Granted, the first wife they say is the queen of her home (Aawo buuru keuram), but in all honesty and reasonableness, part of being called 'Aawo buuru keuram' is to be it, or at least act like it, by continually stepping up your 'Aawo' game and stop tempting fate.
Take a look at the circumstances of this lady: when she first met her man, she was as fine as the sunset in Hawaii; nice figure, fine eyes, chocolate colour, full lips and all. But soon as they got married and had just one kid, she gave up on life. Anytime the man comes home, sometimes with colleagues, she's seated under the mango tree dozing off or eating 'Njoganal' (evening meal), looking so shapeless on the mat like a 1971 MINI Cooper.
She wouldn't even reciprocate if the man asks how her day was. In his attempt to fix the relational U-turn, the man had invariably tried to take her out on corporate, anniversary and Valentine's Day dinners, but she thinks all those are youngish amusements, and she's not even 30. The scent she now produces is not unlike battered fish, and it doesn't matter if she was just coming from the kitchen or bathroom.
At night, she's a bundle of trouble wrapped up in bed, nagging about everything, including business calls that her busy husband receives. And because the man's only human, she left him with no choice but to go out and smoke his peace pipe. There he found emotional solace in this chick of so many agreeable qualities - and you know men, he's gotten himself a second wife - now folks think he's disloyal?
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