Gone are the days when you could never marry outside your tribe, leave alone race. Today, there are no rules dictating your choice of marriage partner. This week’s subject is written in jest and is a compilation of discussions picked from a jolly group of family and friends during a recent gathering.
As we sat around the bonfire, food, drinks, and laughter flowing, one of our in-laws quipped, “This family can run a government. Every tribe in Kenya is represented here.” And it was true. The young couples among us were surprised to hear how unsettling it was merely 30 or so years ago to marry away from one’s tribe.
This conversation inevitably morphed into which tribe makes the best spouses. While most of the tales were exaggerated prejudices we hold about other tribes, the banter was not merely hot air as some of us in interethnic marriages confirmed.
“I will make sure that my daughters only marry among the Meru or Luo. The men are gentle and not shy to demonstrate love to their wives,” an in-law said.
Some protests and agreements arose from the wives whose husbands hailed from other communities. I agreed with that in-law.
“We Meru are expressive. What you see is what you get. We don’t mince words,” I said.
“You Meru keep the knives away…I disagree,” another in-law, married to one of our beautiful soft-spoken cousins, joked. She met his eyes in mock anger.
“I would rather my daughters did not choose husbands from my community. Men from Central Kenya have never heard of the word romance.” The protests were loud.
“Which Nyeri woman likes flowers? Wouldn’t a wife rather have food on the table than flowers?” an in-law from Central Kenya quipped.
“No!” the women chorused.
“Romance is not about flowers and chocolates. Even holding hands is romance,” I lectured.
This was followed by more protests.
“Are we going to hold hands or work to pay school fees?” Hubby chipped in, he of the Melania Trump swat. Like Melania, Hubby would rather pocket than hold his wife’s hand in public. I got over the shock early on, even before we got married, and decided that my hands were not too heavy for me.
“You can do both, hold hands and work for school fees,” someone else chipped in and continued, “Our in-law from Samburu is one of the most responsible husbands I know.”
She explained how the son of Maa, married to her sister, always honoured their parents, many years since the marriage took place.
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“Bundle the Kisii men with the Gikuyu ones,” a relative married to a Kisii added.
Her husband put up a hand in protest as she continued, “Kisii men are responsible, but romance is a foreign and very, very, very uncomfortable idea to them.” “But I bought you that jacket…” her husband protested, to which she reminded him that she had specifically ordered it online, therefore his job was only to deliver it to her. Someone said, “Talking of chackets – the famously popular brown leather ones favoured by our brothers from the Rift Valley, how do the Kalenjin men fair?
“We need a whole book on that one,” our friend from the land of mursik quipped, before someone else added, “his love for tractors will feature in the first chapter,” which triggered more laughter.
I made a quick online search, which brought up, ‘Kalenjin husbands do not hug their wives but make great dads.’ What’s the relationship between these two aspects? BY DAILY NATION