The president is gaslighting me. Let me take that again. The president is breadcrumbing me. Na si fiti. President thinks we are in a talking stage na sisi tushaingia box . He rizzed us with promises and I fell—hard. Atende sasa. I am in my most productive years so this thing, this situationship, lazima iwork. Yaani this is what it feels like to date a Kenyan man? Ngai. But me what do I know about relationships? All I have heard is that they are a lot of work. And this is definitely not working. Hatutaishi hivi by the way.
I am a Kenyan man too if you must know. I, too, stand accused of the same crime of overpromising. I remember when I told someone’s daughter that she was the most beautiful girl in the world. It wasn’t a lie but it wasn’t exactly the truth. Lip service tu. Storybook romance, Tom and Njeri. I also promised to give her the world, but you guys mmekatalia hapa. You are the reason I remain unmarried. By the way, mnaboo.
I’ve learned a new word recently and that means you have learned a new word recently. Tergiversation. Yaani ma promises kibao. Story mob. Kizungu mingi. Jaba. That is the antecedent of Kenyanism. Everyone is flirting with the truth. The difference between Kenya on LinkedIn and Kenya kwa ground.
Tergiversations. I was on a date in these new chic “aesthetic” restaurants that keep popping up in the city—mnatoa wapi pesa?—and this chic, let’s call her Zia because that’s her real name, said she had “manifested” me. I laughed until I snorted before I realised me and her couldn’t date because she was funnier, and humour is what I bring to the (metallic) table (I am against deforestation—carbon credits, carbon offsetting, “sustainability” koso koso).
Hii haingework. Well, other than the fact that she also said she doesn’t chase, she attracts (ha!). I told her that’s true, because she was quite attractive, then I chased her away. True story.
Zia wanted to know what I look for in a woman. And I said “woman”. My standards are achievable so let no one feel left out, unless you are a man, or a woman who identifies as a man. I usually have only two first date questions which I shall encourage all the men here to borrow.
The first is, “Uko na mtoto?” You see, cases abound of women who gave birth and hid the babies back in the village. You can’t tell because gym trainers, wait, “personal” gym trainers are working harder than the economy, shaping lives—and nyash. You can’t take anything at face value. Prima facie. Not in this economy. Things are not always what they seem.
Anyway, if she says yes, niko na ka-junior then we discuss how this will—or won’t—work. If she says no, you proceed to the most important question ever asked by a man: “Uko na Watoto?” Hold on, let me cook. You see, technically, angesema hana mtoto she would have been right because perhaps ako na watoto.
Tergiversations bro. And they say romance is dead. No need to thank me. I wouldn’t call myself a hero but I would understand if you do.
The point I am trying to make with many tergiversations is that things are not what they seem. On Sunday after a particularly razing sermon by Pastor Ted, we left church with Paul (not the Apostle) to go and see a friend of ours who had suddenly been taken ill.
I suggested we buy flowers—me I love flowers—because girls love flowers. On the drive there, I handed Paul the flowers and he protested like we were in a maandamano, I didn’t get it (like the government) and we almost landed in a fistfight (which I would have won). His problem was the optics of it—two guys in a car, stuck on Waiyaki Way’s kamikaze traffic, one guy in dreadlocks, the other holding sprightly flowers, not talking to each other, pouting…dear me, now that I have typed it, I see what he means. Things are not what they seem!
I bring this to your attention because this was World Aids Week. The statistics are damning: more than half (73 percent) of the new infections occur between the ages of 18 to 34.
More men, continued the affidavit from the National Syndemic Diseases Control Council, die from Aids-related illnesses despite more women being the ones infected. The report said it’s because more men elect to live a sedentary lifestyle.
The answer was not satisfying. It did not satisfy me. I live in a glasshouse so I’ll be careful with how hard I throw this stone, but I think our biggest problem as men is our casual approach to things, to life. Kupima na macho. The ‘this one doesn’t look like she has it.’ The ‘Nani is loyal, namjua.’
We are still a highly stigmatising society but I recently heard a joke the other day but msinijudge because it can fall either way: pesa ni kama ukimwi, kila mtu anasema hana.
It’s funny when you are on the other side, but sometimes it becomes reality, the soundtrack to your life, the lyrics that ask you questions about freedom whose answers you may not like. Things are not what they seem so we need to ask, to enquire, to probe.
The real body count is the number of women (or men, hey I don’t know what you are into) you have been able to say no to. Life is one big party when you are still young, sung Shaggy but as you get older you become more cynical. At least, I know I am.
I believe humanity is preternaturally selfish—we resort to our basest instincts and what could be more rudimentary than survival? I operate under the moxie that what you do not know, people do not tell you, and what people do not tell you, you do not know. Which leads me to this: the men who have been able to exorcise the demon lurking in your pants, and tut-tutted at the perils of what the Good Book calls lust of the flesh, how did you do it? Tell me. Email me. Mnishow.
The men in my life hold me to a higher standard and that means I shall hold you to a higher standard. That also means we cannot live our life like the way our country is run—no plan, no strategy, just vibes and Inshallah and a meek, Wah, saa tutado?
Tutado vitu mob, which includes being responsible, especially this sherehe month and showing up fully to our lives—we are the starrings, the oteros, sisi ndio Van Damme, Commando, Rambo. We shall keep the promises we made to ourselves, that the boy we once were will be proud of the man we now are. Hakuna otherwise, by the way. Lazima iwork.
