We spend a great deal of time talking about how, when and why women should get married. We talk about dating, beauty, femininity, fertility, compromise, being a “good woman” and finding a man who is ready to settle down. We rarely spend the same amount of time asking what a woman is expected to surrender once she has acquired the title she was encouraged to desire.

Many African marriages today are being negotiated by people who inhabit two different worlds simultaneously. Many of the women in that room were solid professionals. They earned incomes, managed households, raised children and contributed financially to their families. They participate in public life in ways that were unavailable to many of their mothers and grandmothers. Yet the moral framework presented to them still assumed that authority naturally rested with their husbands, that female submission is virtuous and questioning that arrangement is evidence of rebellion rather than reflection.

“Masikonde may be changing his mind. I don’t want him to change his mind,” She added quickly, like a caveat to show she had nothing to do with it. And she spoke in length. About his sudden change of attitude, and mood. Their conversation last night. “I did not know who else to talk to, so I came here.”

By the time she reached him, she was weeping loudly. She fell on his chest, only stopping when Saitoti started crying loudly. “Sorry... Sorry. I just feel so bad because I have not come to see you for so long. I am sorry...” She ran her newly soft fingers across his face and noticed his eyes straining to focus on them. She pulled them away and folded her palms into fists.

The problem is not that young people have forgotten. It is that too few of us have been taught what came before. History and Government is treated as an elective in our schools, even though understanding a nation's past is as essential to citizenship as reading or writing. A society that leaves its history to choice should not be surprised when collective memory begins to fade.

For the two hours Terian spent in the ward, Moraa paced up and down the reception area as she talked to herself. She still could not come up with a plausible explanation as to why Terian had been put under her care. Who was she? Surely she could not be of romantic interest to her boss? She, more than anyone, knew Masikonde and his taste of women.