What Happened In Regina?

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You marry someone. You share a bed. A table. You know how many sugars they like in their tea. You learn to live with how they unroll the toilet paper like a child with Parkinson’s Disease. How they leave their clipped nails all over the sink. You love them through their copious drinking, their irresponsibilities, their lack of accountability, their bad money habits – the usual hit list. Of course, you aren’t Jesus’ first cousin yourself; you aren’t perfect, but you are in a marriage, and marriage’s other name is compromise. However, one day, seven years later, your gas runs empty, and you walk away from the ruins of that marriage, its resentments and bitterness having piled all the way up to your gills.

Broken, teary, soul-weary, you run off and run into a friend’s arms, and you two get a baby.

Of course, it’s not ideal. By Jove, it isn’t. This isn’t what the plan was, your friend mutters.

“Of course that didn’t work out, he wasn’t ready for anything serious. So that ended after a short while,” you tell me. Me being Biko, who’s having an overnight fruit salad at the balcony on Sunday. You just came back from church. You are in your bedroom, door closed because your son, now 10, is lurking about, and you don’t want him to hear mum’s sordid love tales. Ha-ha. At some point, he will budge into the room, and you will turn away from the camera and tell him, “I’m on the call, dear.” He will come and stand next to you and stare into the camera. Dark, handsome boy; full head of hair.

You will tell him, “that’s my friend, Biko.” He will say “Hi.” I will say, “Hi, I love your jumper.” When he closes the door behind him, you will say, “You can tell he is one of you.” I will chuckle because “one of you” here means he is Luo, which implies that we own him, and if things continue to go sideways in this hovel of a city, we can always show up at your door and tell you, “We hear there is one of us living here. We are here for him. Hand him over please, the bus to the village leaves in an hour.”

Anyway.

So you find yourself single. And it’s not bad. Not really. You have your son. Motherhood takes the time your job leaves you. And then there is school; because what is a single girl doing if she isn’t doing a Master’s degree? So, busy like a woodpecker, knobbing at life with a solid neck. But after a while, the chill of loneliness starts blowing under your door in a small whistle. And it creeps into your house. When you go to bed and are lying on your back in darkness, you feel it under your sheets, and it does things to your heart, to your body. It stirs a longing, which slowly rises to a boil. You crave someone, a man, to share details with about your day, your great consuming fears. Someone who will have an answer, or an ear, or both. Someone to touch your breasts and look at them like those men in the gold mines of Ikolomani look at specks of gold in their muddy hands.

“I have a friend who relocated to Canada. I mentioned to her that I was searching; if she knows someone nice and single, she can introduce me to him.”

Much to your delight, she responded, “Actually there is a guy here, divorced, children all grown up. A nice guy. I will ask him!”

Two days later, she comes back and says the man is keen to have an introduction. A day later, you are introduced.

He was 52, nine years older than you. You talk for a few weeks, then start a long-distance relationship.

Wait, wait, what did you like about him?

“He seemed like a transparent guy,” she says. “He didn’t have any reservations talking about his life, his past marriage, his failures there which were similar to my ex-husband’s, but he had turned a corner. He spoke about his drinking, which he had managed to stop. He was sober. His life seemed more organised. Against my ex-husband, he was ticking all the right boxes. I liked that he was clear that he wanted to settle down again, get married, build a life with someone.”

And what did you want?

“A father figure for my son. Someone who would build a life with us, a family. And we were on the same level. We soon started making plans for the future, to marry and relocate to Canada. He told me of great job opportunities there, especially if I came with my Master’s degree. Great schools for my son too. A good life, you know? He was very encouraging. Very positive. I felt like it was a jackpot coming my way. I felt lucky because I had been very unlucky with love in Kenya. I don’t know if it’s important to say, but he is Maasai.”

Oh yeah? With the whole loopy ear-lobe thing?

You laugh. “No, Biko.”

How boring. Can I ask you a very intrusive question?

“Sure.”

Is it true that when Maasai men circumcise, they leave a strand of skin hanging from under their glans? This thing that does magic tricks.

You roar with laughter. “Who told you that?”

I heard…in the bar.

“Well, he didn’t have that!”

So, no dangly earlobes and no hanging skin. This is going well. Is he from Olotokitok, at least?

“No, Kiserian. He’s not your typical Maasai man.”

What’s the point? I mutter under my breath, if you are going to be Maasai, be a Maasai.

You do the whole online dating thing for ten months, now engaged to be married and seriously talking about life after. In January of 2022, he flies down to put a ring on it. His flight touches down at 11:30 pm. You stand outside the arrivals, holding your breath with all the butterflies in Nairobi in your stomach. You are holding a single stem rose. Throngs of people spill out and run into hugs or taxis. You wonder what he will look like in person. You realise you have never seen his legs before, just his torso. You don’t know exactly how tall he is, if his belly is bigger in person. Your hands shake a bit. Your rose trembles.

Then, there he is. Your fiancé. You hand him the rose and hug. He grins boyishly and stares at the rose. A Maasai man holding a rose. No bolt of lightning smites him. The world doesn’t end. He’s chatty. He’s also nervous. He pushes the trolley, looking around, saying how things have changed, how good it feels to be back. The sky is dark, but your heart is shining bright with love.

“I didn’t feel it right for him to come into my house with my son on the first day,” you say. “And anyway, I think around that time my mother was also visiting. So we got to an Airbnb and settled in. I must have made him tea.”

You made him tea?! Sweet!

“I don’t recall, but yeah, it was too late to eat. So I made tea. We sleep. The next…”

Wait…wait…wait. You sleep? Did you not consummate that meeting?

“Biko! That’s private.”

Which part?

“Ha-ha. Well…no…we didn’t….”

Why not?

“I can’t really get into it…but you know…anyway, he said he was tired.”

Canada is far, I imagine.

“Yes. That wasn’t even an issue to me, to be honest. The first issue was when he didn’t refund me for the Airbnb I had booked. We had talked about this before he came. There was a deposit involved, but he never brought it up. I assumed he would take care of it. But I left it because he had many other bills he needed to take care of, including meeting the parents on both sides, the cost of the AG wedding, and all that.”

Your parents meet. Your siblings meet. Everybody meets everybody. You tie the knot at the AG’s office in Thika. You wear a solid cream dress with a flirtatious shoulder design, and he stands next to you in a three-piece suit and a red bowtie. Your son rocks a suit and a tie. Lunch later is at Taji Gardens. The reception is a very intimate and small affair of 70 people at Parklands Sports Club, and then off to a honeymoon at the coast for three days. You tell him, “This isn’t a honeymoon babe, we will need to do a proper one.”

He tells you,” I will take you to Mexico City, baby, you will love it”. “There were money cracks there during the wedding. I contributed some money, but I felt like he felt like I should have contributed more. But why should we go Dutch? He’s the man, he is marrying me. Couples should talk about money.”

He goes back to Canada and starts processing the papers. You settle into an online marriage. He suggests a great Catholic school for your son. Education is free. Healthcare is free. He is an engineer and lives in a home he’s paying a mortgage for. The forecast of your life looks promising. You will get a job, and you guys will settle into making a great life for yourselves, and your son. You will send money home, invest in property, grow wealth. This math is not bad, to be honest.

After five months, the papers are ready. Time to pack your life up. You sell some furniture and send some stuff – like your car – to your mom’s. Your son is excited. He has been telling the whole world that he’s off to Canada to start a new life with his new dad. You say goodbyes. You promise to write frequently. (No, this isn’t 1976, there is the internet). All your life fits in two suitcases.

“I’m excited and nervous because this is a new life I’m starting, with a new person, in a foreign country. I don’t know what awaits me. I know I’m ready for it because I sought it, but I feel like once I land in that country, I will have less control of my life.”

A layover in Amsterdam. Touchdown in Calgary. A little layover, then another flight that lands in Regina, Saskatchewan. You walk out with your son’s little hand in your hand. Dusk and cold have gathered to receive you. “Mama, will we see snow?” your son asks. You don’t see snow, but you see your husband waiting with two bouquets of flowers, one which he hands you and one for your son. He’s grinning widely, talking, asking about the flight, turning in his seat as he drives to look at your son and laugh at something he asked about Canada. You are a family again.

What was your initial impression of Canada?

“The house was smaller than it looked on video calls, and the walls were so thin that for a while I couldn’t bring myself to get intimate, certain that my son could hear us,” she says.

“Our bedroom door didn’t lock, and in those initial weeks, my son was always needy, so he would simply walk into our bedroom. Many times I woke up to find him standing over me, looking at me. That irritated my husband. He felt that my son was too needy, and we quarrelled about that. I told him he had forgotten how children behaved because his were all grown and gone. My son was 8, in a foreign country with the only person he knew, so obviously he was going to want to be around me for a sense of security.”

Canada never really grows on you.

“I have worked outside the country before, done a bit of travelling, but Canada never really felt like…home. But I said, come on, give it time.”

Your son goes to school and settles in fast; he enjoys it and makes new friends quickly. You, on the other hand, really struggle to settle in. Your home doesn’t feel like one, with the thin walls, and tenants that live in the basement. Life doesn’t pan out as you had predicated on paper.

When you tell your husband that you have some responsibilities back home – chama loans, sacco loans, etc. he says, “We can’t talk about money until you get a job.” That takes you back. Thankfully, you have some money from your pension, so you send some home to take care of those loans as you apply for jobs. You make numerous applications, but nobody responds, not even a regret. After a few months, you start panicking. You have a Master’s degree; what’s going on?

“Maybe you should try in another field, homecare”, your husband suggests.

So you do, and after a few applications, you get a job in a private home for the elderly. Your job is to feed them, clean up after them, and give them medicine. Three days a week when your husband isn’t working because someone has to look after your son. All factors being what they are, you realise that you have a money problem when he sits you down one night, and breaks down how bills work. In short, you are living on credit. No matter how hard you two work – and you can only work so hard because you can’t work any more hours because you have a son to watch over, and a nanny costs an arm and a leg – you can’t break even.

You are a hamster on a wheel. You take three buses to work, leave early to come and be with your son at home when he’s home from school. You aren’t making much, maybe 1200 dollars a month to take care of some household obligations to ease the pressure on him, but it’s not enough. You are borrowing from Paul, and running away from Sarah. The circle of credit is relentless. So one day, a particularly harsh winter, you sit him down after your son has gone to bed and tell him, ‘Look, it seems that whatever money I earn and give you isn’t going to be enough to pay off your debts. I can’t work more because we can’t afford a nanny. You can’t work any more than you already are. What is the way forward?”

He dismisses it, says it’s not easy in Canada for most people, and that things will settle down.

Things don’t settle down. At some point I ask myself the ugly question: “If I can’t make money and better my life in Canada, then what am I doing here?”

You have a conversation with your husband, a difficult one, and it doesn’t go down well because you get angry, and at some point, you tell him, “I feel like you brought me here to help you pay off your bills; I’m not that someone.”

You say that this was not what you expected of your lives here.

“How are we going to retire back in Kenya if we are barely making enough to save? Maybe I should go back home and try to make it work there?” And he looks at you and says, “Yeah, maybe you should try that.”

So after a month or so, you pack another two suitcases, hold your son’s hand, and off you go.

Calgary International Airport.

Amsterdam Airport, Schiphol.

Jomo Kenyatta International Airport.

You land at JKIA in May 2024 after a tremendously difficult financial and domestic year in Canada. You then embark on rebuilding your life. Looking for a house. Making calls, shaking trees for jobs. Calling old contacts.

“Oh, I thought you left for Canada?”

“I did.”

“Uhm, are you back for holiday?”

“No, I’m back.”

“Oh.”

That kind of thing. You are happy to be back. You don’t mind the long-distance marriage. You will work here and make the retirement dream work for both of you. But then in December, while on a video call, your husband says, “Look, just a heads up, I have filed for a divorce.”

It’s May now. When you look back at the prospects, at what seemed like greener pastures, at the three-year marriage, it felt like a dream that happened and ended very fast.

**

What’s the hardest thing that happened to you last year? Ping me: [email protected]


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58 Comments
  1. Oh my. Truly what happened in Regina. Ought to have stayed there. I could only picture, that pic of you holding your son’s hand arriving at the airport. Like, look son, we are back home. Hope everything turns out well though..

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  2. There’s this cartoon called Fugget About It. Based in Regina, Saskatchewan. I saw the name and remembered the cartoon. Good read though. Grass isn’t always greener…

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  3. I like risk takers. Glad that she was not afraid to come back home, sad that it did not work out.

    Lakini Biko si you had some crazy questions haki? Do not be listening to Bar conversations from 1am…..

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  4. Things don’t settle down. At some point I ask myself the ugly question: “If I can’t make money and better my life in Canada, then what am I doing here?”

    The grass is not always greener…..water your own grass.

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  5. He definitely brought her there to pay the bills.
    He was too eager. she was too desperate so easy to take advantage of her. am a single mum so i get it. you meet a lot of users.
    she needed to have gone for a long visit before they got married to get a glimpse of how her life would be. Men are the greatest embellishers.. that man will lie lie lie. you have to always fact check.

    Am glad she got out though she will find a better man and hopefully learnt her lesson.

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  6. Most of the times, our primal desires leads us to far off land in pursuit of success only to realize we’ve attained it already….acres of diamond

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  7. The truth most are not ready to admit! If you have a job where you are able to comfortablely meet all your needs and save a little don’t resign for greener pastures! it’s grueling and utterly lonely! Home is the best!

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  8. If I was someone with PD, I’d find ‘like a child with Parkinson’s disease’ offensive. Because I do not have PD but work with people living with PD and I have learnt and see their struggles, I feel offended on their behalf. PD is no joke. No one asks to have this horrible disease. I’m disappointed Biko.

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  9. When I come across stories like these, I cement my decision to always live in my Country, Kenya.

    My Maasai husband, has that ‘dangly earlobe’

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  10. i feel so sorry for the young boy
    the guy was a user
    Glad that she wasn’t afraid of restarting again.

    All the best

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  11. When he said…we’ll discuss finances when you get a job…Oh what an ass! A woman doesn’t have to be actively earning to have a seat at the money table.. Eish…
    I hope you’re settled and happy back home. Karibu Nyumbani. All the best doll..

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  12. I’m a Kenyan living in Western Europe. You really have to be careful before uprooting your life to get married to a person living here.

    This tale is more common than you think. Africans move aboard, don’t get a partner abroad, go back to Africa to marry an African they only know via the illusion of a long distance relationship, bring the African abroad and divorce them shortly after.

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  13. Relocation is very tough. Tougher than what most people imagine. However, things actually do get better after some time. That time is never defined; at times, it feels like pure luck, other times, you may be able to connect the dot – your result matching your efforts and hardwork.

    Having lived in 2 different continents apart from my dear Africa, I will say North America [US, Canada] is not a bad place to relocate to. Be ready to work hard and be patient while you are also consistent. Indeed, there is “American dream” and gradually you will get there. If married, both partners must be 100% committed to the project. Yes, it is a project! There are days a partner doesn’t feel 100%, that is when the other partner balances it and bring the remaining percentage! There are tasks or responsibilities that could be too much for one to handle, that is when the other chips in and complete it for the family. Hey, both of you may also feel low and not empowered – you could only muster 50% of what is required. Do not feel bad, that 50% is your 100% at that moment. Celebrate it! Craft the way forward for the balance.

    Stay focused and be responsible, after all, you are an adult! May God bless all our hustle, amen.

    Double OO.

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  14. I think she should have left the man, not the country; first because the country still had the potential to materialize her financial dreams if she hadn’t been recruited into paying the man’s mountain of bills accumulated over years. Secondly, that education would have been good for the boy, leading to a greater job future for the boy. After leaving the man, she should have relocated to a province with better opportunities — Saskatchewan isn’t that, unless you are big on agriculture and all. Alberta and Ontario would have opened a whole new world for her, plus those are more vibrant and would have given the home feeling that she longed — Saskatchewan isn’t that too. Then she should have had her academic qualifications evaluated and equated to the Canadian system, getting a certificate that would be readily accepted in the job market in Canada. While doing this, government would have been paying her every month for the child’s welfare, paying her a monthly stipend and paying for her house until she gets back on her feet. In the meantime she would have taken advantage of the available government-sponsored short courses to gain skills for a given sector and get employed in good jobs paying better money than what’s paid in Saskatchewan, which has a very bad minimum wage. Because her husband’s world literally swallowed her up, she didn’t have the opportunity to learn of the existence of all these avenues. Otherwise life would have turned around for her and her son in a shorter while than back home in Kenya if she hadn’t rushed to leave the country. Two years is a really short time for things to have turned around. She needed at least four years in the country for things to stabilize and for a fast climb to start. Clearly the man’s world kept her from all this information. For instance, all some people do is wait for the money government pays their kids and they survive on that for the most part.

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  15. For the initial years, its never easy for freshly relocated peeps trying to settle in. The home sicknesses, the unrealistic expectations, the realities on the ground and the hard life in a new country, especially, if back at home, things weren’t that hard on your side. Sometimes, the majority of us do far much better back at home than their counterparts abroad. However, I feel like at 52years (assuming maybe he had stayed in Canada for 10yrs or over), things ought to have been working out for him, since (again), he had secured papers. Sad that he just wanted a “roommate” to help him settle his household bills. Sometimes, its irritating that you are doing homecare services with a Masters Degree, but, with a little patience, things might have curved in and new opportunities could have popped up. If the divorce would have been filed with her being in Canada, she could be enjoying child support now, or the government would have taken care of the child’s welfare (social services are normally available).

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  16. Reading this story, being in the USA, and my experiences with relationships and some online, I can only say being a single mum is not easy. I will date again in my dreams or when all my kids will be adults. It reaches a point in life you just put a stop and shift your focus fully to your f&f life.

  17. No one ever believes that sometimes you’re sponsored abroad to make life easier for them instead of you. He got companionship and shared bills (which is what life there is all about) but she didn’t increase her standard of living. Everyone should think twice before moving abroad.

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  18. I thought I was the only one …..having gone through almost a similar same ordeal last year with my six year old son, I can relate with Regina.

    In December 2024, my marriage of around 6 months came to an end..long story for another day. We dated in March-June 2024 , moved in together in June 2024 and December we went our separate ways. Sometimes it sounds like a fairly tale!!!

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  19. Better to have visited the Maasai in Canada first, to get a feel of the place and the measure of the boyfriend, before committing to marriage.
    Oh well, water under the bridge now and hopefully, a lesson well learned, never to be forgotten.

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  20. You are so brave!! I wish you went for a visit first. Many are stuck majuu in the endless hamster wheel. I particularly find Canada has less opportunities for professionals. The yues is better, angetoboa. Pole, you’ll rebuild.

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  21. My partner was diagnosed with Parkinson’s almost 5 years ago. His disease has progressed significantly in the past year, and he begun to have delusions. He also had side effects from carbidopa/levodopa, which we decided to stop, and our primary physician decided he should start on PD-5 formula 4 months ago from UINE HEALTH CENTER. He now sleeps soundly, works out frequently, and is now very active since we started him on the PD-5 formula. It doesn’t make the Parkinson’s disease go away, but it did give him a better quality of life. We got the treatment from www. uineheath centre . c om

  22. it’s true biko that thing you heard in the bar. it’s called ngwati in kikuyu. it was the traditional way of circumcision for kikuyu, masai n samburu. it works wonders but only from bendover position. Hahaha!!

  23. Too bad things didn’t work out for her in Canada professionally. I live here and if you ask me this is one of the best countries in the world with regards to.opportunities and advancement. Truly, people’s experiences are never the same. Glad she doing well in Kenya.

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  24. it gets better if you are resilient, theres a pathway to RN. RN make a lot more. also kids grow. i think tha man was solid, regina wasnt patient

  25. I admire her courage, that she took the risk to fly to Canada , that she had courage to admit when it did not turn out as she had hoped, that she was courageous enough to come back home.
    I wish her grace.

  26. I have not tried marriage, so it’s all very proper if I am ignorant, but this doesn’t look close to anything I would want…

  27. WAIT WHAT????
    AM STILL SHOOK BY WHAT I JUST READ,DEALING WITH THE TRAUMA OF A FAILED RELATIONSHIP/MARRIAGE CAN BE DEVASTATING.SENDING HER LOTS OF HUGS AND LOVE,HOPE SHES DOING BETTER NOW AND THE SON IS OKAY.
    LOVELY PIECE MR. BIKO.

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  28. She rushed too fast. Rushed to marry. Rushed to ran back to Kenya. Everything was rush…rush.
    It would have been better for her son if she moved to another state ie Ontario, but she threw away the country when she left the man.
    I don’t know if she thought of a pre-nup before but it would probably have been helpful for her to keep what was hers and whatever they earn from that point of marriage is theirs. Not her coming in and struggling to pay debts she didn’t create.

  29. I now know how difficult majuu life can be. You’d have moved to Ontario though. Homecare is big and pays well esp in those village cities.

  30. Biko!!!

    Eish! What a roller coaster! That dude wanted someone to help him pay bills and free Dubai sweet sensation.

    Glad she wasn’t afraid to come back home and rebuild her life. It takes courage!

    One day, just one day when that breeze blows under her door lying to her that she needs a man around her, 4 words only should she shout out loud ‘GET BEHIND ME SATAN!”
    Have a good one.

    Cheers.

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  31. Sis, I too was recruited by a Kenyan man living in Europe. He wanted to “keep” me but still expected me to contribute by asking my siblings at home for money. He totally refused to do his part in securing residence status for me, I therefore couldn’t get a job. He discouraged me from taking jobs here and there by saying they were not paying enough or that me working illegaly would jeopardize his residence status. A lot of emotional abuse went on. Then GOD sent angels my way. Long story short, as they say. A Kenyan girlfriend offered to pay for my flight to Uganda for my late mother’s thanks giving service. My sister offered to take care of my then 2 year old daughter while I go back to get a job and work on getting out of the relationship. It’s been 2 years after the separation, a year after the legal battle and him moving out, my daughter and I are thriving. It gets better my sister. Keep your chin up.

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  32. Regina Blundered she needed to go alone first soma weather stabilise then bring the child, n way men can be ass holes too.

  33. Good heavens! That happened fast. I love people who aren’t afraid to start over again. I saw a post on Twitter that until your left ventricle stops pumping blood, you have a chance in life to reset. No matter the circumstances. Happy for her.

  34. That thing that dangles at the end of a Maasai tree is called a tie. We have it in Meru as well, and it does wonders to the pot.