Response from Wife to the Smallhouse

 

Image - http://thyblackman.com

This is a response to THIS letter.

It's interesting to receive a letter from you. Shame! Something must be bothering you since you thought that there is a need for you to justify and explain your actions to me, but let me say the following:

Firstly, if you knew your part, you would know better than to send a letter to me. Honestly, I don't have time for your stupid high school games. We (married women) are not interested in whatever your logic is for opening your legs to our husbands for some money. You are nothing but a glorified whore! Accept the fact that you are simply a booty girl. In fact your analysis of the whole situation is a bit disturbing. I will suggest that you consult a shrink as soon as possible.

Secondly, if you think that opening your legs to the ‘highest donor’ makes you 'hot' or 'young, you are certainly delusional”.
Come on now... all men know where the 'easy-to-get' cookies are. It’s cheaper and easy to get at your place with less stress, and that's why our married men are with you. Have you asked yourself, why no man has ever thought to marry you? It's not because you are more of a woman or that he thinks you're the best thing to come into his life. It's because you're easy, but if you doubt that, ask his friends what he says about you when you're not around.
You need to understand that a real woman does not determine her worth by the amount of cash or gifts a man would give to her.
Smallhouse, if you really want him, you can keep him for good. He is my left-over, and I am more than you in many ways. I will go on and thrive even higher in my daily endeavours. In case you did not know, I work for all that I have acquired. I don't need a man to pay my bills. I earn my own income.

My only concern is that if he must cheat, it should be with someone much better and not with someone like you ... a slut with no class. For future correspondence, do not ever make the mistake of comparing yourself to me. It’s an insult.

Thirdly, I thought you should know that I am not keeping this man here or crying and begging him to stay.
He stays out of his own accord. It's not for the sakes of the kids or because he is scared that I will get hurt or whatever the stupid reasons he told you in order for him to ‘eat your cookies’.
Every woman knows that you can't force a man to stay if he doesn't want to (But I guess your mother never taught you that) simply put: If he wanted to be with you, he would be there - not here with me. It is beneath me to get into a fight over a man. After all he is already mine. For your information, I am the woman who taught him how to do what he does to you in the closet. I taught him how to be a man and a father. I made him a proud man, and no matter the amount of cookies you gave to him, that fact will not change.

You can pretend that you are not emotionally attached to my man. Tell me that it doesn't hurt you when he comes home to me - that you don't really want your own ring, wedding, family and children blab bla... All smallhouses know the truth, they always want more than the cookies they willingly provides.

In conclusion, you will always remain a second best, and eat crumbs that falls from my table.

Mrs......

I HAVE LOST ALL MY DOGS (The Tax Collectors)

True Story by Becko Blues 

 It was in 1998 when I and my best ‘dog’ (friend) Mike sort of waltzed into the small town of Victoria falls amid much pomp and fanfare. Yes, in our teenage lingo we referred to each other as ‘Dog’.  We were coming from the big city of Bulawayo, having recently finished our high school education. As often is the case, when the big city boys arrive in a small town they immediately stand out, (or they would like to believe so) meaning they are different and easily noticeable from the local ones, notwithstanding the fact that me and Mike were already the sort of boys that stood out even in the big city where we came from. I must add that this was our first instance being out on our own – away from the parents’ ‘suffocating’ control. So, we were quite enjoying our new found ‘freedom’.

I now believe that it is really true when they say opposites attract, because, although me and Mike were best friends, we were nothing alike. Mike was the attention hog, the type of dude who never would pass a moment or wait for the moment to be seen or heard, and at times would go to embarrassing lengths to get that attention. On the other hand, I was and still am the shy type, I always and still do my utmost best to stay out of the spotlight. I don’t do well under the spotlight and at any given moment, I try to avoid it. But somehow, life has always dealt me a lousy hand as I have more than often found myself being the unwilling subject of attention, mostly due to association.

 I remember when Mike came to my place one evening with his latest ‘girlfriend’, whom he introduced as Sharon, and Sharon’s female friend Senziwe. I can say they were about 15 or 16 years old, judging by their looks.  It was 8:30pm and I was watching TV alone, having escorted my girlfriend home, Patricia was her name. Mike winked at me and I already knew what that wink meant. It was a code meaning that this Sharon was not his regular girlfriend, was just a ‘Taxpayer’ as we called them, and was just here at my place to ‘pay the tax’.

The Tax Collectors.

You see, Mike was a flamboyant womanizer and although he was employed, he had no fixed abode. He dated wealthy older women and stayed with them at their places until he moved in with the next poor thing in a skirt that had the misfortune of capturing his attention. He had such a sweet tongue that when he finished talking to his ‘victims’ they would firmly believe that they were most fortunate to have him in their ‘miserable’ dwellings.

 And then there was the Tax Collection. This was the act of sleeping with as many girls as one can every day.  Often, Mike would arrive at my place with two girls. One, his latest conquest, and the other one, - a friend of the conquest who more often than not believed that she was just escorting a friend to their boyfriend’s place for a couple of drinks.

This Tax Collection was common occurrence, something Mike made popular in that small town, and indulged in quite often. And by now I was already used to playing host to this sordid escapade. We, in the midst of that madness, styled ourselves the “Tax-Collectors” and, unbeknown to them, the girls we slept with were styled the “Tax-Payers”. Then other boys joined in too. Steven, Jimmy, Isaac, Ronald, Sipho, Danile, Qhubekani and many others. And I cannot claim that I didn’t like it too, because each time Mike or the other boys brought in a new Taxpayer, (It always took place at my place) they made sure there was always a friend of the taxpayer who tagged along. And whilst I would not go out of my way to find another girl and thereby cheat on Patricia, I really, really could not say no when Mike did his wink, the one that meant ‘hey buddie, look! I got takeaway and I brought one for you too!

 So, usually Mike would get the ball rolling, ‘collecting tax’ on the couch while I and the taxpayer’s friend watched. And, without fail, this always culminated in me getting aroused and the tax payer’s friend too. Therefore, it always followed that without a single word uttered, me and the taxpayer’s friend found ourselves doing our own tax transaction on my bed – all night long.

 Needless to say, it was mostly unprotected sex and today I stand here, having survived not by virtue of being clever than others but through the grace of the Lord Almighty. Now I am writing this story with a heavy heart because I lost my ‘dog’ Mike and others as well. They all succumbed to the deadly HIV/AIDS and not a day passes by without me thinking about how I could have stopped the whole madness before it got out of hand. You may want to judge me or criticize me in the manner in which I conducted myself during my teenage years, but please understand that I am only publishing this as I deeply feel that my trials and tribulations, and misdemeanours to a large extent, may be of help to those who are currently going through the teenage phase of their lives, so that they may be warned, and hence know about the pitfalls of what they may think they know whereas if truth be told, they actually know not.

Open letter to the wife - From Small House

Written by Noma (A Smallhouse)

Well. Firstly I don't want this to seem like I don't respect the boundaries of marriage, but as a smallhouse, this is my point of view....

Ladies, we don't intentionally go hunting for your husbands, we meet them like you meet people every day, through friends, at the supermarket, at work functions hell even on the side of the road.
We don't always know from the get go the man is married because a lot of these brothers don't wear rings or come with a stamp saying "taken". Half the time he's alone, there's no trace of you, even in his car!

It takes a well trained eye to spot traces of another woman, e.g. seatbelt perfume, weave strands, hair oil on the headrest, etc.,

My job in your relationship is to give him a break from reality, yes you and the kids are real but so are the bills and school fees and work stress, I'm where he de-stresses. I know my place trust me I do, I know to keep quiet when you call while we together, I know not to spend on his credit card but to ask for cash, all this is to protect you, yes you, from pain, humiliation and suffering, I get a tired frustrated man and send you a well-rested happy man, thank me don't disrespect me for it!

Calling me won't change the fact that my clothes are expensive and my car is paid off, it won't change the fact that my university fees are paid and I get to go to the weekend conferences or boy's nights out, swearing at me won't change the fact that he grips my headboard when he rocks my world and screams like a girl, something you probably don't even know about the man you married.
You don't know the effort we put behind our little rendezvous just to keep your pudgy ass happy, and feeling secure.

Trust me the more you come after me the more he wants me, the more money he spends on me, the more intense our sessions get.
A true nyatsi will never ask him to leave you; instead she encourages him to stay with you even if you have messed up badly.

We never consider getting pregnant out of fear of having to deal with your sour face for the rest of our lives. So relax, your kids are priority numero uno, even to us, we pick out the toys and clothes he shows up with, we encourage bonding time.

Consider yourself lucky if you find my number, at least you know he's taken care of when you are tired, and he's going to come right back once we done re-furbishing my apartment. Oh and trust me, I do the fighting for us, it’s my job to make sure it’s just us two, any others will be dealt with severely by me, so don't ruin your manicure, I get a weekly one so it’s okay, let me do it.

I respect you, hence I stay away from family functions and make sure I take all my stuff out of the car when I was there, I don't call after he's left the office because I know it’s your turn. I have my own things, the rest is just a bonus for having a kind and sharing attitude, I'm a professional with a great job and earn enough, I don't have time to tend to a fulltime relationship hence I don't mind when he goes home to you.

My advice to you "mama'se khaya" stay in your home, and don't pack your stuff and go tell your mom how you failed at being a wife, it just makes you look stupid and weak and our man needs strong women around him. Look after your kids, tend to your home, cook those hearty meals you so famous for, I can't cook with these nails.
Don't ask about me, he's just going to lie and toss and turn in bed thinking about me in my victoria secret set he bought me for Valentine’s Day. Let me be, I will leave on my own accord one day.

If you don't we might just trade places and you going to be saying "izinto zabantu" or I consult sangomas, I don't, I would rather spend that money on expensive holidays with our man.
Truth is, I make him feel good, I'm a reminder of when he was young and I do all the things you are afraid to do, or just won't do because you believe you are past that, I'm forever young and I compliment him, you suit him, trust me honey there is a huge difference.

I respect marriage and all it stands for, that's why I'm doing my part to help yours stay together,
so don't think I don't, I respect the nice thing you have done and I love your kids too much to hurt them. Don't cry over me or what we do, let it be, play your part and I will do what I'm supposed to do.

Yours (and your man’s)

Noma the Smallhouse

You can read Response from Wife  to Smallhouse HERE

All men cheat? Ha ha ha

I recently told an acquaintance of mine how shocked I was by the behaviour of men who abandon their wives and children in the excitement of having won the attentions of a younger women or a white as has been happening with a lot of black men. There have been too many cases of children who are destitute when their fathers are living in the lap of luxury with another woman.

If a man is himself not living under a bridge, why should a man be forced by the courts to look after his children; it boggles the mind, but it happens on a daily basis nonetheless.

“How does a man possibly sleep at night, not knowing what his children and wife have eaten?” The guy’s response was not a surprise as I have been getting the same response from both men and women for some time now:

“You are only saying so because you don’t have a small-house of your own”. The reasoning of what seems to be the majority is that my sense of responsibility will be history once the super beings called Small Houses get hold of me. Ha ha ha.

I tried reasoning with man without much success. My line of reasoning was simple; if I am thinking clearly now, why should the sight of a younger and presumably sexier (in my case it’s not really possible) woman change how I take my responsibilities seriously.

Examples of men who abandoned their families to run off with a younger and prettier acquisition have been thrown at me each time I have tried to make people understand that abandoning your responsibilities is a choice and it being a choice it can be changed for a more reasonable choice: A choice like never abandoning your wife and children no matter what. Well, divorces happen – and they should happen within reason, but children are yours until you die and your responsibility for the duration of your life and beyond.

The problem with us men is that we tell each other nonsense whenever we are gathered. We make each other believe that our wayward behaviours are beyond our control; like there is some powerful natural force that forces us to sleep around without protection, lose our heads whenever a pair of sexy legs is within sight. Why do we behave as if blowing entire monthly earnings in a matter of days with a concubine is something beyond our control?

Advice to each other range from how to ‘handle’ our women, how screw the daylights out of women who ‘seduce’ us otherwise they will think we are not men enough to the ridiculous one of how it is inevitable for us to abandon all that means everything to us whenever a young woman decides to open her legs for us.

The story has to change. I decided not to make New Year’s resolutions for 2014 for obvious reasons. But I guess I will make just one; I will not be part of a conversation that does not promote responsible behaviour amongst men.

The very thin line between consent and date rape

The debate around date rape is old; too old. It is also new in that for centuries now it hasn’t been resolved and has caused so much complication, confusion and pain. Those of us who are sexually active, how many times has sexual intercourse been preceded by a verbal agreement to have sex? Not many times, if any. Where do we draw the line between rape and consensual sex?

Consent is mostly by way of body language, subtle signals and verbal communication that does not directly say, ‘let’s have sex’. My thesis excludes cases where brutal physical force is used, cases where date rape drugs or alcohol is used: That is straightforward rape and the law should be applied to such. My thesis centres around a woman feebly saying NO after a lengthy process of kissing and ‘romancing’. The ‘logical’ advice to give to men here would be to say, ‘take every NO to mean exactly that, NO’. But since when has sexual matters been logical?

I have heard a lot of men say, ‘If a woman agrees to come to my place, she has agreed to have sex with me. Otherwise why is she coming there?’ It’s a reasonable viewpoint, but of course it doesn’t justify rape. What woman doesn’t know that if a man invites you to his place, he wants sex? I will not presume to know what women think and I will let women speak for themselves here. Why do women go to a man’s place if they are not prepared to have sex?

If a man is travelling and he happens to remember that he has a female ‘friend’ in the city he is in, he will invite her for ‘drinks’ in his hotel room . Because his ultimate objective is to have sex with the woman, he will invite her to his room. I don’t want to believe that women are so naïve as to believe that he just wants to talk: In a hotel room? Of all the places he could have suggested to meet, he suggests his hotel room and we are supposed to believe that the woman did not know he wanted to have sex?

If, on the assumption that the woman agreed to have sex with him by coming to his room the man forces himself onto the woman, then he is guilty of rape. But if they kiss, cuddle, partially undress and the women utters a feeble NO when her panties are already on the floor and the men does not stop – can that be classified under rape? A very thin line indeed! I hope a day will come soon when women will openly ask what a man wants if he invites her to his hotel room or his place. That way, issues of protection can be discussed. Issues of expectations can also be discussed: A woman might assume that because she had sex with a man, they are now in a relationship when the man is thinking it was ‘just sex’.

The consent issue can be easy for women because men are mostly predictable when it comes to matters sexual. Women can just assume that all men; including their ‘friends’ wants to screw them and they will be fine. What are men supposed to do? Is there a difference between a smile that says, ‘I am interested in you’ and a smile that says, ‘I am human and I am just being polite’? What’s the difference between a woman who goes to a man’s office dressed in a miniskirt with the intent purpose of seducing him and a woman who just happened to be wearing a miniskirt when she decided to visit the office. How is a man supposed to differentiate between the two?

There is a lot of confusion around the issue of consent and open discussions should be held between men and women to clear the air. Or perhaps the issue is not around consent, but rather around what sex means for men and for women. But whatever it is, the thin line between consent and rape is a serious problem and a solution has to be found soon.