Allure of foreign men
I also read somewhere that it was some West
African oil tycoon bankrolling Vera Sidika’s
larger-than-life lifestyle. Chic posts flashy new
pictures every second on Instagram like it’s her
job, yet she can still afford a half-a-million-
shilling weave, a quarter-million-shilling pair of
heels, supposed fifty-million-shilling skin-
lightening surgery, three nights at the
prestigious Villa Rosa Kempinski and a holiday in
Dubai — if gossip sites are anything to go by
these days.
Then I read again that one of my celebrity
crushes, Habida, had said “Yes” to an Igbo
mister and relocated to the West; that Avril has
committed to a Zulu man and wedding bells are
lurking in the shadows and that Jolene of Tahidi
High had received a brand new Kompressor as a
birthday present from her South African
sweetheart.
I read in silence. Profound— albeit disturbed —
silence. And I wondered what it was that these
bozos had that we, Kenyan men, didn’t. I
wondered what it was that was driving our
lovely women away from their motherland to
foreigners. I wondered what a loud guy with an
accent sounding like he had just swallowed a
live frog and it peed in his mouth could possibly
do/say to my woman to make her walk out my
door and straight into his arms.
The ladies told me we don’t treat them right,
that our Oga brodas are as romantic as it gets.
And I retorted that I know I’m a douche myself,
but even then, I pull out the seat for my dates
every once in a while. And I’m a broke, good-for-
nothing son of a mere high school teacher, but
I’ve once hired a taxi to and from a date. Come
to think of it, I never even got laid that night.
Women! Huh!
Outrageous demands
Some told me it was about the money; that our
pockets just aren’t deep enough. Or that we are
too mean to go all out. To these women, I told
the story of a certain Phil [not his real name], a
former campus chum of mine who moved his
beloved out of the institution hostels into her
own fully-furnished, two-bedroom apartment.
With a 42’ inch flat screen television, state of
the art sound system et al. She had these
outrageous demands, which Phil tried his best
to meet.
Lack of gratitude
When I thought really hard about it, I realised
that maybe we weren’t the ones with the
problem. It could just as easily be the women.
See, dating a modern day Kenyan girl is as
demanding as it is tiring. You’d think you were
pulling an unmoving truck glued to your bottom.
You go out of your way to make her happy but
for her lack of gratitude, she will never
acknowlege your efforts.
It will always start slow; you on your best
behaviour and she playing ridiculously hard to
get. You will take her to lunch, probably at
Galitos (because that’s where all the ‘cool cats
are’); buy her chocolates and ice cream on her
birthday; take her for evening coffee at
Gibson’s; meet her friends and act like you’re
the nicest character on earth, tolerating all their
bull$#!t and non-stop gossip; you will even take
her out once in a while for a good time, where
you may end up spending much more than you
bargained for ‘cause these girls “don’t do cheap
liquor” then hire a cab and drop her drunken butt
back home as you walk.
‘Used and dumped’
Then she will begin feeling and hanging around
you more; getting touchy-freely with you all the
time, calling you sweet names. The goodnight
hugs will turn into pecks and then, with time,
full-blown kisses.
Then she will finally open the doors of her
kingdom and you will slide in majestically,
almost like a veteran soldier heading out to war
with a Third World country, with the precision of
a butcher.
She will moan and scream your name with a few
inferences to the glorious Man Above and you
will feel accomplished, proud and more like a
man than you ever had before. And a voice
inside you will— almost boastfully— say. “Yes,
say my name, Baby. Say my name. You smart.
You loyal!”
She will agree to a relationship the next
morning. Count yourself lucky if she doesn’t ask
the one question no man wants to hear after a
romp. Ati, “So what are we?” To which my
response is always BFFs (best friends forever).
I’ve been punched by a lady before though, so
gentlemen don’t try this at home. I know enough
men who have been used and dumped.
A couple months or so into the relationship and
all hell will break loose. She sees you talking to
another mami for two seconds and she goes
red. You don’t pick her calls, even if you were
just in the bathroom, and it’s World War III. You
can’t go out with your boys as much anymore;
she says she should be your number one priority,
and that she deserves your undivided attention
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