Diary,
I’m at the funeral of one of my oldest patients, who preferred to go by the name Mzee Maisha. True to his name, Mzee Maisha has had quite the life. Born in 1924, he fought for Independence, worked in the new government in various capacities and put aside an enviable amount of wealth. But if you asked him, he was most proud of achievements that had nothing to do with politics or a career.
“I have four wives,” he would say, “five if you count the one who went to be with Jesus, and 33 children. Try and match that, young man.”
With a resultant multitude of grandchildren and a smattering of greatgrandchildren, it’s easy to see where Mzee Maisha is coming from. But far from that, another observation fascinates me even more. Mzee Maisha died at 99 years old.
I’m only a lowly doctor who happens to be a sworn bachelor, and I lay no claim to being a scientific researcher. However, it is a known fact that most men die younger than women.
Some will tell you that’s because of men’s tendencies for risk-taking, substance abuse and interacting less with healthcare. That may be true, but is it just me or do most men who die very late in life happen to have lived a polygamous life? I mean, I’ve never attended a funeral where a 50-year-old man died leaving three wives.
Okay, I admit my bias against marriage for reasons that only make sense to me, but surely, there’s got to be something there, no? Maybe it’s not marriage that I’m so afraid of but monogamy per se.
Anyway, I’ll have to examine this issue later. One of Mzee Maisha’s daughters (specifically the one who used to bring him for his clinic appointments at the hospital) just called me into the servant’s quarters. Something to do with food, she says, but I see no one else eating yet. Maybe she just needs consoling.
“We’re not mourning,” she says. “At least I am not. I’m celebrating Mzee Maisha’s long and fulfilling life. Try and match that, young man.”
