By Maroushka F. Kanywani
The presence of another woman in a relationship is not foreign in the collectivist culture that has largely shaped my understanding of relationships. Many women knowingly or unknowingly are sharing their partner’s affection, resources, and time.
While many wrestle with the concept of polygamy and polyamory from a Judaeo- Christian or African cultural perspective, both practices are, to varying degrees, accepted and navigated – albeit often uncomfortably.
This cultural context perhaps best explains why when I began to feel the presence of another woman in the relationship, it started out as a faint feeling first, before I fully understood it.
Women the world over have had these conversations with their female friends. If this has never happened to you, chances are you know someone it has happened to.
Like me, she had a history and came from a distinguished lineage not of her own choosing. She just was. She was well travelled and was known to both the ordinary and the not-so-ordinary.
She attained the rare and much sought after distinction of being a welcome addition, regardless of the occasion.
Be it a celebration or an uncomfortable hardship, whether one was looking to connect or escape, she was there and totally nonjudgmental or maybe even nonchalant.
She was the embodiment of the old saying, “Home is where you hang your hat.”
I envied the ease and fluidity with which she effortlessly glided between different worlds. It was a versatility that I too, had initially sought or at least had tried to cultivate.
She had that rare ability to be both tangible and inconspicuous at the same time. A trait highly desired by many men. There, but not there.
No matter how refined or humble the surroundings were, she was always at ease.
Her ethereal nature allowed her to eschew wealth, or status and she never sought external validation. She did not need to.
Whether it was during a deep internal struggle or a moment of sophistication and elegance, she offered her steadfast companionship and the eternal promise of pleasure, escape, and relief.
And one thing of note…She was always available. Always.
She never demanded explanations. Nor did she ask difficult questions.
And that was where her power lay.
Before long she became my greatest competition. Some say it was inevitable.
What a formidable adversary!
She was prioritized.
She occupied a place that I had not yet breached. When the weight of the world was heavy on him, he defaulted to her.
It was subtle at first, but eventually he dropped the mask.
In many ways, she was his ICE contact – his “in case of emergency” person.
And if I am honest, there were moments when I envied what they had.
I envied the devotion. I envied the loyalty. I envied the certainty of their connection.
No matter what happened, no matter how many times they parted ways, he always found his way back to her, like a homing pigeon returning to the place it instinctively knows as home.
She never had to earn his trust, reclaim his affection, or negotiate her place in his life.
Her position was simply understood. She was the first wife.
I was the second.
Or the third.
Maybe even the fourth. But I was never the first.
In our polygamous society, there is almost an unspoken understanding: you do not usurp the first wife. You learn your place. You accept your rank. You conduct yourself accordingly.
As first wife and without ever uttering a chastising word, she quietly but firmly claimed her place. And space. That sense of permanence and confidence was daunting.
The decision to comply remained entirely up to me, or was it us?
My internal debates and dialogue were vicious and at times, unforgiving. Until I finally understood the truth. A truth that I admit was facilitated by a few who had better discernment than I did.
My adversary offered escape without accountability. Acceptance without expectation. Comfort, not confrontation.
The hardest part about my epiphany was the realization that my rival was not another woman.
My co-wife was actually not a person.
She was a bottle of gin.
He chose her. First.
Comfort over confrontation. Calm refuge over introspection.
And I finally made a choice, too. I chose me and the future waiting for me.
ABOUT AUTHOR
Maroushka F. Kanywani is a Ugandan-Canadian writer whose work explores the intersections of identity, relationships, family, and the tensions between tradition and modern life.
Drawn to stories that reveal the extraordinary within ordinary lives, she writes essays and fiction about the spaces where love, loss, culture, and memory collide, often through unexpected metaphors and quiet moments of revelation.
By profession, she is a Strategic Communications Consultant with experience spanning government, international development, academia, and regional partnerships.
She holds an M.A.(Communications) from McGill University.
