THE MISTRESS

Am in love with another woman
Mistress they call her
I prefer to call her Kusoma
she calls herself success
for years on end I longed to see her
with endless letters did I beseech her
But she eluded me for years
she knew my adolescent passions would pass

I was not ready
then she appeared
Beautiful and mesmerizing
Awesome unfathomable
I was like any hot blooded man struck
And what a passionate romance we began
But Kusoma extremely jealous
And boy is she out rightly possessive-

She sends her girlfriends to spy on me
Ensuring that I love no other
So deadlines are set for me to show my unwavering allegiance
But a man has got to be a man
My other passions should be met
Come sit-coms, football and photography
Sneak in face book and yahoo messenger
Not forgetting that the official wife’s kisanja

But Kusoma is resilient she will hear none of it
She is going to rant when she finds me writing this
‘’caress my pages constantly’’-she demands,
I would like to see you breathe over my old and tattered manuscripts
She wants me to look her deep into her eyes, into her long black well-plaited hair- endless lines of text and prose
Sometimes interesting, sometimes smelling like that hot ink-jet printer in my research room
It doesn’t matter that I will doze off in my chair
She knows I will be with her after all
She continues to set deadlines upon which I shall paint her beautiful features, and write imaginary words
And my desk is full of love letters written by many of Kusoma’s former lovers – Shakespeare, Durant, Brownlie, Okot p’bitek, the list is endless all in the name of being studious

The official wife is of no help either
From across the seas she seems to be happy that the mujja takes more and more of my time
Yet she and her daughters complain that they miss me
And I don’t know what to say
Even my reading wall is decorated with success cards - from Amooti my mother - of all people, how dare she encourage such infidelity?

Kusoma cares less
It don’t bother her
Maybe her henchmen will mention a word once in a while –in encouragement
It’s either her or her – period!
She has taken me away - far away cold land where rain wakes up to rain and snow smiles for ages on end
Where bitter summers kiss autumn leaves goodbye
And make me rush for yet another cup of caffeine
In this mess I stay with my mistress
I love her - I love her not.
I need her but I wish I could avoid her nagging - there is no running away

Kusoma demands that I write her endless booklets of love letters
Spanning pages upon pages of epistemology, theoretical frameworks and theses
She will allow me very little sleep
Enough to let my eyelids rest
So that I should think – and think some more
Develop my ideas
Talk
Of her alone
She is me and I am her
She is my driving force - I think about her all the time
And all my friends ask about is how we two are going on
The psalmist cautions that men like me lack understanding, but how come the world looks at me with awe and praise?

So here I remain day
A love- hate relationship
I speak about her with passion and praise
But why I suffer though? I wonder-

Then there is the concubine…
But that is another story…

Copyright ©2010 Daniel Ronald Ruhweza