The Sponsor

Mrs Ajabu

Mama Wairimu was born at a certain point in time. A certain point when the man was the head of the family and his word was the law. A time when society believed that being a good woman meant submitting to your husband both body and soul even when your heart was aching from his sins.

She had been brought up at a time when women held together the family even when it was sipping between their fingers like sand. Leaving your husband was never an option it was frowned at and spat on.

She remembered those days when they were young living in a shack made of timber and mabati in Kangemi. Those days when Mzee Ajabu would come home drunk as a sponge and vomit all over the floor before pissing and shitting his pants and she would be the one cleaning after him in silence, feeling as if he had gotten married, not to a man but a baby.

She could not remember the honeymoon stage because it was not there. She had long made peace with the fact that his husband got married to him because she was a low hanging fruit and at the time he did not have the status to marry the type of woman he wanted. She did not realize that by looking down on herself she killed her confidence and self esteem and increased the poison that was brewing inside her.

She now sat on the edge of their king-size bed sipping sparkling wine from a flute as Mzee Ajabu snored like a wild boar.

Of course sticking to the marriage had its benefits. They had built a solid family. They had two beautiful daughters and a son but she feared the people they would grow up to be because of the mother she had been to them.

She switched her buttocks from left to right on the bed to get comfortable and wondered what they thought of her as a mother.

She was not in the best of terms with any of them, Wairimu especially. She had beaten her up not more than ones because of her loud mouth. A hint of a smile touched her face when she thought of Fred. He was the one who would save her.

She sipped her wine and looked at her husband again. He was sleeping so that his big belly faced the ceiling, maybe like a balloon she could deflate it with a needle. Every bone in her body resented him with a fierce revulsion. She had an urge to take a pillow and squeeze it on his ugly face till life left his body. She thought of leaving him, but there was no leaving this marriage, to go where? She would hit him where it hurt most. His wealth, his status.