Hi. I know you don’t know me but I’m coming to you as a woman… is how I should start this letter but I choose not to. I’m a little skeptical about mailing this to you but lately my intuition hasn’t been accurate so I’ll ignore it and mail you anyway. I hate to be the woman who confronts another about a man but what choice do I have? Call me Lulu, at least that’s what he used to call me. ‘He’ being your husband who only months ago was known to me as my man.
Mheshimiwa and I met two years ago. He was everything a woman wants in a man. With everything going right for him, I was smitten and his Jo Malone cologne did not help my case either. He did not have a ring on his finger, not that that is anything to go by these days, but at least it served as consolation. I had hit the jackpot. I have good meat on my bones and nice clothes on the good meat, so keeping him would not be hard. But now I wish I hadn’t left Paul (my ex) for this guy.
I was blind for this man. He was stable, he was chivalrous and he made me weak in the knees. We got serious or rather, I got serious, not too long after. Being the ever cooperative partner, I did everything a girl does to please her man. He kept me pampered and so I kept him happy.
He is a busy man so I’d understand when he took frequent business trips. “Business trips” that I’ve now come to discover he’d take to come see you and your 3 year old daughter. (For this, I don’t know whether I should be ashamed of myself or be angry at him). I confronted him about you sometime early in the relationship when a friend of his mentioned your name in a conversation but he brushed it off saying you were just the baby mama. I must have believed him because I ignored the little signs and did not delve deeper.
Days went by. We made memories and then came the most unexpected realisation; we’d made a baby. It’ll be a boy. He kicks every so often. He’ll be here in a month. I can’t wait to meet this little human. Sigh!
Now, before I go on let me clear things by saying I’m not writing to you as the enemy neither do I need you to feel sorry for me; it is simply because I think you deserve the truth.
Moving on, I found out about you six months ago when I came across a different phone in his suitcase. He had just arrived home from a two-weeks trip in Nairobi-where you live-in readiness for the next general elections campaigns. I’m a woman and I did what you too would have done. I went through the phone sure I’d find nothing because I knew this man loved me; I knew I was the only one. He’d tag me along most of his business events and he always introduced me to his friends as his “the one” anyway. You can only imagine the shock when I saw photos of you two on vacation during your birthday weekend. You can only imagine how hard my heart broke when I saw photos of a little girl who had his nose, only smaller and his smile, only truer.
When I confronted him, he did not deny it. In fact, he said we were only a fling at first and he hadn’t seen us having anything serious. The audacity of that man! ?. I was confused and angry and I begged him to leave you at first (how silly) even breaking the news of my pregnancy to him for the first time. But all he could say was why did I have to be so nosy; that I’d only brought up an unnecessary fight. Then I asked him the question no woman should ever have to ask any man, “What are we?” and just like that I had lost my dignity. He left without a word and hasn’t been back since.
It’s been months and I’m still bitter. I know this feeling won’t go away anytime soon but I need closure. I don’t want to believe that I was only playing second fiddle but I need to get over this man who has a wife of four years, a daughter and a dog they named Toty, an acronym for the first letters of their names. Yes, I’ve done my research.
So when you get this, remember: I’m not the enemy. So don’t call me the other woman; don’t even call me Lulu as you vent to your best friend. When you get this, don’t think of me as the young woman who was after a married man for I am a victim of the games these people play. I can only imagine your pain as you read this if you had not the slightest idea of my existence. I can only imagine it because I’ve been up many nights nursing the same wounds. Thinking of ways to bring a child who’s a result of deceit into this cruel world. So when you find the attached photos of him and I on vacation during my birthday weekend, don’t call me the other woman. Don’t even call me Lulu. I’m not the enemy.