The Woman of the House

At the ripe old age of almost thirty I finally erected a simba at home.

Culturally around here boys are expected to erect their own little structures in their parents' compound well in advance of moving out to occupy their own compounds. The young man (for the boy will grow) operates therein until he marries, after which he is encouraged to establish a house on his own compound preferably somewhere nearby.

Enough background.

By Easter the structure was complete and habitable. It came two decades late - an extra twenty years of me occupying a bedroom in the main house. My bad.

I travelled to the village by night to inaugurate the long overdue structure.            .

Mother meanwhile conjured up a feast and assembled a team from church to pray and offer advice. Such fanfare is not standard procedure for such things, but I was not about to complain. Mother, an excellent host, does not let such events pass quietly in hunger.

While the women cooked, the invited sages sat in a circle in the newly built structure and the rounds of advice came hard and fast.

"This is just a house," said one, "It is still lacking an important element before it can be considered a home. Somebody must come and join you in here permanently."

"Find a woman who is beautiful, hard working and GOD fearing. Don't rush. Take your time, look around."

"This house is not yours really. When she comes she will be called the woman of the house, you will just be sleeping here!"

Grandma's words were for my ears only.

Things continued in this tenor. I listened attentively and avoided mentioning certain misgivings I have lately developed about the prospect of marriage today generally, and my suitability for it in particular.

Eventually everybody had said their bit and we ended like we began - with a word of prayer.

And then a feast was laid out for us.

*********

A cricket kept me awake the whole of the second night with its morbidly monotonous love song. I searched for it everywhere but couldn't find it.

*******

In first place in the race to be crowned Woman of the House, and leading by some distance, is Brown Eyes. Barring her withdrawal from the race, or disqualification on some technicality, all indications are that she is poised for victory. But long is the marathon, and in its early stages yet. Stamina is her test.