The tears of a woman

So she learns that the easiest way to get her way is to let her tears fall. She knows its unfair but her mama didn’t teach her the demerits of emotional blackmail.

Her man is a hardworking dude. He’s not too rich and he knows the world knows it. The world’s opinion matters to him big time. Because he comes from a complicated background, you see. His parents were his heroes and as he grew up, he didn’t realize that they were not as hardworking as the world wants people to be.

When he grew up, he realized that he could not look up to his folks anymore because they were underachievers who were content to beg relatives for even the basics in life. He discovered his parents had never really rented a house yet they had also never built a house of their own.

He was a driven man. He resolved early on in life never to make a woman cry. He had seen too many tears as his mama cried out against the cruel world fate had handed her. She told him from a very tender age that the one solely responsible for her troubles was his daddy.

He made a vow never to be like his daddy.

Even with his little education, he knew he had to triumph over his adversity. And he knew he had a very short time. He was running out of time because his parents were old. There was something within him that made him want to prove something to his folks. Maybe he just wanted to teach them the facts of life.

That’s the kind of man this woman married.  A man with issues. A man who wanted to conquer the world before he was 33. Alexander the Great was a stupid heathen but he managed this feat. Surely, with his kind of conviction, he was in a better position to do much more.

She caught on early enough. She discovered that his weakness was seeing the tears of a woman. All the other girls came and went and they just couldn’t find a space in his armor. Because they did not know how to exploit the tears on him.

She won. She made him marry him, buy her the Lexus in the front yard, build her the fine mansion in Muyenga and carry her pink bag on Saturdays as she had her nails done in the salon in downtown Kampala. All through her tears.

  

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About Steven

It wasn't me; arrest the voices. It was the voices in my head. Sike! I am Ugandan first. I care for development in my country. I am a curious observer second and I care to know what you think.
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