Mr Survivor: In praise of my Queen

Although my Queen made it her pastime to send me into exile to marital Siberia at the slightest provocation,  I hold no hard feelings against her. I hereby pledge my unwavering loyalty to her as my one and only wife, the beauty Queen of Aberdare countryside and mother of my, nay, our boys.

You see, Queen has very many likable, lovable, observable and non-observable characteristics that helplessly, hopelessly and irredeemably hypnotise me , making me forget the agony of ‘siberialisation’. Of course I am aware that many men talk behind my back, saying that I have been sat on like a stool, but I ignore them. It is my sole business how I chose to live with my wife.

She doesn't believe me

A disclaimer, although I highly appreciate Queen’s positive traits from the bottom of my heart of hearts, and even go to an extent of making it public for all who care to listen through romantic praise, she does not believe me.

Her mistrust is borne out of the suspicion that my loyalty pledge to her is a product of my close interaction with the beverages of the Happy Valley variety. And going by her highly fanatically religious inclinations, I have not seen the need to argue with her. This would only lead to an extension of my exile to marital Siberia.

I sing my ‘Queen’s anthem’ for her to the consternation of the enemies of marital bliss who expect us to be items of breaking news in marital ‘situationship’ on the Happy Valley rumour mills.

As our people aptly say, an elephant is never burdened by its own trunk and it is only the wearer of the shoe who knows where it pinches.

Now, Queen has these irresistible womanly and wifely wiles that glue me to her like moth to a lamp, in times of problems and times of happiness. She is a rare and precious gift from the gods of love who oozes and radiates infectious laughter even when she is angry.

Her lovely charms are like a magnetic spark that holds me close to her even when she is lecturing me about my ‘unhusbandly’and ‘unfatherly’ ways instead of taking shelter from her one-liner verbal missiles. Most importantly, she welcomes me at the Palace at  unholy hours even when she knows very well that I have come from Happy Valley, the place she loves to hate. She calls it evil valley. 

Secondly, Queen is a super mother to our boys. She is in total charge of the kitchen budget and ensures that the future leaders eat well. As is obviously expected, due to her busy schedule in various social, political and economic engagements, the cooking part of it is undertaken by Makena, our C.P.A. (comptroller of palace affairs).

Jack of all trades

My only contribution in the kitchen is the thrice a week ration of meat, two times of which are matumbo, and her once a week ration of Del Monte mango juice.

Of course I have an issue with the menu at the Palace because the future leaders are subjected to womanly recipes like rice and ndengu. I have been wondering what sort of men they will grow up to be physically when they feed on rice, taking into consideration that their wives will most likely than not turn out to be rice fanatics.

Thirdly, Queen is a jack of all trades although she is a master of none. She is an entrepreneurial genius, if one considers her various financial trials and errors without necessarily putting into consideration their returns. Perhaps she would be doing so well moneywise if it were not for her miserable accounting credentials.

From the above ventures come the many high sounding titles she has earned in Happy Valley and beyond above the ordinary mama so and so which makes me very proud of her. They are derived from each line of trade she has ventured into. These monikers are mood boosters to me because it tells everyone that my eyes, mind and heart did not cheat me when they told me that Queen was a sure bet.

How many men in Happy Valley have wives with such mood boosting names such as queen, Chairlady, Mkulima, Super Secretary, Daktari , Mama County, among many others. She makes me proud.

That is my Queen for you and me. And that is the reason I end up at the Palace every day despite the very strong temptation to extend my stay at Happy Valley beyond the normally and morally allowed hours. When I have closed over to the Canaan of milk and honey, why would I or any other man in his right flame of mind bother with the hunger and thirst of Egypt? Queen’s River Jordan is sufficient for me. Amen!