Your mother is holding your son, admiring him, because the kid took his looks from you and his grandfather, especially. Nobody will ever doubt that he is not a descendant of the great Mw’Gisiora clan. Then out of nowhere, “What are you waiting for?” she asks.
“Mmmmh, waiting for?”
“Do something. We need more grandchildren; this house is so cold,” she says, almost in a conspiratorial tone.
“Mmmh, come on mum, we already have two children, you still want more?”
“Of course, you need to hurry, wasiachane sana. Your daughter is seven, son turns two soon, and you need another one so that they can grow up together…”
“Life is too hard mum, the cost of living is extremely hi…”
“It is true as she is telling you. The only way you are going to hold down your wife is to have another baby. That way, we can know that she will stay for sure…” your father chimes in, unprovoked.
“But who said she is leaving? Our marriage is permanent,” you say, trying to sound defiant.
“Young women nowadays don’t stay in marriage, unless there is something very specific that ties them to the marriage. Your first born is not your daughter, so she has two children by two different men, so don’t be too sure, she can go to the other man.”
“That is insane, that is ridiculous, to even suggest that. Impossible,” you want to tell your dad.
He takes such a dim view of women and your wife, especially. To reduce a woman’s identity to a point of childbearing is a bit outdated.
Like he is reading your mind, “I know you think all this is foolishness, but we have lived in this world long enough to know how things can go,” he says.
There is obviously no objectivity in their assessment and certainly the fact that Caroline comes from “Mountain” as they say, they have their reservations. But you’re damn sure Caroline is not that type of girl.
“It is good enough that at least you have a son…”
Oooh, God! You tune out of the conversation. You have heard enough. And it is time to say goodbye and leave the village. But your mother is not yet done.
“I will tell Caroline to think about it. She needs to get done with child-bearing and focus on her career,” she says.
You hope she doesn’t do it. Because Carol will be painfully honest with her and she will hate her for it.
Carol joins you to say your goodbyes for your weekend village visit. She notices that there is such a palpable silence, but she checks her curiosity to ask you later what it was all about.
And as you swerve out of the family gate, sure as hell, Carol asks, “What was the tension all about?”
“Well, if you want to know the truth, they want another baby from us?”
“Who?” She asks sounding incredulous.
“Both mum and dad.”
“Mum will call you to tell you.”
“Let her not call me with such nonsense.”
You want to object to her insulting your mother, but you think twice. She is partly right. Partly.
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