“How Do You Spend Time With a Poor Man?” Her Parents Asked Her in Front of Me — I Smiled, But Inside My Heart Broke Completely
My name is Daniel Otieno, and this happened in Kisumu, near Manyatta Estate, on a hot Sunday afternoon that I will never forget. I had worn my cleanest shirt—light blue, slightly faded at the collar—and polished my only pair of black shoes until they shone. I was nervous but hopeful. I was finally meeting Achieng’s parents. We had dated for three years, sharing dreams under mango trees, walking by Lake Victoria, and promising each other that one day, things would be better.
Achieng had warned me. “My parents are strict,” she said softly as we walked toward their gate. “But please be yourself.” I nodded, holding a small gift bag with sugar, tea leaves, and bread—what I could afford from my modest salary as a motorbike spare-parts shop attendant. Her father, Mr. Okoth, sat on a wooden chair, newspaper folded on his lap. Her mother, Mama Atieno, stood with arms crossed, eyes scanning me like a judge in court.
We exchanged greetings. I spoke respectfully, my voice steady though my chest felt tight. They asked where I worked. I answered honestly. They asked where I lived. I told them—single room, iron-sheet roof, shared bathroom. Then came the silence. A long, heavy silence that pressed on my ears. Mama Atieno leaned forward and asked the question that cut me open.
