THE WESTERN INVENTION OF “CHEATING”: A CULTURAL CONSPIRACY AGAINST MASCULINE NATURE

By Fred Nyankuru

In today’s world, few concepts ignite moral outrage as quickly as “cheating.” But have we ever paused to question the origins, assumptions, and ideological underpinnings of this term? In particular, when applied to men, “cheating” may not be as universally immoral as we are conditioned to believe. In fact, it is increasingly evident that the modern idea of cheating especially within male-female dynamics, is a cultural construct rooted in Western individualism, not a universal truth.

Let us examine the deeper argument: that the moral condemnation of men who have more than one woman is not only ahistorical and unnatural, but a product of a monogamy-obsessed cultural system that views possessiveness as virtue and self-restraint as the only path to goodness. This view, however, runs contrary to nature, anthropology, history, and even many religious doctrines. The idea that a man with multiple women is inherently immoral, deceptive, or “cheating”—is a manufactured notion. It is not nature’s verdict, nor heaven’s decree. It is a western idea born of modernity’s attempt to cage masculinity and redesign the family according to ideals of romantic exclusivity.

Science tells us what tradition always knew: men are not naturally monogamous. Anthropological evidence across human societies reveals that polygyny (one man, multiple women) has been more common than monogamy across cultures and centuries. From African kingdoms to Middle Eastern tribes, from biblical patriarchs to tribal chiefs, men who had the capacity emotionally, economically, or spiritually, to lead more than one woman often did so, not as a crime, but as a mark of strength and leadership.

A man with multiple women was not “cheating,” he was leading. The moral question was not about exclusivity but about responsibility. Did he provide? Did he protect? Did he uphold honour? These were the tests of worth. Not whether he restricted his affection to one woman, but whether he governed his household with fairness, discipline, and wisdom.

In truth, nature itself endows men with a broader reproductive strategy. Unlike women, whose biology places a premium on selectivity and gestation, men’s biological wiring inclines toward spreading seed. This is not to excuse irresponsibility or exploitation—but to acknowledge the natural distinction. It is only when a society begins to deify individual desire and commodify sexual loyalty that it begins to judge a man harshly for answering to the very biology that nature gave him.

The rise of monogamy was not primarily a moral revolution; it was a socio-political one. In Western civilization, as individualism, capitalism, and private property began to take root, marriage was increasingly seen through the lens of exclusive ownership. A wife was not just a partner; she was property. Her body, time, and affection were claimed exclusively by one man, and vice versa. The language of love was made to sound noble, but beneath it lay the desire to control.

In this framework, the man who loved more than one woman was not seen as generous or expansive, but as a thief —stealing what another man “owned” or breaking the sacred contract of exclusivity. The western invention of “cheating” criminalized a natural impulse in the name of loyalty. But was it really loyalty? Or was it possessiveness rebranded as morality?

Contrast this with African, Arab, and many Eastern cultures, where the idea of a man having more than one wife was seen not as betrayal, but as a mark of blessing and strength provided he did not neglect his duties. The man was a cornerstone, not a cheater.

Even the oldest religions do not agree with the Western vilification of polygamy. Abraham, Jacob, David, and Solomon—pillars of Judeo-Christian heritage were all men with multiple wives. Nowhere does God condemn them for this. In fact, in some instances, their multiplicity is portrayed as divine favour. Islam, more explicitly, permits polygyny (up to four wives), provided the man can treat them justly.

What then are we doing when we say a man is “cheating” for loving or being with another woman? Which commandment did he break? Which divine edict has he offended? It is not the religion that cries foul; it is modern culture. A culture that has elevated romantic exclusivity to godhood and demonized masculine expansion as betrayal.

To call every non-monogamous man a cheater is to erase millennia of human history, denigrate entire cultures, and misrepresent religious tradition.

To be clear, there are men who choose monogamy, and there is honour in self-restraint. But let us not lie to ourselves. Such men are not necessarily obeying nature; they are suppressing it. They may do so for moral, personal, or practical reasons, and that is admirable. But it is a sacrifice, not a biological default. And we must recognize it as such. We must not criminalize or demonize those who choose another path especially when that path is older, deeper, and more human.

THE “OTHER WOMAN” VS. THE “MAIN WOMAN”: A FALSE HIERARCHY

Our modern obsession with categorizing women into “main chick” and “side chick” is a symptom of monogamy’s insecurity. In older societies, a man’s wives were women of dignity —not rivals or scandals. They were part of a house, a lineage, and a shared covenant. The idea that one woman must own the man’s entire heart and body is a recent, and arguably self-centred, invention.

Women deserve love, protection, honour, and truth —but not exclusivity at the cost of reality. A woman who knows her man’s nature and agrees to walk with him truthfully is more empowered than one who is lied to in the name of “faithfulness.”

The concept of “cheating” is not a universal truth; it is a cultural judgment born of Western ideals of exclusivity and possession. To brand every man who loves more than one woman as a cheater is to silence history, ignore nature, and dishonour the diversity of human relationships.

We can not force all men into a monogamous mould in the name of morality. Instead, morality should be redefined as honesty, responsibility, and leadership. A man with more than one woman, when he leads them with honour and truth, is not a cheater —he is a man standing in the fullness of his nature and calling.

HOW A NATION FALLS: TRIBALISM, BLAME, AND THE SLOW DEATH OF REASON IN KENYA

By Fred Allan Nyankuru

A nation does not always collapse in the loud clang of war or the sudden strike of foreign invasion. Sometimes, it dies quietly —decaying slowly from within, corroded not by bombs or bullets, but by the betrayal of its own people. Kenya today stands at such a dangerous crossroads, where ethnic loyalty is fast replacing national identity, and truth is routinely sacrificed at the altar of tribal narratives.

We are witnessing a worrying trend: the ethnicisation of everything —from political corruption to criminal stupidity. A rogue police officer acts with brutality, and within moments, social media lights up, not with a demand for justice, but with reckless speculation about the tribes involved. The officer is given a tribal name. So is the victim. And the country descends into its predictable tribal trenches —facts be damned.

When a hawker was recently shot by a thoughtless police officer, opportunistic individuals quickly assigned tribal identities to both the shooter and the victim. They branded the cop as a Kalenjin from Nandi and the hawker as a Luo from Homa Bay, not because this was true, but because it served a divisive political script. Their goal? To make the Luo community feel targeted by the Kalenjin. To fan flames. To poison minds. To ignite hate. This is how a nation is destroyed —not by what happens, but by how we choose to interpret it.

Collective Blame is National Suicide. When one person commits a crime, that individual, and only that individual must face the full weight of justice. But in Kenya, we have become addicted to collective blame. A politician from a particular tribe is caught in corruption? The entire community is shamed or rises to his defence. A criminal incident occurs? The tribal origins of the participants —real or imagined —are used to draw battle lines.

This culture is not only unfair; it is deeply dangerous. It fractures our national fabric and makes unity impossible. We no longer look at wrongdoing through the lens of law and morality but through the poisoned glasses of tribal politics. We trade in stereotypes and suspicions. We forget that the criminal is not his tribe. The thief is not his ethnicity. The rogue cop is not his county.

And yet, our failure to insist on personal responsibility —because we hate or love someone at the top —continues to doom our collective progress.

Even more alarming is that it is now the youth —the very people we hoped would rise above the tribalism of the past who are the chief drivers of this ethnic madness. Online, where truth should thrive in the age of information, tribal propaganda is the loudest voice. Educated bloggers —many of whom should know better —have become architects of division, crafting lies to inflame one community against another, all in the name of “resisting” or “defending” the government. This isn’t civic engagement. It’s civic destruction.

The youth were supposed to usher in a new Kenya —a Kenya that thinks, not one that hates. A Kenya that chooses values over tribes. Instead, many have taken the baton of tribalism from the old guard and are running full speed into the abyss. If our hope lies in the next generation, and that generation is already lost to hate, what hope then does Kenya have?

Some will argue that this is all part of freedom of expression —that everyone has a right to speak, even when they lie or incite. But is freedom of speech still noble when it is used to manufacture hate? Should we protect voices that deliberately manipulate facts to pit communities against each other?

This is not a call for censorship —not yet. But it is a call for introspection. Freedom without responsibility is simply chaos in disguise. And in Kenya, chaos has already worn too many masks (no pun intended) —from tribal clashes to election violence to misinformation.

Kenya’s soul is not buried yet, but it is wounded. The healing must begin with truth and personal accountability. We must reject the culture of blaming entire communities for the sins of one person. We must name criminals for what they are —criminals —not ambassadors of their ethnicity.

We must call out lies, even when they serve “our side.” We must confront hate, even when it comes from “our people.” True patriotism is not defending your tribe —it is defending the truth.

To the youth of Kenya: You were born at a time of promise. Do not squander that promise by resurrecting the tribal ghosts of our past. Use your voice to build, not burn. To question, not incite. To unify, not divide. Let us not become the generation that buried Kenya. Let us be the one that saved it.

Because if we continue like this, —baptising criminals with tribal names, turning incidents into ethnic grenades, excusing foolishness because it harms those we hate, then we are not building a nation. We are digging its grave —One tweet, one lie, one misplaced name at a time.

Kenya Must Reject Fred Matiang’i and Embrace Leadership of Conscience

By Fred Allan Nyankuru

When Dr. Fred Matiang’i recently emerged to comment on the brutal murder of a teacher and blogger, calling for justice and accountability, his words were met not with applause, but with widespread public backlash. Kenyans, in their sharp collective memory, reminded him of the many lives lost, bruised, or broken under his own tenure as Cabinet Secretary for Interior.

From the horrific bodies retrieved from River Yala, to the Kianjokoma brothers killed by police, to the countless incidents of state brutality, enforced disappearances, and judicial disregard, Matiang’i’s legacy is etched not in reform or compassion, but in blood and intimidation. And now, this same man seeks to re-enter the public sphere not just as a commentator—but as a potential presidential contender? We must say No—firmly, clearly, and finally.

While time moves on, truth remains stubborn. The Kenyan people are not forgetful. They are forgiving, yes—but not to be taken for fools. Dr. Matiang’i presided over one of the most oppressive internal security regimes in Kenya’s recent history.

Under his watch: Judges were threatened, and court orders routinely disobeyed; activists disappeared, and some reappeared in rivers or forests—lifeless; police impunity was shielded, not reformed; freedom of assembly and protest was criminalized, particularly for those critical of the state.

These are not allegations pulled from political opponents. These are facts burned into the memory of citizens and families who lost sons and daughters to police boots and bullets. And when Matiang’i now speaks the language of justice, the nation recoils—for he was once its chief abuser.

Let us be clear: President Ruto’s administration has deeply disappointed many Kenyans. From economic hardship, tax burdens, growing inequality, and institutional fatigue, the national mood is rightfully angry and restless. But in our desperation for change, we must not be manipulated into replacing a struggling regime with an unapologetic tyrant. That would be like choosing to be devoured by a lion instead of a hyena.

It is not progress if we move from mismanagement to dictatorship; It is not reform if we shift from incompetence to cruelty; And it is not justice if we replace impunity with even greater impunity. We must ask ourselves: Is Matiang’i really a better option—or just a recycled error dressed in new rhetoric?

Matiang’i does not stand alone. Behind his name loom the shadows of the very political tycoons who bankrupted Kenya economically and morally. He remains tightly associated with former President Uhuru Kenyatta’s regime, where public debt soared, national resources were looted, and institutions became pawns for elite interests. Matiang’i was no bystander. He was a willing, vocal, and zealous foot soldier in that system. He obeyed and enforced that order, no matter the cost to citizens.

Now that same old guard—rattled by shifting allegiances—seeks to repackage him as an independent saviour, hoping Kenyans will be too tired, too angry, or too naive to remember. But Kenya remembers. And this time, Kenya must refuse to be tricked again.

There is a better path. It is quieter, perhaps less flashy—but far more stable, wise, and rooted in principle. Former Chief Justice David Kenani Maraga is one such man, in my view. He is not a tribal strongman, not a pawn of billionaires, and not a career politician. Instead, he is a man who stood for the independence of the judiciary. A leader who fearlessly nullified a presidential election in defence of electoral justice. A devout and principled statesman whose life and leadership has inspired trust, decency, and hope. Maraga is not a media creation. He is a product of discipline, integrity, and courage.

If the people of Kisii—and Kenyans at large—must look toward one of their own for national redemption, let it be Maraga, not Matiang’i. One offers healing; the other reminds us of pain.

Let us call this what it is: a test of our national wisdom. Are we so desperate that we would entrust our future to a man who oversaw our suffering? Are we so short-sighted that we would allow the very oligarchs who looted us to return disguised as our redeemers? We must not let anger blind our judgment. And we must not let media-manufactured myths bury the truth we already know. Fred Matiang’i is not our future. He is our past, haunting us in new packaging.

Let us turn instead toward leaders of conscience, restraint, justice, and national unity. Let us rise, not regress. Let us choose wisely, not react emotionally.

Let us say clearly and loudly:

Matiang’i is not fit to lead this nation.

Kenya deserves better.

And in Chief Justice Emeritus David Maraga, we may just have that better path—rooted in principle, governed by humility, and guided by justice.

I’m glad Kenyans can remember, clearly, everything Matiang’i is.

Allan's Sonnet 3

CHAINED 

What Country Is This? 

What country is this, where silence buys the grave,

And words are crimes that beg for iron chains?

Where power strikes the weak it swore to save,

And truth once free now trembles bound in pains?

We built our hopes on law, on justice blind,

Yet see with open eyes her turned away.

The torch once passed to guide the lost and kind

Now lights the path where shadows rule the day.

Is this the soil where youth must bleed for speech?

Where questions cost more dearly than deceit?

Where arms that swore to guard instead outreach

To cage the heart and drag it to defeat?

Yet still we dream — for dream we must to mend —

A land where might shall learn to serve, not end.

Justice on Trial: The Tragic Death of Albert Ojwang and the Questions We Must Ask

By Fred Allan 

The tragic death of Albert Ojwang, a young, vibrant social media influencer from Kenya, after being arrested and transported over 300 kilometres from Homa Bay, leaves not only a bitter taste but also a trail of haunting questions in its wake.

Albert was not just a name on a trending hashtag. He was a son, a friend, a voice — a young man who had embraced the digital era to speak his mind, shape opinion, and engage his community. He was, by all standards, a Kenyan exercising his right to free expression, something enshrined in our Constitution. And yet, his story has ended in a cold, tragic silence — a silence that now demands loud, urgent questions.

The first question that cries out for an answer is a simple one: Why was it necessary to drag Albert more than 300 kilometres away from his home county just to detain him?

The alleged offence? A derogatory remark supposedly made against a senior police officer — a matter which, if indeed criminal, could have been handled efficiently by a local court in Homa Bay. In a country that prides itself on devolution and accessible justice, was it truly impossible to process a social media comment through legal means within the same jurisdiction it was made?

The optics of such a long transfer — from Homa Bay to an unfamiliar cell far from home — reek of more than just due process. They reflect something darker: a desire to intimidate, a show of force against a young man whose only weapon was his internet and a typing keyboard.

Secondly, our law enforcement officers — especially those in uniform and on the ground — deserve both respect and support. They operate under immense pressure, often with limited resources, in an increasingly volatile society. They are trained to be resilient, impartial, and calm in the face of provocation. They are, in many ways, the face of state power and the front line of public safety.

Which is why this incident is not just about one man’s death — it is a mirror reflecting our collective failure to uphold discipline at the highest levels of the chain of command.

If a mere insult, typed on a screen, is enough to provoke the might of the police machinery into such extreme response — what then is the threshold of tolerance? If uniformed men and women, trained to withstand the daily barrage of human chaos, cannot endure the sting of online criticism, what hope does a civilian have?

This is not a defence of insult or disrespect. It is a plea for proportion — for restraint. For sanity.

To the junior officers who were possibly following instructions — we extend compassion. You operate in a system where disobedience can mean career death. But that does not absolve the system of responsibility. If there is a culture in our security institutions that prioritizes ego over ethics, command over compassion, we must name it and tame it.

The circumstances of Albert’s detention remain murky. Maybe, as some hope, nothing untoward happened to him in custody. Maybe it was a tragic medical emergency. Maybe. But how do we convince a grieving public, an already sceptical citizenry, when the entire process began on such shaky, suspicious ground?

We must ask: Was Albert safe? Was he fed? Was he given medical attention if he needed it? Was he treated with dignity? Who watched over him in that cell, far from his family, alone?

Albert’s death is not just a personal tragedy — it is a national one. It is a loss of potential, of creativity, of youth. It is a blow to every young Kenyan who believes in speaking up, who believes they can question power without dying for it.

He was not a threat. He was not a criminal mastermind. He was a Kenyan with an opinion — and now he is gone.

Trust Kenyans. They will mourn him not with silence, but with questions. With demands. With resolve. They will refuse to allow his death to be just another hashtag, buried beneath the digital dust of yesterday’s outrage. Just like that, because of ego, government has one more thing for which to do damage control. Unsuccessfully, I predict.

The time has come to rethink our justice systems, our policing culture, and our tolerance for dissent. If our officers, trained to uphold the rule of law, cannot absorb criticism without unleashing force, then perhaps we are training them wrong. If our laws are bent to punish opinion rather than protect rights, then clearly we are writing the wrong future.

Fred Matiang’i Is a Scam: How Kenya Risks Being Tricked Into National Self-Suicide

By Fred Allan Nyankuru

In times of national crisis—economic collapse, unemployment, insecurity, and institutional rot—desperate citizens often reach for whatever figure appears strong, decisive, and unafraid. In Kenya, that figure has increasingly become Dr. Fred Matiang’i, former Interior Cabinet Secretary. To some, he is a no-nonsense administrator. To others, a strongman disguised as a saviour. But beneath the rhetoric, the bravado, and the media-crafted image lies a truth Kenyans must face with clarity and courage:

Fred Matiang’i is not a solution. He is a scam. And if we fall for it, we may be tricked into the most dangerous decision of our generation—electing our own undoing.

The Scam of the Strongman Persona

Matiang’i has masterfully cultivated a reputation as a strong, results-oriented bureaucrat. He speaks with force. He acts swiftly. He imposes authority. And it is this “strongman” brand that many disillusioned Kenyans find attractive amid the chaos of the current administration. But this is not strength in the service of justice or reform. It is authority in the service of impunity.

During his time as Interior CS, police brutality soared; Court orders were routinely ignored, especially those unfavourable to government agendas; Enforced disappearances and mysterious deaths became chillingly common; Press freedom shrank, and state intimidation of critics rose.

What kind of strength is this? —It is the strength of suppression, not leadership. The strength of fear, not respect. —Matiang’i’s brand of governance is not boldness—it is bullying. And mistaking tyranny for leadership is the first step toward national ruin.

The Scam of Media Myth-Making

Kenya’s most powerful media houses—many owned or influenced by the same tycoons who pillaged the country under the previous regime—have gone to great lengths to rehabilitate Matiang’i’s image. You’ll see the headlines: “Disciplined,” “Efficient,” “Tough on Crime.”

But what they won’t tell you is that the same man: Oversaw a police service whose morale and structure he damaged, especially by stalling promotions and unfairly favouring elite recruits, managed the most corrupt police recruitment exercise in living memory, and showed contempt for judicial authority, setting a dangerous precedent for lawlessness from the top.

These media campaigns are not journalism. They are corporate propaganda designed to repackage tyranny as technocracy. And it’s not by accident—Matiang’i is the chosen frontman of Kenya’s corrupt oligarchs, the very same who destroyed the economy, looted public coffers, and left millions in poverty —To vote for him is not to reject the elite. It is to reward them. To empower their latest disguise.

The Scam of “Change from the Past”

Some supporters claim Matiang’i represents change from the current regime. But let us be honest: He was part of a government that mismanaged the economy before Ruto’s regime even began. He served in the very Uhuru Kenyatta administration that ballooned debt, imposed oppressive taxes, and oversaw massive state capture. He was at the heart of a system that normalized contempt for the judiciary, patronage over professionalism, and power over principle.

How then is he change? He is not the alternative to the problem—he is a continuation of it. Matiang’i is not a new chapter. He is a return to the old, decaying book we’ve already suffered under. We cannot escape Ruto’s mess by jumping into Uhuru’s arms.

Let us be clear: electing Fred Matiang’i would be more than a political miscalculation—it would be a national act of self-sabotage. It would signal to the oligarchs that they can loot and manipulate, then return disguised as saviours. It would tell brutal state officers that violence pays, and lawlessness can be forgiven. It would discourage honest public servants who fight for integrity, knowing that tyranny is more rewarded than principle. It would be the equivalent of pouring poison into a glass and drinking it, just because the glass is new.

If we fall for the scam, the consequences will be brutal: The rule of law will collapse further. Media freedom will shrink. The deep state will entrench itself again. Ordinary Kenyans will become spectators in their own democracy.

Let us not confuse action with progress. Let us not confuse shouting with leadership. Let us not confuse strength with justice.

Matiang’i is a scam because he presents himself as something he is not: A saviour when he is a symptom. A solution when he is a recycled mistake. A servant of the people when he has served only power.

Let us not fall for the trick. Let us not sell our future for a televised illusion.