It was a funeral service like no other. At the memorial service of former Cabinet minister Dalmas Otieno, grief and laughter mingled in equal measure, sorrow softened into sweet nostalgia, and truth was spoken with candour.
Standing side by side, the two women who loved him most: his wives, Patricia Atieno and Dorothy, held mourners spellbound as they painted a portrait of a man remembered as much for his irresistible charm as for his towering presence in public life.
Patricia, who had walked beside Dalmas for nearly six decades, was the first to speak. She did not stand stiffly behind the lectern. Instead, she commanded the moment, her voice steady but playful, disarming mourners with her candid recollections of what it meant to live with a man admired by many and desired by even more.
Piercing words
“I married Dalmas, a very handsome man. He gave me problems with women. No woman could pass without turning her head to look at him. But I played it cool because I am a born-again Christian. I do not have jealousy,” Patricia told the congregation, sparking ripples of laughter across the packed church.
Her words, light yet piercing, made it clear that she had no intention of editing her story. She went on to recount a marriage that unfolded in ways few could imagine, revealing how she shared not just her husband but her home with his second wife, Dorothy.
“I lived with Dorothy ever since she got married to my husband, for 14 years under one roof. I gave them a room until she got her twins. And she did not move out. She still lives with me,” Patricia revealed, greeted by murmurs of surprise that quickly gave way to applause.
She explained that the decision had been hers, born of love and a refusal to allow secrecy to fracture her marriage.
“So many people challenged me about it. I said, I love my husband and I respect him. I refused. I didn’t want him to park his car in Rongo where Dorothy had a rented house. I told my husband, bring that woman home, we have a big house and I am going to give her a room.”
In that moment, mourners glimpsed a woman who had chosen to embrace, rather than fight, her husband’s choices.
Dorothy, when her turn came, matched Patricia’s honesty with warmth and humour. She spoke with the frankness of a woman still captivated by the man she had met as a teenager.
“I was working with Jaramogi Foundation. I was only 19 years old when I started working. In 2007, during the coalition government’s peace talks, I was talking to Kofi Annan, my friend at the time, when mzee saw me. We used to share a cup of tea with Kofi Annan. One day he asked me, ‘Where do you want to go with this man?’” she recalled, her mischievous smile igniting laughter from mourners.
Best friend
The image of a youthful Dorothy sipping tea with the former UN Secretary-General, only to have her destiny redirected by Dalmas’s commanding presence, delighted the congregation.
Dorothy described how he asked about her background, mentioned that he knew her father, a driver, and eventually persuaded her not to travel to Ghana, where she had planned to relocate.
“That was the end of my story with the Ghanaians,” she said, “and the beginning of my life with Dalmas.”
She admitted to often wondering why Dalmas chose her, confessing that she considered her friend Lavender more suitable. “In all standards, this is the girl my husband should have married. She was very diplomatic, very refined. She was my best friend, actually. But Dalmas chose me,” she said, pointing to her friend Lavender.
Naïve though she had been at the start, Dorothy said Dalmas turned her into “a dynamite.” She spoke with gratitude, calling him both mentor and husband. “Thanking my late husband for the opportunity he showed me and everything he taught me,” she said, her voice breaking into quiet reflection.
Duality
The church fell silent for a while as her words sank in. This was not the bitterness of the other woman who had lived in someone’s shadow. This was a woman who had found her own voice through the man she loved, a woman who could look back and smile.
Patricia, too, shared tender memories, transporting mourners back to August 1965, the year she married Dalmas. Their love story, she said, began at Rapogi secondary, where fate cast them as head prefects: he for the boys, she for the girls.
“That time I was very beautiful. You know, with Luos, a woman with a gap between her teeth is considered the most beautiful woman. When we were leading the students to church, he would allow me to go first and I would wonder, who is this tall, handsome guy?” she reminisced.
Their young love carried the trademark stubbornness of teenage romance. Dalmas, she said, was protective to the point of instructing her friends not to let her talk with other boys. “Whatever I was doing, they were to report to him. But we loved each other so well,” Patricia smiled.
Such anecdotes stripped away Dalmas’s titles and stature, revealing a man in love: possessive, charming, and deeply human.
Yet the requiem mass was also a reminder of the public figure he had been. Born in Kangeso village, Rongo, in 1945, Dalmas was educated at Strathmore School and Makerere University before rising to prominence in politics and business. He chaired Kenya Commercial Bank, entered Parliament in 1988 on a KANU ticket, and went on to serve in key ministries including Industrialisation, Labour and Human Resource Development, and Transport.
He made a comeback in 2007 under the Orange Democratic Movement, joining the Grand Coalition government as Minister of State for Public Service. In that role, he raised the retirement age for civil servants and pushed for efficiency and accountability, often standing for principle even when it cost him politically.
But as Patricia and Dorothy spoke, the man who emerged was not just the politician in suits. He was the husband who inspired fierce loyalty.
Dalmas leaves behind two wives, 14 children, and a legacy woven through both the corridors of power and the intimate spaces of home.