Big Man WamkuluColumns

Should I go back to my former hubby?

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Dear Biggie,
I am Malawian lady based in Zambia. I am in a huge dilemma. I am into my second marriage. The first one ended after 10 years in 2012. There was no passion in our marriage, even though, it was, in no small measure, caused by my current husband.
My current husband (then my secret lover) swept me off my feet with his passion when we met in 2011. He lavished me with gifts and took me to places I could only dream of with my miserable husband. Yes, I was cheating on my husband, if you must ask.
I was so blinded by my secret lover’s dedication that I failed to notice that in the two years we had been in the relationship, we only came close to making love twice. On both occasions it ended in frustration on my part. I am using the term ‘came close’ advisedly because on those two attempts, his member became flaccid when it came to ‘doing it’.
At the time, I dismissed it. Maybe he felt guilty. He was married with two children. I was also married. I have heard that guilt can turn off some married men.
Nevertheless, in mid-2012 we eloped to Zambia where we are living now. The problem we have had is that since then, we have never made love; all our attempts end at the same stalemate. One day I confronted him and he confessed that he has suffered from what he suspects is penile erectile dysfunction since puberty.
It came like a bombshell to me because it didn’t explain the children he had with his former wife. He said he also had no idea how she conceived and he never asked her.
Now, Big Man Wamkulu, it has been three years without getting the proper feel of a man and it is driving me out of my mind. Should I leave him and seek the forgiveness of my former husband? Or is there any way I can assist my husband?
NK, by email.

My dearest NK,
Do any of the following proverbs mean anything to you?
–As you make your bed, so you must lie on it.
–You cannot have your cake and eat it too.
–All that glitters is not gold.
–Ichi chakoma, ichi chakoma, pusi anagwa chagwada.
They should, my dearest NK, because they describe your behaviour and your miserable situation. Where I come from, we would say you sacrificed your love and marital stability at the altar of materialism and you are getting your just desserts.
Here is the harsh lesson which you must learn. When my mother cooked anything, she tasted the soup first. If she had applied less salt, she would add more. If she had excessively salted the food, either she would pour out the soup and add some water, or she would advise us, as we sat at the table, to have a glass of water handy. And unless you are buying a vehicle via the Internet, you test drive it. When you are satisfied with it, you buy it; when you are not, you leave it.
You, NK, tasted the soup and discovered there was no salt, but you still went ahead to serve it. You test-drove that car, not once, but twice, but on both occasions the cylinders were misfiring, it was leaking fuel like there is no tomorrow and you still bought it. Three years later, you want to return it to the seller and get your old car back?
Now, what will you say when you go back to your husband? That you are a still as good as when you dumped him three years earlier? You are in the habit of fleeing from your problems and your husband would be a certified idiot to take you back. You are damaged goods, lady, unfit for marriage. The good news, though, is that you have a career waiting for you at Bwandilo or Kamba.
Your man’s problem reminds me of what happened to some friend of mine when we were both in secondary school. The fella could put in a shift when it came to women. I was an amateur by comparison and I, BMW, don’t raise up my hands in vain and it’s not too often.
However, his inadequacies unravelled when he hooked up with this other lassie. My friend, whom I shall call Mr X, could never rise to the occasion when the moment demanded. Try as he could, he could never bring himself to erection in her naked presence while elsewhere, with his other girlfriends, he ‘scored’ without any hassle. It turned out that his woman had been ‘locked’—or jinxed if you like—by her mother who did not want to get pregnant before marriage.
Mr X consulted some sing’anga in Machinga, who gave him herbs to ‘unlock’ the door. And it worked.
What’s my point? Are you sure your former husband has nothing to do with your current husband’s situation? Because, if that is the case, the therapy to get your man on the mend is scary. It involves sitting on nthumbila (tomb) in the graveyard in the dead of night.

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