The changing face of polygamy

Ted Malanda

In my grandfather's time, a man with one wife was the subject of derision and scorn. Either he was too poor to marry many wives or he was plain 'sat on'.

Such losers were required to sit next to the door at the drinking den, lest news of the death of their only wife arrived and the man, in panicky haste, knocked over the drinking pot.

The reasoning was that a polygamist would instead sip some more and, calmly, ask, "Which wife?"

In my father’s day, things got a bit tricky. Only the bravest of them dared to marry two wives and still, the place was like Northern and Southern Sudan with an invisible Berlin Wall separating the two combatants.

Still, that was the era of lodgings and it wasn’t uncommon for men of my father’s generation to spend a night, even two, out. The really brave ones kept mistresses and would disappear from home for days on end.

The only recourse for long-suffering wives was to join the Mother’s Union. "Roam around all you like. When you are tired, you will come back to me," they said with resignation.

Strange woman

But these days, polygamy is a tall order. Merely by scrolling through your phone, madam will be aware that you are up to no good the moment you give a ‘strange woman’ a lift. By the time you arrange what you imagine is a secret wedding, she will be so much in the know that she will arrive with a riot squad at the church’s doors baying for your blood.

Besides, you can’t pull those antics of sleeping away from home like our fathers used to. She will call you 70 times in one night, courtesy of mobile phones. Don’t even be shocked if she hauls you to the children’s court or bursts into your love nest with journalists in tow for good measure.

Result? Modern man is a ‘perfect husband’ who is always home on time and never sleeps out.

He is just a daytime polygamist with a second family whose children have never seen him at night or in the morning unless the man is on a non-existent office trip to Moyale.