When Steve Ogolla reportedly “returned” to Asego to fetch back the cows he had given as dowry for his estranged wife, Cobbie Koks Nyasego, it transcended a mere domestic issue. Indeed, one is compelled to say that it instead sparked public discourse, ignited a cultural debate, and served as a poignant reminder of how profoundly tradition continues to influence even the most educated individuals among us.
For numerous Kenyans, dowry is far from a simple formality. It is a serious exchange — a mark of respect towards the bride’s family and an acknowledgment that marriage encompasses not just two people, but two families. In earlier times, if a marriage dissolved, the return of dowry symbolized closure and reinstated equilibrium between families. It was not an act of vengeance, but instead, it was a restoration of order.
However, in today’s world, circumstances have evolved. The notion of reclaiming cows following a breakup resonates differently in a digital era where your internal infightings can swiftly become public spectacle.
What was hitherto discreetly managed by elders, is now scrutinized by strangers on social media. Memes have supplanted advice, and moral indignation has metamorphosed into entertainment.
Ogolla’s self-induced predicaments illustrates a conflict between two realms: contemporary law and ancestral tradition. As a lawyer, one expects the young man to be well-grounded in the formalities of rights and obligations. Yet, as a product of tradition, he is also aware of cultural expectations when a marriage falters. But when these two realms intersect — when modern relationships confront ancient customs — the results are seldom neat.
It’s easyly to overlook that dowry, fundamentally, was intended to honor, not to constrain. It symbolized gratitude, not possession. Yet in the context of modern society, it can sometimes adopt the tone of retribution. To some, these actions appear as a man asserting his rights. To others, it seems like a display of bruised pride. Regardless, it highlights the increasing ambiguity surrounding the true significance of dowry in the 21st century.
The gendered dimension is also inescapable. In numerous African cultures, women frequently bear the greater emotional and social weight when marriages dissolve. A man who retrieves dowry is perceived as regaining his honor; conversely, a woman whose family returns it is viewed as forfeiting hers. This disparity continues to cast a shadow over our cultural traditions, even as we profess to evolve.
What Ogolla’s narrative truly compels us to do is face unsettling realities. Is dowry still a token of esteem, or has it morphed into a sign of ownership? Does its restitution mend wounds or exacerbate them? And when love crumbles, can tradition still offer closure in a society that no longer adheres to its tenets?
The cattle in this tale represent more than mere animals. They embody memory, pride, and sorrow. They serve as a reminder of how love, law, and culture remain intertwined in contemporary Kenya — illustrating how even the most educated and progressive individuals can still find themselves ensnared by traditional customs.
Perhaps this narrative extends beyond Steve Ogolla and Cebbie Nyasego. It encompasses all of us — a community caught in the crossfire of heritage and modernity, pride and humility, love and law. Until we achieve a balance between these elements, even the most knowledgeable among us will continue to grapple with the same heart-wrenching question: when love fades, what can truly be reclaimed?
