An ugly woman can walk around a neighbourhood and hardly attract men's interest. However, a pretty woman, even if all covered up, will make men sprain their necks as they look over their shoulders when she swaggers by.
And you can bet that such a woman will be accosted by wayward men who don’t have a clue how to approach a woman.
Here are some of the dumb pick up lines she is likely to hear.
. Safaricom announced that today is ‘exchange the number’ day; please give me your number.
. I dreamt about you last night, please make my dream come true and come to my house.
. Your daddy must have been a terrorist, ’cause your body is the bomb.
. The only smile I have seen today is a smile from my toothless grandmother; please smile to remind me how a real smile looks like.
. Your shadow is complaining. A fine lady like you doesn’t deserve to walk alone, let me give you company.
. Just shake my hand and extend my life by a day.
. Girl, you have set me on fire, kiss me and cool me down.
. Some women were born and others came from heaven, and you are one of them. Ask me how I know.
. I don’t know what you are looking for in this neighbourhood, but whatever it is you have found it. Here I am.
. You are a goddess; I just wanna get on my knees and start pleasing you.
. You got me speaking a foreign language but when we will go home, I will take you to a foreign country.
Your finger needs a wedding ring, come to my house ‘cause I got one that belonged to my great grandmother.
Girl, you are hot, let me take you to my bed and you warm it.
I got a dishwasher and a cook; the only thing missing is a missus.
The Bible says, ‘Ask and you shall receive’. Will you give me what mama gave you?
If you were to give me a chance, you won’t keep changing your last name.
Saturday 31 December 2011
THE REAL AFRICAN MEN
Recently, a Ugandan junior elder, also one of the region’s more cerebral journalists, published an article outlining 13 items that he believed define an East African man. I am still shocked that a man of his stature missed the mark so widely.
His list included an overcoat, a wallet, Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, a white shirt, and sandals. Amazingly, he forgot the two things that an African man must have — a potbelly and a wife.
That is what happens when an elder attempts to whisper wisdom before fortifying his faculties with snuff and local brew.
In these parts, if you do not have a woman in the house, you are nothing. Don’t tell us about your three degrees from the University of London. If you don’t have a wife, shut up and get lost.
Yes, get a wife. Many wives are better. And kindly install a mistress in the lodgings behind the local bar, too.
But to get married around here, you must have access to something else that defines an African man: Livestock. If you don’t own a cow, your virility is zero. Museveni’s shamba boy owns one and so does the president. You get my drift?
Multiply
But assuming you own livestock and consequently put a woman in the house, it follows that she must multiply rapidly. Thus, you cannot purport to be a man when you have two tiny children. The more the merrier. It also enhances your maleness considerably if they are scattered across several mothers, clans, tribes, counties, races and countries.
Children are, however, tricky because they feed like termites. That’s why a true African man must own a piece of land. He can grab it, buy it, steal it — we don’t really care for the details, but he must own land and a burial spot. The more pieces of land he owns, even if they were hived off public toilets, the better.
Black suit
Incredibly, while the junior Ugandan elder, also a senior journalist, mentioned an overcoat and a white shirt as a must-have, he forgot a suit. Beats me how he intends to visit his father-in-law wearing nothing but an overcoat and sandals. My brother, even if your in-law lives in hot Mombasa, get there in a black suit.
Maddeningly, the journalist also mentioned a Swiss knife. Lord, how would any serious man defend his cow from cattle rustlers with a Swiss knife?
Somali sword
A man must have an arsenal beneath his bed, anything from nyahunyo (rubber whip), bows and arrows, Somali swords, knobkerries and, if he’s a total man, an AK47 rifle. Dogs are also vital. I’m sure you have seen men carrying leftover bones from dingy bars into their Rangerovers.
Finally, a true African owns a bungalow in the village in which rats live like kings while he lives like a rat in a rented hovel in the city.
For reading, he owns a Bible, which he never reads, and a gutter press newspaper, which he studies like the Bible.
Welcome to Africa!
His list included an overcoat, a wallet, Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, a white shirt, and sandals. Amazingly, he forgot the two things that an African man must have — a potbelly and a wife.
That is what happens when an elder attempts to whisper wisdom before fortifying his faculties with snuff and local brew.
In these parts, if you do not have a woman in the house, you are nothing. Don’t tell us about your three degrees from the University of London. If you don’t have a wife, shut up and get lost.
Yes, get a wife. Many wives are better. And kindly install a mistress in the lodgings behind the local bar, too.
But to get married around here, you must have access to something else that defines an African man: Livestock. If you don’t own a cow, your virility is zero. Museveni’s shamba boy owns one and so does the president. You get my drift?
Multiply
But assuming you own livestock and consequently put a woman in the house, it follows that she must multiply rapidly. Thus, you cannot purport to be a man when you have two tiny children. The more the merrier. It also enhances your maleness considerably if they are scattered across several mothers, clans, tribes, counties, races and countries.
Children are, however, tricky because they feed like termites. That’s why a true African man must own a piece of land. He can grab it, buy it, steal it — we don’t really care for the details, but he must own land and a burial spot. The more pieces of land he owns, even if they were hived off public toilets, the better.
Black suit
Incredibly, while the junior Ugandan elder, also a senior journalist, mentioned an overcoat and a white shirt as a must-have, he forgot a suit. Beats me how he intends to visit his father-in-law wearing nothing but an overcoat and sandals. My brother, even if your in-law lives in hot Mombasa, get there in a black suit.
Maddeningly, the journalist also mentioned a Swiss knife. Lord, how would any serious man defend his cow from cattle rustlers with a Swiss knife?
Somali sword
A man must have an arsenal beneath his bed, anything from nyahunyo (rubber whip), bows and arrows, Somali swords, knobkerries and, if he’s a total man, an AK47 rifle. Dogs are also vital. I’m sure you have seen men carrying leftover bones from dingy bars into their Rangerovers.
Finally, a true African owns a bungalow in the village in which rats live like kings while he lives like a rat in a rented hovel in the city.
For reading, he owns a Bible, which he never reads, and a gutter press newspaper, which he studies like the Bible.
Welcome to Africa!
CRAZY STOROS 1
If you think scandal and drama only happen in remote villages and in Eastlands, you are mistaken. The dung also hits the fan in Kileleshwa and Lavington, too.
It is just that these loaded folks know how to keep their dirty linen firmly in the laundry basket, unlike the rest of us who wash and air it in the open.
Thanks to the gated homes that guarantee the owners maximum security and privacy, drama in the suburbs is high-tech but ultra secret, unless you are a watchmen or house girl in the know.
I am a full-blown Eastlander so you are wondering how I got wind of this juicy soap opera. I have a friend who is a "squatter" among the high and mighty. She lives in a pint-sized Sh15,000 servant quarters in Kileleshwa instead of putting up in filth and murk in a two-bedroomed house in Eastlands.
Verbal disputes
So it happens my friend’s landlord, who happens to live in the main house, recently busted her husband with his gay lover in their marital bed.
What really happened is the couple has been together for less than a year, but their matrimony has been far from holy going by the number of verbal disputes sorted out on the balcony of their expansive bedroom.
The marriage was not as blissful as the wedding, which is said to have cost a tidy sum and was as lavish as they come. But that is not surprising because, as they say, the more posh the wedding, the shorter it lasts.
Mr Okinyi was a businessman while Mrs Okinyi was a top honcho in a blue chip company, so she was always working late. The hubby, who operated from home, had a suspiciously flexible work schedule and a close confidant and business partner.
It seems this relationship went beyond business as the truth was the two were actually lovers.
Watchman
So one day, the wife came back home unusually early. My friend also happened to be around as she was on leave.
The watchman, being the man’s ally, tried to signal him that things were getting elephant, but Okinyi’s phone was off. As the woman made her way upstairs to freshen up, the watchman tried to distract her attention using flimsy excuses.
"Madam usiende juu, mzee ako busy sana na kazi. Alisema asisumbuliwe (Madam please your husband is working on a serious project and he said nobody should disturb him)," pleaded the watchman.
But Mrs Okinyi, a no-nonsense woman who calls the shots at work, pushed the watchman aside and made her way to the bedroom.
The door was ajar. What she saw made her regret the day she said ‘I do’. She left in a huff only to come after a few weeks to collect her stuff. Later on, she filed for divorce and the matter is still pending in the family court.
It is just that these loaded folks know how to keep their dirty linen firmly in the laundry basket, unlike the rest of us who wash and air it in the open.
Thanks to the gated homes that guarantee the owners maximum security and privacy, drama in the suburbs is high-tech but ultra secret, unless you are a watchmen or house girl in the know.
I am a full-blown Eastlander so you are wondering how I got wind of this juicy soap opera. I have a friend who is a "squatter" among the high and mighty. She lives in a pint-sized Sh15,000 servant quarters in Kileleshwa instead of putting up in filth and murk in a two-bedroomed house in Eastlands.
Verbal disputes
So it happens my friend’s landlord, who happens to live in the main house, recently busted her husband with his gay lover in their marital bed.
What really happened is the couple has been together for less than a year, but their matrimony has been far from holy going by the number of verbal disputes sorted out on the balcony of their expansive bedroom.
The marriage was not as blissful as the wedding, which is said to have cost a tidy sum and was as lavish as they come. But that is not surprising because, as they say, the more posh the wedding, the shorter it lasts.
Mr Okinyi was a businessman while Mrs Okinyi was a top honcho in a blue chip company, so she was always working late. The hubby, who operated from home, had a suspiciously flexible work schedule and a close confidant and business partner.
It seems this relationship went beyond business as the truth was the two were actually lovers.
Watchman
So one day, the wife came back home unusually early. My friend also happened to be around as she was on leave.
The watchman, being the man’s ally, tried to signal him that things were getting elephant, but Okinyi’s phone was off. As the woman made her way upstairs to freshen up, the watchman tried to distract her attention using flimsy excuses.
"Madam usiende juu, mzee ako busy sana na kazi. Alisema asisumbuliwe (Madam please your husband is working on a serious project and he said nobody should disturb him)," pleaded the watchman.
But Mrs Okinyi, a no-nonsense woman who calls the shots at work, pushed the watchman aside and made her way to the bedroom.
The door was ajar. What she saw made her regret the day she said ‘I do’. She left in a huff only to come after a few weeks to collect her stuff. Later on, she filed for divorce and the matter is still pending in the family court.
RISE AND FALL OF THE AFRICAN MEN
Folklore has the story of a long-suffering husband whose sly wife constantly beat him up in the cover of darkness while screaming, "Don’t kill me!"
His brothers never came to his aid because they assumed he was the one meting out manly ‘discipline’. Meanwhile, she retained the picture of victim to the sympathetic outside world while remaining in firm control of the goings-on in her home. The man could not come out in the open and express his tribulations. No one would believe him anyway.
Such is the agony that plagues many Kenyan men. As women push for affirmative action and the application of the two-thirds gender rule in all the public spheres of life, the reality is that many married men have long lost the battle on the home front.
Anyona, who has been married for a year, is one such tormented man. He is perturbed by his wife’s abrupt change in behaviour. When the two moved in together before they walked down the aisle, Silivia Atenya, Anyona’s wife, would insist on doing every house chore. She never wanted his help.
Duty roster
So one would understand his shock when he went to the fridge recently to get his preferred cold drink only to find a duty roster pinned on the door. At first, he thought it was a joke and dismissed it off-hand. He looked at it closely, went to fetch his spectacles and removed the printed duty roster from the fridge for a closer look. He couldn’t believe his eyes.
What bothered Anyona was he was never consulted. Besides, they were only the two of them in the house since they had no children. He decided to call his wife’s bluff. This, after all, was the festive season and people were in fun-poking mood, he thought. He was wrong.
"How do you expect me to come home tired from work, cook for you, wash the dirty utensils, mop the house, then go to bed tired and wake up to prepare breakfast and arrange your clothes, yet you only come home to re-read your newspapers?" scoffed his not-so-amused wife when he waved the offensive document in her face.
Anyona was so mad that he walked out to drown his fury in a few bottles of beer. It is while at the bar that the coup back home played itself out in his mind in excruciating detail, bit by bit as he sipped his favourite lager. He had long lost control and was living at the mercy of Silivia. Then it hit him that of late, his conjugal rights were rationed, on her terms.
If she wasn’t too tired, she had a severe headache. If she didn’t have a headache, she was on her periods, even when he was sure she wasn’t.
But that had never been the case before they got married. Then she never complained. In fact, whenever he offered to help with the chores, she would lovingly hug and ask him to rest.
Woman of the house
"I know you are tired, darling. Just rest and watch news. I can handle this!" she would say, adding that as the ‘woman of the house’ it was her duty to oversee such ‘small’ chores. And now, of all things, a duty roster?
Anyona is in good company. Yet for all their beef about coming from work tired, many men are saddled with wives who never spend a penny of their salary, not even on their medication. Such are the wives who send children to collect money from their fathers for the smallest of things. "Ask your father to give you Sh20," is a common statement in many households. Just where do these women take their money?
When you ask around, women say times have changed and they no longer live in the Stone Age where they were looked upon as cheap labour for men. They are first of all wives, not househelps, and that they deserve to be treated as such.
In the kind of doublespeak that would dumbfound a politician, the modern Kenyan woman — even as she swirls empowerment, equality, equal opportunity and all other high-sounding vowels on her tongue like fine wine — will remain firm about one thing: it is the unconditional duty of the man to provide food, clothing and shelter.
Apparently, the wedding vow of ‘two shall become one’ only applies to his wallet and never her designer handbag.
No matter the situation, wives will leave all the bills to the man, even in these harsh economic times, as Joash Oyoo attests.
"When I lost my job, I had to borrow loans from close friends to settle the house rent and pay all the house bills even though my wife still had her job. She would come back empty handed from work and demand for food," says Oyoo.
Independent woman
The ‘man is the head of the family’ phrase is often used by the self-same independent modern women only when it comes to financial obligations like school fees, her salon bills, the mortgage, buying her car, fuelling it and servicing it.
"His money is my money, but my money can never be ours. Why then would I need a man when I’m going to continue supporting myself?" wonders Fridah, a non-remorseful executive secretary who earns a six-digit salary.
To her, her husband’s money is basically her money and she has the right over it. She needs to know how he spends every penny but there is no way her husband is going to control her purse.
"No self-respecting man does that," she adds, unwittingly oblivious of the irony of her statement
Fridah says she walks home empty handed because her husband, as the head of the family, must provide for the family. When asked who pays the rent, she quickly says, "Of course him. That is his duty. He must provide food, shelter and clothing as the head of the family."
The paradox, however, is that while the man is expected to ‘man up’ to his traditional role as head of the house, today’s woman will deem it demeaning to expect her to do those menial tasks that her grandmother gladly undertook. Like to know where his shirt, washed by the house help whom he pays but can’t instruct, is.
Aunts
But across the border, the equally modern Ugandan woman is apparently taught by her aunts how to make her man happy and loving throughout the marriage, much the same way her mothers and grandmothers were taught.
"I cannot let my man come home and start doing house chores. That’s my duty," gloated one 20-something-year-old Ugandan woman who works for a local communications firm.
Instead of combat, ultimatums and duty rosters, these women are famously submissive and will do anything to keep the love flowing, which effectively charms the man into opening his wallet.
That must be Stone Age news from this ‘developed’ side of the border where the woman of the house will come home decidedly tired, put up her feet, grab the TV remote and flip to her favourite soap opera.
Skirmish
In many such households, a man cannot lend his best friend Sh1,000 without consulting his wife. So picture the skirmish that would ensure if he sold ‘his’ car and bought another without seeking her views.
Other men are so emasculated that every movement they make is tracked via mobile phone and they practically shiver if 9pm finds them away from home.
No one opens the door for them, and in worst-case scenarios, they sleep in the cold when they come late. Yes, the golden era when the African man bestrode his homestead like a colossus is dead and buried.
Instead, spineless fellows who fearfully refer to their wives as ‘madam’ have replaced the tough men of old. And the worst, as they say, is yet to come.
His brothers never came to his aid because they assumed he was the one meting out manly ‘discipline’. Meanwhile, she retained the picture of victim to the sympathetic outside world while remaining in firm control of the goings-on in her home. The man could not come out in the open and express his tribulations. No one would believe him anyway.
Such is the agony that plagues many Kenyan men. As women push for affirmative action and the application of the two-thirds gender rule in all the public spheres of life, the reality is that many married men have long lost the battle on the home front.
Anyona, who has been married for a year, is one such tormented man. He is perturbed by his wife’s abrupt change in behaviour. When the two moved in together before they walked down the aisle, Silivia Atenya, Anyona’s wife, would insist on doing every house chore. She never wanted his help.
Duty roster
So one would understand his shock when he went to the fridge recently to get his preferred cold drink only to find a duty roster pinned on the door. At first, he thought it was a joke and dismissed it off-hand. He looked at it closely, went to fetch his spectacles and removed the printed duty roster from the fridge for a closer look. He couldn’t believe his eyes.
What bothered Anyona was he was never consulted. Besides, they were only the two of them in the house since they had no children. He decided to call his wife’s bluff. This, after all, was the festive season and people were in fun-poking mood, he thought. He was wrong.
"How do you expect me to come home tired from work, cook for you, wash the dirty utensils, mop the house, then go to bed tired and wake up to prepare breakfast and arrange your clothes, yet you only come home to re-read your newspapers?" scoffed his not-so-amused wife when he waved the offensive document in her face.
Anyona was so mad that he walked out to drown his fury in a few bottles of beer. It is while at the bar that the coup back home played itself out in his mind in excruciating detail, bit by bit as he sipped his favourite lager. He had long lost control and was living at the mercy of Silivia. Then it hit him that of late, his conjugal rights were rationed, on her terms.
If she wasn’t too tired, she had a severe headache. If she didn’t have a headache, she was on her periods, even when he was sure she wasn’t.
But that had never been the case before they got married. Then she never complained. In fact, whenever he offered to help with the chores, she would lovingly hug and ask him to rest.
Woman of the house
"I know you are tired, darling. Just rest and watch news. I can handle this!" she would say, adding that as the ‘woman of the house’ it was her duty to oversee such ‘small’ chores. And now, of all things, a duty roster?
Anyona is in good company. Yet for all their beef about coming from work tired, many men are saddled with wives who never spend a penny of their salary, not even on their medication. Such are the wives who send children to collect money from their fathers for the smallest of things. "Ask your father to give you Sh20," is a common statement in many households. Just where do these women take their money?
When you ask around, women say times have changed and they no longer live in the Stone Age where they were looked upon as cheap labour for men. They are first of all wives, not househelps, and that they deserve to be treated as such.
In the kind of doublespeak that would dumbfound a politician, the modern Kenyan woman — even as she swirls empowerment, equality, equal opportunity and all other high-sounding vowels on her tongue like fine wine — will remain firm about one thing: it is the unconditional duty of the man to provide food, clothing and shelter.
Apparently, the wedding vow of ‘two shall become one’ only applies to his wallet and never her designer handbag.
No matter the situation, wives will leave all the bills to the man, even in these harsh economic times, as Joash Oyoo attests.
"When I lost my job, I had to borrow loans from close friends to settle the house rent and pay all the house bills even though my wife still had her job. She would come back empty handed from work and demand for food," says Oyoo.
Independent woman
The ‘man is the head of the family’ phrase is often used by the self-same independent modern women only when it comes to financial obligations like school fees, her salon bills, the mortgage, buying her car, fuelling it and servicing it.
"His money is my money, but my money can never be ours. Why then would I need a man when I’m going to continue supporting myself?" wonders Fridah, a non-remorseful executive secretary who earns a six-digit salary.
To her, her husband’s money is basically her money and she has the right over it. She needs to know how he spends every penny but there is no way her husband is going to control her purse.
"No self-respecting man does that," she adds, unwittingly oblivious of the irony of her statement
Fridah says she walks home empty handed because her husband, as the head of the family, must provide for the family. When asked who pays the rent, she quickly says, "Of course him. That is his duty. He must provide food, shelter and clothing as the head of the family."
The paradox, however, is that while the man is expected to ‘man up’ to his traditional role as head of the house, today’s woman will deem it demeaning to expect her to do those menial tasks that her grandmother gladly undertook. Like to know where his shirt, washed by the house help whom he pays but can’t instruct, is.
Aunts
But across the border, the equally modern Ugandan woman is apparently taught by her aunts how to make her man happy and loving throughout the marriage, much the same way her mothers and grandmothers were taught.
"I cannot let my man come home and start doing house chores. That’s my duty," gloated one 20-something-year-old Ugandan woman who works for a local communications firm.
Instead of combat, ultimatums and duty rosters, these women are famously submissive and will do anything to keep the love flowing, which effectively charms the man into opening his wallet.
That must be Stone Age news from this ‘developed’ side of the border where the woman of the house will come home decidedly tired, put up her feet, grab the TV remote and flip to her favourite soap opera.
Skirmish
In many such households, a man cannot lend his best friend Sh1,000 without consulting his wife. So picture the skirmish that would ensure if he sold ‘his’ car and bought another without seeking her views.
Other men are so emasculated that every movement they make is tracked via mobile phone and they practically shiver if 9pm finds them away from home.
No one opens the door for them, and in worst-case scenarios, they sleep in the cold when they come late. Yes, the golden era when the African man bestrode his homestead like a colossus is dead and buried.
Instead, spineless fellows who fearfully refer to their wives as ‘madam’ have replaced the tough men of old. And the worst, as they say, is yet to come.
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