Then marriage begins

You can always smell a newlywed couple even in supermarkets. Not by their honeymoon glow, not even by their gleaming wedding bands which they brandish like a trophy but by the compromises they make to impress, to show the other that this is more for better than for worse.

The gent in front of me for example, just bought an entire sack of sunlight detergent, and he did it all with a smile, even though he can’t tell you what it is for.

He removed his card and punched it in probably without calculating the amount of beer and nyama choma he could have bought at Kikopey with that cash. And just when he was putting it back, his brand new wife came hobbling with two packets of chicken.

She was short and shapely, with yellow braids and even yellower skin. The type you don’t say no to unless you’re blindfolded. She came to the counter panting. Like she had won a marathon or was back from saving the world from inflation. “We forgot these, weh!” she sighed while putting the chicken on the counter and placing both of her hands on her wide hips to catch a breath.

“Do we really need those?” the gent groaned, anger choking his throat, probably thinking, ‘Why in God's name would we buy chicken when we have matumbo in the fridge?’ But then he looked at his brand new wife and that smile broke across his face again and he punched his card once more.

A time will come when the newness fades. When he punches that card and there is nothing in it. When for worse becomes more than for better, then marriage will begin.

As told By Kisauti