Solomon's Burden

Solomon was David’s son. Who else, if you ask me? Because in the matter concerning women he out-did his father many times over, setting a record that no man in the eternal past or future will ever get close to. He was heir to the throne and ascended it with stupendous pomp.

He had seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines! You call yourself a man? Then try to beat that record. But be careful. I know a Nigerian man who pursued this record with equanimity. He died at twenty seven—not twenty seven years; twenty seven wives! His name was Fela Anikulapo Kuti. Obviously he needed lessons from Solomon, but Solomon himself had died in this onerous pursuit. His matrimonial record is suicidal for any man to pursue.

Hear what I once read: “The man listed in the Guinness Book of Records as being married the most times—twenty-nine—has died at the age of eighty-eight. He died of heart disease.” The statement that he died of heart disease is disingenuous. What else could he have died of?

It is hard enough giving your heart to one woman. To give it to twenty-nine of them is to literally take your own heart and break it into twenty-nine pieces! In any case, the Guinness Book of Records needs to visit the Bible to update itself. Solomon’s heart was so large he could cut it into a thousand pieces!

I doff my hat, shoes, and clothes for this man. I will strip myself for him. I find managing one woman hard enough. I should lie my body down for him to walk on who can manage a thousand!

It was not entirely Solomon’s fault, though. On his death bed, David, his father, had instructed him rather uncharitably at 1 kings 2:2, “I am about to go the way of all the earth. So be strong, show yourself a man.” So what did you expect of Solomon? Show himself a man, of course!

Never mind the cacophonous rhetoric of women and children that assailed him daily, or the too many unknown in-laws who streamed into and out of his palace, each with their own selfish agenda, or the wives and children whose names he didn’t know. His stupendous wealth and amorous appetite drew all manner of people to him.

Because of their sheer number, my fertile imagination tells me he shared his wives with anyone courageous enough to show any passing interest in them. This had to be the only way to retain their services—let them have their way with other men.

Like Fela after him, Solomon might have died HIV positive, but there is no such intimate record in the Bible. He simply died, we are told; and why not? Who can survive such a deluge of women? Some men appear to have a destiny of dying in the hands of women. Solomon was one of them. Samson was another, as was Fela. I wonder who else is, among the men reading this.

Because of his wanton sexual appetite, the nation, unfortunately, became saddled with too many queens. Therefore it was difficult to provide a conventional palace for the king. What passed for a palace was a glorified spider’s web into which much money had been sunk—a vast harem of sorts. Anyone could get lost in it. Solomon himself navigated his palace and visited his women with the aid of satellite technology. He was a discoverer in his own house. Even Christopher Columbus would have got lost in Solomon’s palace.

He hired a palace chargé d’affaires called Ahishar, who I suspect must have had being a eunuch his sole qualification for the job, because by his position he was also the harem manager. It was a well-paying job to compensate for his voluntary impotency. I imagine he augmented his already fat salary with bribes from the queens for a night with the king. He was a famous scheduler for the king’s bed, and wielded a lot of influence.

Mundane domestic events in Solomon's house qualified for places in the Guinness Book of Records. Indeed, from his famed wisdom to his handling of domestic matters, Solomon was a multiple breaker of known records.

For example, his family photograph was quite outlandish. He needed an entire wing of the city wall to display it. He held private family meetings in a purpose-built warehouse. And because he needed a public address system at those meetings, there were really no family secrets.

Morning devotions were a spectacle. He harped on the same prayer and exhortation daily—unity in the family—which went constantly unanswered, because the prayer points of the women and children were sometimes opposite and very difficult to unravel. They confused God!

He had been trying to avoid a day like it, but when Solomon hit a milestone age his women insisted his birthday will be celebrated. He couldn't continue to shy away from a family party. It was a rare unanimous decision by the women. It turned out to be a very bad day for him. The thing he feared most happened to him. Nothing went well.

Thinking to flatter his women for their gesture, he chose the wrong lyrics from his famous book of songs at Songs of Solomon 4:5 when he blurted, "Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins, which feed among the lilies." The women nearly mobbed him out of mutual jealousy. They didn't know who owned those breasts and each wanted to be the one. The man just wasn't thinking!

He was to do even worse. In his vote of thanks, he tortured himself to mention family names. Who asked him to? He could hardly call twenty of his wives by name, the reason he had previously decreed that wives and family members who appeared before him should wear name tags. No one wore them. The law was universally defied by family members to punish him for his romantic indiscretions.

Moreover, he did not recognise the youth who proposed the toast, and who kept referring to him as “my father.” Impostors fed fat off him.

Cutting the birthday cake was a nightmare altogether. Because every woman wanted her hand on the knife with Solomon, a forty-foot golden knife was specially ordered for the occasion from Ophir. The cake itself was so massive, standing behind it, he could no longer see the audience. This was aggravated by the sheer number of bodies that lined up to his left and right. The women had jostled for vantage positions on both sides of this unwieldy knife and lined its entire length. Still, there wasn’t room for everyone.

The voice of the cake designer pitched helplessly and could be heard over the expansive public address system, but she herself could not be seen. She was completely lost in the mammoth crowd of invitees and family members. By the time she finished spelling J-E-S-U-S and it managed to get cut, the sky-scraping cake was completely ruined by the many hands that cut it.

The event, relayed over national television, caused quite a stir as it was seen by many as a national disgrace. The king became a lucrative character for lampooning by the nation’s comedians. Many wondered why Solomon could not deploy his legendary wisdom to manage his birthday party. But you know how it is with women—they like to secretly plan their husband’s birthday party and take them by surprise. In this instance, it was the entire nation that was jolted. Solomon was left in total shock. He had no idea what was coming.

It was a day made bad in totality. Solomon could not dance at his birthday party. No compromise could be reached on the woman to take the floor with him. It was a thoughtless omission by the event planner. Besides, he had lost the dancing grace of his father long ago. The women constantly drained him of all physical strength. Every night his manhood came against a gruesome test. O, Solomon detested bedtimes! His constant dilemma was to prove night after night that he was a real man, beyond being a king. To be fair, he did give this challenge a real try, but what transpired each night is best left to your own imagination.

(Get the full version of Solomon's Burden from my book, Laughing Over Serious Matters available at https://www.chrisekpekurede.com or simply get in touch)