The other day I told you to Be A Man … but I did not tell you how. Today I will pass some wisdom over to you. Keep it in thine heart. HERE IS HOW TO BE A REAL MAN!
Don’t Fear Shit. Being fearless doesn’t mean you don’t have fear, it means you know how to conquer fear. It’s good to test your fear, to overcome it. You see that miraa Hilux approaching and you step out to the middle of the road – pale Kangeta. That miraa pick up will stop. Or not.
Do what you say. If you tell people you’re going to step out to face the incoming miraa Hilux to test your fear, do it. Or you shut the EFF up!
Show lots of emotion. A real man isn’t afraid to let others see his emotion. You can be sad, happy, furious, angry, disappointed, ecstatic, all in the space of thirty seconds. Practice in front of your phone selfie camera.
Speaking of emotion, a real man shows his anger. He is angry about injustice, about wrong, about the fact that the sukuma did not have enough salt and he now has to call his small sister or daughter to bring the salt, AGAIN! You don’t have to be a Meru to be angry, btw.
Show your value. A real man is a valuable person in his work, in his relationships, to his family, to his cow, to his cockroaches. Especially, the cockroaches. They don’t cook and they need you. Don’t dare clean up the kitchen. Watakula wapi?
Real Men Cry
Cry. A man reveals his pain. He opens up to those he trusts; he cries and uses the pillow and the back of his hand to wipe away the tears and all the mucus when he watches 3 Idiots or other emotional movies in bed.
A real man loves without holding back. He gives it all. To his girl. To his children. His mama sukuma. His cockroaches.
Grow your mind. A real man should not only take care of his body but his mind too. He needs to strengthen it, to build it up, make it strong. You know what makes strong brains? Avocados and strungi. That’s just science.
Explore the world. Kneel on your bed and look outside. See what’s happening outside from your bed. Look at the cars and girls if you live at Plot 10 or other crowded places in Nairobi. Ooh, look at that bird soaring in the sky. Close your eyes and see the world from that bird’s eyes.
I got my very first watch a long long time ago. I think I was in Class 4 or 5. It was one of those fake Casios that went for like 25 Shillings – a gift from my father for bringing home a bowl at the end of the term. (Come to think of it, I contributed a lot of utensils to our home in Primary School – gifts for being in the Top 3)
Knowing that I was an upcoming engineer, he warned me that if I opened it up he would never buy me another one. So, I kept it for a very very long time – 2 days – before the straps came off, and I couldn’t replace them because the “spring’i zilipotea” I was now forced to carry it in the pocket, even when I went to play. A day later, I gave it to my classmate Makasa, to hold for me while I played football – I was a better goalkeeper than Francis Onyiso then, known for diving like a cat.
Only that Makasa lost the watch and I was now watchless. Oops!
So, my father kept the promise and never bought me a watch again, until KCPE and I needed to have a watch to, you know, manage my exam well. This time, it was one of those watches which had a calculator and a crowing jogoo inside. Not that it helped me keep time, I was 30 minutes late for the GHCRE paper! I kept that for some time, I think it’s still somewhere in my archives.
But then I started hating watches. I felt they were, well, a baggage. Like carrying a load by your wrist.
Until I started studying the successful people in life, in history. You know, because I wanted to be successful too. Who doesn’t? Some wore suits, others T-shirts and hoodies. Some claimed they slept late and woke early, others said they worked hard and played hard at the same time.
All had a common denominator, they wore watches!From the greatest political and business leaders to the most successful entertainers. I did some simple research and my findings were:
A watch is the most important class accessory for a man. A watch is a measure of one’s class as a man | Quote me.
So, I started shopping around for a watch, any watch. I went online and it was like the gods were against my new mission. See, I started with Kaymu, now Jumia Market. The customer experience was woeful. I selected a badass skeleton watch (my father had a skeleton Rolex watch when I was a kid that he sold for enough money to buy a plot and I had always respected those things). This was also a Rolex but it wasn’t worth a plot, really. It was Sh.1,000! 🙂
But it took a month and tens of emails to Kaymu and even the Jumia MD then for it to be delivered. And, they delivered the asshole the wrong watch! I kept complaining and the seller told me they were out of stock and he would send me another one to replace it. By the time the replacement came, the fist watch had already stopped working – I wasn’t even using the thing!
Like a week later, walking around town, I found those two watches, being sold on the street – at Sh. 100! Zile za kuitaniwa, mia soo!
I was so mad I pinched myself, hard. I had spent a fortune and two months on a watch worth a hundred bob! To think of it, those watches being sold at Sh. 100 looked like a bargain – you buy one, use it for two months, dispose, and buy another one.
Ladies, believe it or not, the watches you drooled over on me were fake street watches. 🙂
At the back of my mind, all along, I knew Steve Jobs, Barrack Obama and Jay Z were not wearing a different watch every month… and they were definitely not worth Sh. 100. I knew I had to invest in a good watch. That’s what a man is about – having a watch he feels good about. The 100 bob watches look good only to people who don’t know about watches.
I knew what I was looking for, a simple watch that didn’t draw undue attention but remained classy. Gentlemen maintain minimalist lifestyles. So, I went online on eBay and searched for a watch for some days. I didn’t want to spend much on my first real watch – and I also didn’t trust online shopping enough to commit much money (as if I had lost of money!). I got this baby here…
Simple – had all the features I was looking for, including the date, and it was simple enough. I don’t eat brands, so I did with the Bei nuo thing. 🙂
And it served me very very well. That Bei nuo. It still works great and serves the purpose, but there is one little problem: One day, while I was chicken-crossing Waiyaki Way just in front of The Mall, it fell and bounced off the tarmac; and got a crack. I still cringe when I cross that part of the road, which happens to be every day.
My heart got a crack with that crack. I continued using it, even after a cobbler somehow threw it into one of those cans they use to wash shoes as they shine, and got super glue all over it. My beloved Bei nuo has faced worse life than me.
And then last week, while doing my unending search for watch and electronics deals, I fell in love at first sight – literally. In between the product pages of Kilimall lay a beauty. Simple yet sophisticated, high class yet cheap… all glowing and beckoning at me. Her name was Yazole… and that remains her name.
Click to get yours.
Remember, real men wear watches. Boys and girls wear bangles. Ouch! 🙂
Be a man and face your troubles. Actually, be a man and carry the burdens of the world.
Be a man and sweat your ass out in the mjengo to feed your family. Even the Good Lord said you have to toil. Sell one of your balls and buy food if you have to because you don’t deserve to be called a man if your family sleeps hungry.
Be a man and get yourself a job. A man cannot rest on his stupid ass and wait for his wife to go out and work. Find something to do like other men because it’s unimaginable for your woman to be the breadwinner.
Be a man and build a home for your family. A real man can’t live in rentals forever. You must own a piece of earth or we will be pointing at you and your family forever as an example of a failed man without a place to be buried. Be a man and buy land… People will praise you. You may even be called to events to speak to the youth on how to own land.
Be a man and kiss your woman even when she slaps you like they do in the soap operas. Dare to slap her back and we will kill you on Twitter. We will deport your silly ass into a prison unless you are rich and politically connected.
Better yet, cheat on your wife, man. Actually, don’t even hide it… The society allows you to have many women. You will be less of a man if you don’t.
Be a man and fight for your country. Get up and get killed for your family. It is your duty to die because it is very wrong for the papers to write headlines like “several people including women and children died”. Get that? Be a man and be killed in their place. Actually, if you see enemies coming, run and meet them. Let them kill you first… You better die than live a coward.
Be a man and go for the woman of your dreams. Too bad if you are a broke loser and you aren’t tall, dark and handsome. They will sneer at you, but you must show the steel of a man, keep going after them. And no, even if it’s the woman who likes you, man, you are supposed to know that and go after her. Use your beard as your antennae, stupid!
Be a man and get circumcised. If you are a kihii you cannot lead us. I repeat, being cut means you have leadership qualities. The foreskin blocks the mind, too. And you cannot intermarry with other tribes if you don’t there is no way you will get the votes from the mountains.
Be a man and get rich. Drive manly cars. If you drive a Vitz you most likely use Veet to shave. Be a man and drink bitter beers without wincing like a baby. You can’t drink wine, man. Don’t you dare drink Fanta, dude.
So the girl you have been eyeing for ages has finally accepted a sleepover and you have a feeling that this will be a good night. You had praised your kitchen skills on Whatsapp and she wants to taste your food. You will cook for her. So, you go to the market, or supermarket depending on where you are, and buy cooking stuff you don’t use in your bachelor pad, like carrots and cucumbers, garbage. You get ginger, dhania and pilipili hoho, too. If you are like me, the only malighafi(read spices) you normally use are salt, a small onion and tomatoes. Today you are stocked. It will be a hot dinner. You aim to impress the empress.
Your bachelor pad has only one bed, and you have a feeling that the kitchen won’t be the only hot room in the house tonight. You see, on Whatsapp, in your late night chats, you have started raunchy Truth or Dare games with raunchy details. You have this gut feeling that you have been blessed. Not for procreation purposes – she is not here for marriage. And you don’t want to return home ‘on a vehicle carrier in a box’ as your grandmother once said.
You will need condoms….. you know, just in case.
So after your shopping, you set out to look for the sheaths. That’s where trouble starts. You don’t buy these things like you buy potatoes. You have to sweat for it. As they say, good things rarely come easy.
So, you walk down the street, peeping into shops to see, one, if the good old packet is hung on the shelves and two if the shopkeeper is an approachable agemate. If you live in a small town, the shopkeepers are mostly women the age of your mother wearing glasses and kilemba. Such shopkeepers don’t stock condoms. It’s a sin. Your best bet is a chemist. So, you keep walking, looking for chemists.
Chemist 1 has a queue. There is no way you will queue, and in the full glare of the public, ask for the forbidden sachets. Pass.
Chemist 2 has more than one attendant. You can’t imagine walking in and whispering to the guy that you want Durex and he shouts to the lady. “Do we have Durex in stock?” To which she shouts back, “No! Tell him we have Trust Studded and Salama!”. And after you leave they will discuss you, anyway. Pass, again.
Chemist 3 has one, approachable guy. But there is an older guy there, eating stories with him. He has even been given a chair, and from the looks of it, he is not too sick to stand. He plans to stay for long. You kick an avocado seed in the street in frustration. Why do people go to talk with the pharmacy guy? These people are cursed.
Chemist 4. Voila! There is only one guy inside so you pull your hood to your eyes and walk in. You find him talking on the phone and he cheerfully lifts his index finger, to please wait ooone moment. You place your shopping paper bags on the floor and shuffle your feet impatiently. Then, just then, a cute girl from the neighbourhood walks in. There is no way you are buying condoms in her presence. You never know, she may be a potential. You ask for mosquito coil, and ABZ, for de-worming. “This elnino has come with too many mosquitoes”. You explain.
You start walking back the way you came. Popping your eyes into the chemists. There has been no improvement. You start trying to remember if you have any leftover CDs from previous sexcapedes. You have one piece of Trust, two pieces of Femiplan, one piece of those brown government condoms, and an empty packet of some Durex under the bed. From what she had said on Whatsapp, she doesn’t do the deed in the dark. Chucking brands upon brands of condoms will be suicidal.
You decide….kiumane. You walk into Chemist 2- it also has M-Pesa:
As the guy is perusing his M-Pesa book, you ask discretely. “Uko na CD gani?” He unashamedly turns and takes you through the entire wall of condoms like those Bata attendants showing you different shoes in a rack. You cut him short. “Give me 5 packets of Femiplan”Femiplan has 6 pieces per packet and with 30 condoms and a limited supply of partners, you know they will last a long time. You don’t want to go through this gruelling experience again.
You walk home, feeling like a Roman general who has just conquered the entire world.
Your guest arrives to a hot, saucy meal and when that time comes… it turns out it is that time of the month for her. You will not be using the condoms tonight, or anytime soon. You wail in agony.