“My girlfriend is pregnant!” lamented the upset chap. “I cannot marry her. I am going to murder her instead!” he upheld, as tears rolled down his cheeks. He was sandwiched in a delirium: overtly hurt and shaken to the mallow, whereupon I looked impotently at him – the young man whom a fast-talking dame had shortly outwitted.
My friend was laden with earthy melancholy that comes with lovely disappointments (when “loved ones” disappoint us). Yes, it is very common for girl and boy to liberally declare each other as sweethearts, and before they know it, the relationship sours and one begins baying for the other’s blood, normally because the other has blundered in the relationship.
Thus the guy accosted me for counselling; having learnt that his lady was carrying a pregnancy, apparently transmitted by another bloke. What with the fact that the young man was so religious and faithfully keeping himself for marriage, that his affiliation to his lass had remained purely platonic. While he did so, his girlfriend was going behind her back and, like Eve, serving the forgiven fruit to whichever Adam she encountered, even allowing them to score.
The pregnancy revealed to the young man that while he hoped to become a future proud monopolist of the beautiful babe, reaping all the yields alone, someone else was already tampering with the forbidden fruits. It was upsetting to a visibly upright young man; it brought a drastic turn in his outlook, including contemplating to commit murder against a loved one. But still he desired to be assured that slaying this disgraceful woman was a noble thing to do.
The reason he sought my counsel. I should perhaps say the obvious; I am no counsellor whether by training, practice, or temperament. For all my days at Makerere – where both our beloved Mwalimu (RIP) and Mkapa studied – I stumbled upon counselling as a brief, marginally topic. Being such a wrong counsellor let me make public the gist of my conversation with the victim of feminine jumbles –whose name is my hush-hush though.
It is believed that when a woman gets pregnant, while the man responsible for the pregnancy does not seem ready to shoulder the burden, the lady will quickly think of alternatives, to ensure that her unborn child gets a decent upbringing. Money too has been cited as central in shattering imminent marriages. A financially wretched man may balloon a woman, but if an apparently wealthy man is readily available, the temptation for a woman to ditch the economic wretch is quite unlimited.
Likewise, it is common that a man who infuses his girlfriend with a pregnancy outside marriage would largely blame the lady or discard her altogether. Someone has nevertheless argued that it is good luck to discover that a girl to whom one is affianced is pregnant as evidence that she is fertile after all. Moreover, the supply of virgins in the women market is declining terrifically, and since boys must marry anyway, they have no business grumbling over used-up girls.
And such was my advice to the bloke who sought my opinion. I pleaded guilty to a crime I would gladly commit if I were a young man, looking for a marriage partner. To discover that the woman I have my eyes on is pregnant with another man’s child would stimulate my endeavour and desire to marry her – it would be an opportunity to disarm such a man.
It is inspiring to know that someone had walked off so deep with the lady but looking back, she caught a glimpse of me and twirled to hug me. Sometimes, a man has snatched another’s official wife to live happily with her thereafter. Go ahead and marry your pregnant fiancé, I urged the chap. Let all bachelors hear this!
By Venansio Ahabwe
Source: Peering Eye, Sunday Citizen