Hole-y Matters

I’m always terrified when I meet a guy that wants to romance me in this ruthless Kenya of ours where things wanted are taken without a thought for due ceremony. Land is grabbed, money is stolen, ass is spanked, boobs are pinched, women are bedded. Most friendly hellos in this country end with no goodbyes. There’s too many ‘good riddances to bad rubbish’, ‘never ever’s, ‘I can’t believe I fell for that again’s. It’s always about money or sex because we are a commitment phobic dishonest nation. How else do you explain why a 50 year old business man walks with a bodyguard and a gun strapped to his waist 24/7? This guy knows he’s got no less than 4 bounties on his head – his 2 business partners that he fleeced off millions, his wife that found out about his pregnant mistress, and his mistress that realized that not even a baby would make him leave his wife. “DEATH TO THE RAT BASTARD!” is the resounding war cry. Sons and daughters are killing their mothers nowadays, ovyo ovyo tu. Makes you wonder why. Is it possibly because his mother poinsoned his girlfriend because she came from the wrong side of Lang’ata*? Or is it because she caught them in bed,  her  boyfriend deep inside the womb that bore her, and upon discovery, her 45 year old mother announced that she was pregnant, courtesy, 23 year old Cassanova? Maybe it’s all these things. A few months ago a woman was shot dead while buying wedding rings in uptown Nairobi and the prevailing story was that her ” cowife” couldn’t stand the thought that this woman was getting that church wedding that had been promised her for so long. It was the general opinion that the man at the apex of that triangle would most probably go through with the wedding with this other woman. Hadn’t she won after all, in this war for respectability among society? This ruthlessness is why I’m forever scared of giving in to my emotions when a Kenyan man gets too mushy with me. My question is always, what is he hiding? Why does he want me to fall for him before I part my legs and let him into my secret tunnel? Romance is foreign in these soils of ours. It’s all “Hello, let jr.____ (insert name) into your wet hole right now or I’ll call you a whore on social media and no one will ever want you again”. Labda ni mazoea tu but I prefer someone that’s upfront about what they want from me. Kama unataka kugawiwa sema tu. Do you want a ‘bae’? Is it a wife you’re looking for? What kind of wife- come we stay or church wedding? Are you going to ditch when I get fat and my hole widens because of your baby that inherited your massive head? Well, let me know in advance. I’ll most probably still give you my cookie. Women’s lib taught me to be in charge of my sexuality so if I’m horny you’re most probably getting it. If I smell a kahint of bullshit tu, then it’s adios sailor, get out and take your penis boat with you. *Kibera (non Nairobians)