My wife, my daughter, my cows

stone which hit a bull owned by a white farmer during his presence and I still remember his furious face, up to today. Before 1980, there was mandatory nine-year sentence for cattle rustling in Zimbabwe: a sentence, which was not always guaranteed even for murder.
The size of the herd of cattle determined the status of an individual in society. Cattle had so much value that compensations for serious crimes or wars were often determined using cattle.
In some societies of the world, the relationship between the cow and the family is not in dispute. In India the relationship between cattle and people is deep and turns religious.
In most African societies a wife means cows going out of the family and the daughter reverses the process. So if a wife bears more daughters than sons, there is an obvious credit balance.
Last month my daughter wrote an email to me saying that she intended to get married quickly and she strongly felt that my presence was critical. Somehow, I regarded it as a joke and I hoped to attend to it in order of priorities.
That evening, whilst I was enjoying a breather of reflections between sweet naps of sleep, the issue found its way to the top of the agenda. This time, it was irresistible. Culturally, I knew that my daughter would never approach me about her marriage, but children of these days; one can never be too sure.
If I did not do something, I was not going to stand the future with her saying, “I told you!” If it was good for her, that strengthened my point for the cows. Her marriage meant increasing the size of my kraal. So, the following day’s assignment was set.
My father used to talk of large herds of cattle which were used during marriage settlement and the system is now translated into cash or material items to settle marriages.
The debate will never end on marriages of convenience and those for love. This is because nobody has developed a better formula for lasting love that we can all use, hence the “until death do us part” song couples declare before the priest seldom finds its way to the first anniversary.
During a church service, the voice of a Zimbabwean preacher tore the air, “Women do not have love!’ I was struggling to clean my ears, to check if there was something wrong with my country man.
As I looked at my neighbours to cross-check the notes on their faces, the words were repeated twice more. Everyone seemed to fidget and anxious to catch every word that followed. I was no exception but much more so, even getting restless.
Some people must have noticed my reaction, which made me uncomfortable. I was stuck in the middle of the church.
I craned my neck high intending to be the first to catch the explanation, in spite of the fact that I was the shortest person on that bench, in a church full that some chairs were on the aisles.
I waited to hear something better for almost eternity. The preacher had deliberately forgotten, yet he had caught the attention of most of us. There was a deafening silence with everybody asking, “If he can only finish!” it seemed.
The preacher went on to say that if a man gave a woman fifty per cent of his love, in return, the woman would give forty per cent. If the man gave his woman ninety percent love, the woman would give back a hundred per cent with some extras.
There was unending ululation, stamping of the floor and beating of benches from women. He emphasised that it was more logical for the man to initiate the love for the woman to respond.
If these words were to be followed through, it might mean that even arranged marriages were equally fulfiling and successful if the husband truly showed the love for his woman.
Our grand parents successfully followed this route. Payment or not of the bride-price (lobola) or an engagement ring is not a guarantee for a successful marriage but simply nourishes it.
No social experiment can successfully prove the progress of future love because love between couples is largely for the present, like any other animal. ‘Rich or poor’ dreams about the future of love have mostly been unreliable.
Whatever will happen with love in marriage, at least I am safe with my bride price tacked away in the bag.
The daughter is always reminded that at least she was once worth something in her life. She graduates into a wife and the cycle continues.
Of course, I drive my cows home, today. You will drive yours tomorrow, social balance. Nobody is poor. This is transfer of wealth with love, yours truly, which never happens in any other exchange situations. No inflation caused! That is development.