There is this  picture of a young lady with all her belongings on her head going to get married.  It reminds me of a scenario I was in 9 years ago. It’s nostalgic or is it a disturbia!

My childhood friend Akinyi is carrying a huge Nigerian bag, she jumps over a pool of water one after another, the pans and plates in there clatter, my boss had gifted me beautiful pans, there are blankets in there and baby clothes too. We’re crossing the last bridge into the fresh air of Buruburu. The familiar odor of Kiambiu we leave behind, then I remember, I didn’t carry my phone with me, my dear friend tells me to wait as she ran back for it. She helps me put down my heavy suitcase and leaves me resting by the road side. Those days Buruburu was two bridges away from the hood – Kiambiu, quite a distance.

‘Adhi Katedo’, yes am going to cook as we say from where I come from. Am going to get married. My friend didn’t question my ‘why’ but I was on my way already, what’s the point? But this friend wasn’t the type to question me, she could only be present. Maybe I should let you in on this friend of mine.

I remember when I was 3 months pregnant I got so sick that I couldn’t walk and I spent all the money in the hospital. Till the 8th month of that pregnancy I was on sanitary towels and there was no happy month. I had stayed without food for two days, she was in upcountry then, I asked her to send me something or else I’ll die of hunger, she did send me Ksh. 150 and out I matched to buy whatever could suffice.

In the same season, I asked her to come stay with me, my ‘situeshen’ was ugly. Those days I would sleep with a heavy knife next to me, consumed in anger and bitterness but she was still present, even if I kept brandishing it with empty threats like “I will kill someone!” She quietly watched and took care of me.

The days I was admitted with a threatening miscarriage, she came all the way since we had all moved from that house, and she took me into their house after I got discharged, It was official I couldn’t stay on my own. And here we’re, she is taking me to Katedo.

She didn’t even question my why when I called her 3 days after delivery to come and help me out. I had a handsome boy lying next to me, but I was extremely sick, I had blood clots the size of sweet potatoes from Kabuoch. They say viazi from that area are as big as a child’s head. She took me to the hospital; my manz was busy with work. Those guys had accidentally left a cotton wool inside and it caused all the mess. This gal cleaned me up; she came all the way to clean the soiled labor room apparel that my mister dared not touch, it is an abomination according to his ancestors.

6 months later when she came to visit she didn’t ask my why for getting married but she just cried and called my mother.

11 months later, I called her again. I needed her to be present. Come she did, stayed in the labor room with me, followed up with the child’s affairs, she was scared they would swap the baby; she gave those nurses a tough time. She was in the hospital worried about the baby and myself too, I had stayed on the delivery bed from 1:40 pm to 4:30pm, episiotomy in progress. After the KMTC students did their thing the doc came and ripped off the whole thing and they started afresh as they studied their specimen and made jokes about it. I was not on anesthesia, I could no longer cry I was numb to the pain. That was my 3rd day in that hospital I was already on my 43rd week, the previous day they couldn’t detect fetal heart rate and they put me on some machine for forever hours.

With my kind of reasons for getting married for a presence of a father, you’d imagine the escalation of anger and bitterness as years passed by without ticking my box.

Even then she didn’t question my why. This is the special Akinyi.

Fast forward, she brought my phone and we proceeded to Katedo.

There are those friends we have that won’t say it until you say it. She has never judged me, but I do cry a lot whenever I need someone who can seek me out even when am covered in filth. During such moments I do miss her dearly. Back then when my view of a great life was in concoctions of a father first then a present father, I got married.

I so yearned for protection and stable family or so I would say for families that had a father in them that I couldn’t grasp God’s ordained reason for marriage. My reasoning was distorted and limited.

I met my manz when I was 20 yrs of age, I was happy, he brought such calmness in my noisy world, and he was all manners of gentleness. My name would coil out of his mouth with such softness and ease that would only speak to my heart. He never did refer to me as those sweet nothings, it was always; “Emily”. Though in his contact list he saved my name as “blacksugar”, so sweet, right? Whenever we would cross the road he would hold my hand.

And what do fathers do? They hold our hands and keep us off danger. And our Main daddy, heavenly father says, “I will uphold you with my righteous right hand” Isn’t it sweet and assuring.

I also remember the same year my baba passed on, we were going to kaduka- to the shopping centre, We walked in town as he held my hand and bragged about me to his friends. “See my daughter, riek (intelligent) sawa sawa….” and I giggled sweetly. I was wearing a black skirt that morning; even on his death I wore a black skirt.

So I got married so that I would raise children with a present father. And I wanted someone to hold my hand like a father does and make me their own. I can’t tell if it happened.

Distorted mission dies when the producer runs out of supplies.

You can imagine whatever happens when a helper would sit on a baby seat to be fathered. And African fathers have long been out there working on providence, presence not withstanding. African mothers never did care about disconnectedness (am just thinking so, I have talked to the old folks, it’s never there in their conversations) or a cover of a husband, they had acquired their names anyway, there was food and children were happy and their father knew their names. Though in this era I have seen quite admirable husbands / fathers who are available in every way. It’s such a beautiful thing. And in this same era, the history has still recurred.

So why are you getting married apart from “We love each other”?

The societal biological time ticked?

You’re in a situeshen and he can unsitueshen it?

You have a child /Children who needs to be fathered?

Your age mates  are all taken?

Is it for financial boost?

Only him/her can heal your pain?

Is he like a daddy to you?

Is she like a mama to you?

What doest thy heart yearn for as you open the gates of marriage? Is it God ordained or you’re dragging Him into it?

Are you using him/her to fix your soul’s yearning?

Are you getting married to right the wrongs in your family?

Is it to have all the sex you crave?

Why are you getting married?

Be informed that if you affirm to any of the above reasons, you’re conforming to the patterns of this world.

In a season that I desired that God fixes my situeshen so desperately, He instead confirmed to me that He is first interested in restoring my heart then my circumstances.

We work so hard to fix our lives yet we belong to a master Potter who however how broken and unfixable we may seem, He does it skillfully piece by piece.

In the furnace of brokenness, desperation and pain He will refine us glowing and radiant with His glory

If yours and his reasons do not marry, please marry not, postpone it, let the Lord search you and lead you to his ways everlasting.

“Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect.” Romans 12:2

– Emily Omondi

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