I wash the dishes in the sink in silence with earphones in my ears, and angrily lather the soap on the dirty dishes. There is no song in my ear he knows that, this is just a mechanism to shut him off from my world. The apartment is quiet, the television is not on, the music system is also silent, apart from the roaring sound the refrigerator makes and the water ragingly splashing from the tap at the sink where I am currently washing. The fridge and the tap seemingly have my back, raging with me. He gives me those side glances from where his sitting at the sofa, hoping that I will say something, maybe rant out why am being moody, but why would I do that yet we both know what has seemingly made me angry.
His mum called today, the fourth time this week. It is fine for her to call but what she talks to him about is the problem. Those four times, she has been talking about this lady that she found for him, the one she wants him to pursue, the one she wants him to marry. Her name Wanjiku. She comes from that wealthy family in Runda estate, the Kamaus. I have always thought that those were very common names for such a well off, flourishing family. They should have had names like the Collymores or the Gates. She says that Wanjiku likes him a lot, and since both their families have been friends for long, they would love to seal this ‘friendship’, with Wanjiku and my man marrying each other. She thinks the two would make the perfect couple and give birth to many beautiful Gikuyu babies. It would keep the legacy going of their family only marrying people from the same tribe.
His hands wrap gently around my waist. He hugs me from the back. ‘Sweetie, I apologise on mum’s behalf. I am so sorry my baby,’ he says this as he helps me put the plate am washing back in the sink. He takes the soap and returns it to the soap dish and calmly rinses my hands on the running water, gently wipes them on a dry towel, closes the tap, holds my hand and guides me to the sofa. He sits first, pulls me to sit on his lap and I sit looking at him. ‘Talk to me, please,’ he says as he caresses my face. I half smile, shyly, loving the attention that am now getting.
‘I don’t just understand you,’ I start, as he sits, attentively. ‘I mean, why do you people live like this. Babe, we are in the 21st century, you are supposed to choose who to pursue, who to love and who to marry. Your mother is seriously irritating me with this phone calls. Why can’t you just tell her that you got some Luo girl that you love and that you are going to marry? Is it just that hard?’ I ask and I sense some discomfort with the way am running it on him. I hug him.
‘See baby, I might not look like the perfect wife material that the society depicts. Yes, I have tattoos, yes my dressing might sometimes be dramatic, yes, my nails are always manicured and yes, I am Luo and I was brought up by my father, but I can still be the perfect woman for you,’ I say as I get up from his lap. We both notice that I am about to give him one hell of a lecture.
‘You see, I wash your dishes, I clean your house. I know some traditional vegetables that I can throw in your diet once in a while. I can learn how to cook mukimo or the famous kahurura for you. I am learning your language too, I know gima is ugali and it goes well with deep fried pork in your culture, and most of all I adore and love you. But this Wanjiku girl. She has to be gone and the only way is by calling your mother and telling her that I exist,’ I finish as I gaily hand him his phone. He has to make that call. I am seriously not about to give up the love of my life to some tradition and weird agreements between families. I mean, we are supposed to have our beach wedding in a few months, with a few friends over and we would tie the knot while the sea sits calmly and the sand tickles our bare feet, and the wind will blow on my loose short, white dress as I happily say ‘I do’.
He takes the phone and dials his mother’s number. It rings for a few moments before she picks it up. ‘Hi Mum, we need to talk…’ His voice fades in the living room and into the balcony. I sigh hard and cross my fingers as I watch him speak to his mother. I really hope she understands because nigwedete mno, I love you so much…