In swift anger, she blurted out, ” what can you do?” All my 3 children turned to look at me. They had seen the dare but they didn’t know how their father, a man who had prided himself as a lion, would react. I didn’t notice when our neighbor, Jimmy stood up. I only saw his back as the door closed behind him. His wife adamantly remained seated in what I guessed would be an irresistible desire to gather all the gossip she needed.
I needed an urgent plan.
But, my wife didn’t have the patience the church pastor had insisted on that morning. She actually came closer to me and shouted, “Owino, what can you do?” Her saliva splashed on my face.
Surely, I had to do something. Quickly.
The last time we argued with this Jezebel, I ended up being locked up in a police cell from Friday till Monday. Even though we had fought on a Tuesday, she tactfully avoided reporting the matter to the police on the same day and did it on a Friday for me to be locked up the entire weekend. She later confessed to her friends that money had been involved in ‘teaching me a ‘lesson’. In the cell, I had sworn to kill a person when I got out, but I didn’t. I was weak. Tamed! Domicile! A potato of a man!
So, when she defied me openly in front of my children…she thought that I could fear based on my previous experience in the police cell. It was actually one of my worst experiences, and so, I was naturally afraid of going back. I had been mentally tormented by men who looked at my behinds thirstily. Their eyes’ focus was nowhere else! You couldn’t blame them, I had eaten a lot of blue band and on that day, I had been arrested in pajamas!
When I remembered this, I decided to brush the entire argument off.
I chose to go out and drain the anger away in litres of liquor.
I was almost leaving until she came closer to me with the same question and those dramatic hand gestures.
That’s when something snapped in my mind.
In an explosive rage, my left hand went for her neck. I missed it by an inch but managed to find her t-shirt. I held it and pushed her closer to me. Then, I took my hand far back and brought it at a fast speed to her face.
The blow landed on her nose and she was knocked out instantly.
Okay, I didn’t do it. That was all on my mind.
Oblivious to the tense situation, I raised my four-year-old daughter and kissed her cheeks. She urgently wanted her banana peeled and no one was concerned. I immediately took the task and did it happily.
I tickled her and she laughed loudly.
Meanwhile, my wife was fuming with more anger. She had anticipated a ‘good fight’. She actually wanted me to beat her up.
I was lucky. For two reasons.
About a week before, one of her friends, Natalie, had called me for some deal in IT. We were both in IT but, I consulted for bigger firms partly in Europe and West Africa. When we met, two days later at Java ABC, we spent the first one hour talking about cars. Then, we drifted to farming and cried about our passion for Melons. Natalie was this sophisticated lady who spent most of her teenage life in either a garage or behind a computer and at both times, with her American dad who at the time lived near The Waterfront-Karen. You should immediately pick two things: she was already very rich and extremely beautiful.
It wasn’t the first time we had sat down to talk. Just the two of us.
And I want to agree with all the foolish and weirdos who are thinking that I entertained some strange suppressed feelings for her even though I had a wife. But, I was responsible enough to maintain a good distance. I had a wife, remember.
You couldn’t blame me for liking her. All answers were in the size of her young and mysteriously soft bottoms.
And when she laughed, she took her sweet time. You had to wait for a few seconds to let her release the joy. And if you knew her well as I did, she would always peck you after a burst of serious and hearty laughter.
I could have talked about her curvy body but, I will leave it out for another day. However, I would like to just let you know that she was symmetrically formed in a fitting size 8 and a delicately soft brown skin tone that tended to blend with most of the clothes that she chose.
Where were we folks?
Ooh, the Java meeting…
Well, she told me to my face that my wife had procured the services of a lawyer and a technician. The technician had intricately positioned secret cameras in the house to record our heated quarrels.
These recordings would be sent to the lawyer during our divorce case which was awaiting “enough recordings”.
What broke my heart more was the revelation that my wife was seeing a rasta guy from Kayole. It was impossible for weaklings like me who dwelt in Kilimani to compare fairly in terms of size with those men from downtown. By now I hope you know which ‘size’ I am referring to! Apparently, she had had about 5 sexual encounters, mostly when I was out of Nairobi. Coming after a Kayole man meant that I would probably never satisfy my wife. She had gone to a different league. It was all over for me.
I had a quick decision to make. To go home and kill my wife and bury her in the garden or hire hitmen to do a clean job. Yet, I wanted her to suffer! I wanted her to feel some pain.
In the six hours that followed. I was totally devastated.
When the Java waiters asked us to leave at 10 pm, I wouldn’t summon enough energy to face the adulteress that called herself my wife. And if I went, I would have cut her into pieces. We left for Natalie’s house. The only consolation I had at the moment was Natalie and her beauty. However, when called upon to react, I was unable to rise to the occasion and begged Natalie to excuse me for the night. I’m sure she understood, right?
It is when Natalie was caressing my chest that the adulteress called obviously pretending to check on me. That was at 01:36AM. I switched off my phone.
For the next two days, I “punished” Natalie severely of course with the aid of the much available Viagra pills. It is that motivation that made her help me to strategize on how to counter the adulteress.
So, when I went back home, I humbly gave the best explanation why I had disappeared. I lied to the liar and succeeded. She bought the fake explanation. I quickly got my title deeds and initiated the transfer of ownership of all my three plots to my mother’s name. I also transferred ownership of my vehicles to my father.
Everything that was under my name and that would be quietly changed, in terms of ownership, that I changed and assigned it either to my dad or my mum.
I secretly did a DNA test for all my children. And clearly, the last born was not mine. Nonetheless, I wrote a will and included her in it.
So, when she picked a fight that Sunday, I wouldn’t respond. I had to first ensure that everything was in order.
Three weeks and a few days later, we had another argument. I pulled her closer to one of her secret cameras. And when I was sure of a proper angle; to capture the events, I slapped her on the face heavily and smiled.