Keeping up with the Murayas? Of Size 8 and DJ Mo’s lousy script of a marriage                                                                                                          

The Murayas have been trending the last couple of days, again! And yes, for the wrong reasons as it has become the norm in that business cum domestic partnership between an ex slay queen and the Lothario Dj hiding behind pseudo-salvation.

Yes, you had that right. Dj Mo and Size 8 (Is she size 8 any more, by the way, seen baby fats lately which is a great thing by the way) do not have a marriage. What they have is a fairly budgeted yet poorly scripted reality starring a former hood slag with insipid singing abilities and a Dj who has curved a niche in the gospel industry but who reeks of the stench of a ‘eff boy.’ My struggle (could not wait to use that PLO’s word) is that this attention-seeking duo whose marriage thrives on the validation of strangers has produced two offsprings.

The script reads something of the sort- with a dwindling career in the very competitive secular world, tired of being pimped, Size 8 finds love interest in a then-struggling Dj who stays in some shanty along Thika road. So smitten is she that she hangs her hoeing boots to start a family with this bloke. She has often narrated skipping over sewage just to see him. Who will begrudge her, every woman wants to settle down- even the ones that pretend that they do not give a rat’s ass about marriage.

Since it was founded on lust and desperation to settle, consequently, drama was bound to abound. Business allurements began to override the tenets of marriage. Every single detail was fronted on YouTube and TV shows and thence they became fodder for blogs. To keep relevant and earn that coin, the couple without an ounce of shame shared their bedroom issues in public. The singer and evangelist once went public about being sexually starved by her husband who has since complained that it would be more fun shagging a mannequin that his ‘boring’ wife.

It is confounding and stupefying how this generation throws around the word marriage with careless abandon and with nada modicum of reverence attached to this pertinent institution.

This is despite the fact that marriage remains one of the most fundamental and universal phenomena that both science and religion concur that is central to the wellbeing and continuity of humanity. It is also an accepted measure of social discipline and as an expedient to eliminate social stress due to the sex rivalry.

It has however been reduced to an often accidental union of convenience. But I will let sociologists, religious leaders and shrinks handle this discourse more profoundly.

Now what piqued my fancy in the cheating saga surrounding the dramatic series so-called the ‘Murayas,’ is that Kenyans were flummoxed at the ‘calibre’ of woman Dj Mo cheated with. A man’s shaft is like the stomach. If it wants, it wants. And it wants what it wants. In fact, it has a brain of its own and most times, the oblongata between the ears and the one crafted from muscles between the legs are not often in tandem of thought.

What baffles me more is that even men were wondering why Mo went for a lass who looks like something a cat had dragged from the gutter. Okay, I loathed her weave and the nose ring more profound than her thinking capacity (women who kiss and tell are ignorant tarts) but come -the hell –on, was Mo shagging her face or weave for that matter? Men cheat for an array of reasons including for the freaking sake of it but mostly, it is to meet a need.

My issue-nay-scratch that, my struggle- is not the lady’s uninspiring face. But that she is a destitute of sense and manners. Why she went to tell that imp of her private stuff with a married man is something I cannot wrap my mind about. Men, if you must cheat, get someone with a functioning head. Not these street rodents.

Agreed, a young energetic man like Mo cannot be subjected to bible verses and prayer sessions when he is supposed to be unleashing the bull in him. Reason 203 why I cannot stand religion. Imagine being staved because wife is fasting, or she is no longer feisty in bed because Jesus will frown at her sucking your meat! Heck!

Size 8, take this pro bono unconventional advice albeit from this heathen. No amount of starving yourself of food and prayer will salvage your marriage. That is a hoax meant to confuse the brainwashed. God has better things to do like saving us from Corona. Start by respecting your man. Those public shouting matches can be done in private. Be a Margaret Thatcher in Private (when necessary) and a duchess in public.

Two, be a freak in the sheets. Saw you doing 360 degrees during Mateke days, what, two kids later now you can barely lift your limbs in the sack? You are still a young woman, be a ‘hooker’ for your man! Screw him so nasty that even Jesus will smile and bless that marriage. And quit being boring, be spontaneous- try bending over on the balcony- it doesn’t have to be once a week kama ibada yawa!

And lastly Madam Linet. Men mostly do not have much sense. Google Aoko- found her? Yap, that’s me. I defend men vehemently. But on the surface. This article might seem scathing but it is raw facts- call it tough love. I have empowered you here than Mo. So here is the thing, if what you guys is, like I have labelled it, some lousy reality show, then great. If I am wrong and it is a marriage, get your business out of the public. Have limits of what you show us. You can still be a celebrity and guard your family. The onus is on you!


Here is one of my favourite writer’s poems on marriage.

“It gives two purposeless lives a work,
And doubles the strength of each to perform it.
It gives to two questioning natures a reason for living
And something to live for.
It will give new gladness to the sunshine,
A new fragrance to the flowers, a new beauty to the earth
And a new mystery to life.”


–Mark Twain


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