It's been a week now, a very long one. I hadn't even noticed time passing. All I knew is just that there were sunrises and sunsets. I could not point to a specific time in the day when anything had happened. I don't know if I ate lunch at 9am or 4pm. I even cannot remember what my wonderful housemates had cooked for supper. I usually enjoy their food but everything this week had been tasting like rubbery slippers.
To many people, this dilemma seems more than easy to resolve: just elope with the love of your life and live happily ever after, though in uncertainty.
Accelerate the plans.
Cut off communication.
Find a perfect hideout.
Start a new life.
Stand up to your father.
Reject Wangare.
Stand up for your rights.
All plausible but unfortunately for me, far fetched realities.
The truth behind this new arrangement is that political marriages in every sense of the word still do exist. Not the Kalonzo-Raila types but the kind ensuring continuity in family relations.
The funny thing is, my dad is not even a politician. It was all my grandfather's doing.
How?
Well, let me summarise it for you. My grandfather is a politician but all his twelve children or disciples if you like, were all married. He even had twelve dogs in his compound. I don't know if it is mere coincidence but you have to suspect. Since there was this dilemma, the son of the firstborn child had to make this merger happen.
It is usually only natural for the firstborn to take the political reigns of the family but my father did not trust my elder brother. I personally love the guy but if I was the dad too, I wouldn't trust the little crook. At least not with something sensitive as a politically arranged marriage. So at this point, the question, "Why me" was becoming irrelevant as the days flew by. So much for being a goody two shoes. Now I was paying the price for my perceived loyalty.
Reputation, Love, Politics. Seems my life had now blown up into a traditional soap opera.
No comments:
Post a Comment