Everyone is seeking a ‘mumama’ and ‘mubaba’. Should I join in?

It’s end-month and that’s a euphemism for: The Mubaba Olympics is nigh. The scramble for wamama is upon us. I blame the economy. Scratch that. I blame the demand. Which is connected to the economy. You know what? I blame you.

At the risk of sounding self-righteous, I know you, as a man, are thinking about getting a mumama too. Allegedly. Have you seen the price of unga? Ugali has now gone back to its original owners: the rich. But the wababas and wamamas have thus wisened up. Seasoned philanderers are now cooling their legs (hehe?) with one or two kababas.

Never would an idea such as this have crossed my mind. But what is it the ancestors said? Mtu hujikuna ajipatapo. I am not even going to pretend that I do not know how my words sound. I mean, come on, you are here expecting to read how you can be a better man or how you can better your man or both?

But take it from me: necessity is the mother of invention and while I will not take the props for this one, I do get it when someone confesses that they are being kept in Ruaka. Or Rumuruti. Or (God-forbid) Ruai. Wallahi.

It’s like the old Italian saying: there are no hairs on my tongue. The idea of “making it” floats in the air like how everything else other than air floats in the air — and I need to avoid it. Should we move with the times or retain these Spartan maxims of the past? Older people will always rail against the young and the slow transformation of a world they’re only just coming to understand. It was ever thus.

Poverty

Men, at best, are at a disadvantage. Not that we want it easy, but we want it eased up. There is the notion that we should glorify suffering and poverty. Why? You can work hard and smart. You can have both. So often than not, I have noticed we make life an either-or situation. But it’s never black and white. Much less in this post-no-ugali-sosa-world. You have to do what it takes to survive. But choices come with consequences, and responsibility is freedom’s surname.

It’s a classic trilemma. Romance, loyalty and commitment are dead. Too bad I missed the funeral.

Would I get a mumama? Probably...not. Would I encourage one to get a mumama? Speculation, ma’lawd. Have I thought about getting a mumama? There is no way to answer this question without self-incrimination. Ergo, my lord, I plead the fifth.

But, I understand. I get it. I understand why most women would rather marry for money, and why what most men bring to the table is the table itself. This is a concept as old as the stars; even when you are a young star in the relationship. JLo had it wrong all this time. Love today surely does cost a thing.

I will not eschew on the values of maturity and safety and comfort and knowing what you want. That’s trite and, quite frankly, boring.

I have friends (the company you keep, eh?) who are in a long-term relationship with some very old people. You know, the early man with 44-year-old kids. But it works for them. What you have to understand is: does this work for me? It’s not just about the sex, but it’s also not not about the sex.

Sex is the weapon of life; the shooting sperm launched akin to a guerrilla army to penetrate and weaken the egg. Life can thrust you into the pit of loneliness, depression a flea in your ear. Sex is a rope to hang on to, to pull you out, to end your isolation and come to a realisation that life is not always that bad.

People keep talking about dating for love or money. But do they have to be mutually exclusive? Is it an either-or situation? Personally, I don’t date for money. But you’ll spot me where the rich people are dating for love. I exist in that recklessness that is cute while young and disdainful while old.

Sometime back, I was walking with someone’s daughter pale tao and this sleek car stopped by. I told her if they ask her to go in, she can say I am her brother. I mean I wouldn’t be the first to do it. Abraham did it. Why would – should I – I be any different?

Economists have a term for it. Oh yes. The higher the skirt, the worse the economy. It’s quid quo pro. Even if they are over-60 and going to be with the Lord.

I never get what the furore is all about. We are all maximising our best years. I mean you don’t even have to squint too hard to see it in our country’s leadership. And, add to that, our folks had “ndogo ndogos” back in the day. Gacungwas. A break-glass-in case-of-emergency.

Each generation has a derogatory term for young people who are strong-willed and “sexually liberated”. Thing is, these girls (or boys) do not exist in a vacuum. I find it annoying how we keep policing others. We judge others by their actions, and ourselves by our intentions.

There is a danger that men my age are flying too close to the sun. Social media is painted with hyper-masculinity and machismo ideology. Men are told to focus on money and expressing any other emotion other than anger is considered ... weak. The other group is highly feminised; pegging and labelling everything, like how patriarchy should be dismantled, and pinning all the ills of the world on it. Us vs them. Sisi against wale. You have a better chance of convincing a porcupine to sleep with you than changing their mind. It’s devolved thinking. So, kudos to the government. Devolution inawork.

Look beyond the “hot takes” replayed ad infinitum on Twitter. Think for yourself. Think as yourself. There is a seductive sadness about it: not having to deal with the bull*** of young love. On the surface, it looks primitive. But deep down, we all want to cut away the bull***.

But I know the question that is eating at you. Would I get a mumama?

Yes.

And no.

Perchance that you see me riding shotgun in a KD-something Range Rover, pale Moi Avenue in tao on a Sunday, sipping a sundae (I’m on fire today) and the driver looks like a mumama who has earned the stripes on her back (not that way); I want you to know one thing. We will be from a room, yes, but whether that is a bedroom or boardroom is a matter of personal choice. Wallahi.

You know what I’m saying? Responsibility is the “r” in freedom.

Capisce?

@eddyashioya; [email protected]