Wednesday, September 22, 2021

Another Story.

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I am not a writer. I don’t even pride myself in being able to put two and two together when it comes to thinking of a story. Sometime back, I tried my hand in poetry to impress some lady whose tea I wanted to make every morning; with two tea bags like she loved it.

Sadly, the heifer ended up dating some dude whose knowledge of the queen’s language was slightly higher, if not similar to, that of some fellow from Kiambu who went to Punjab University. Don’t get me wrong, I am not saying that English is a measure of intelligence but why would she leave me after reading the piece of work I had taken time to compose/copy paste from google?

…fairest of them all,
You whose eyes shine,
And strip me naked,
You whose presence captures me,
In your captivity I surrender,
Coz our bond knows not secrets,
Our love knows no bounds,
Love more addictive than nicotine,
I can’t quit if I wanted to…

It’s okay Grace. This was nice while it lasted. Or almost started. Same thing to me. Data- Data, Potato-Potato.

I digress.

Being a first born male in an African home comes with its perks. You get to learn aspects of masculinity that not even best sellers can give. You become the deputy parent, the protector of your siblings, the brains behind big decisions and above all, you learn to be a man.

Masculinity is something nurtured within male species(and some females), that makes them ready to take on the playfield that is the world. I exude masculinity in so many aspects, or so I believe. I can walk into a room with my body sending confidence signals to anyone that cares to notice.( Also written as everyone in the room).

Nonetheless, most aspects of our lives revolve around women. Don’t we all know that the best home is found inside a woman’s heart? There where everything that matters is nurtured.There where she treats you like a child of her own. A woman in love is like a lioness. Dude, when a woman loves deep, she would literally hunt for you to eat. And by that I may mean that she would be willing to break her one thousand shilling note just so you could grab yourself some indomies and mirinda at the tuck shop. See, lionesses!

Additionally, they say that children’s brains come from their mothers. I don’t want to be called to a parent-teachers meeting to discuss my child’s dismal performance just because I failed to pick the one with brains in the broods they always walk in, looking like they could use mates.

Walking around campus with many ladies and being nothing but lovely around them so that they could love you all at the same time is greatly frowned upon. But how will you know the most intelligent person in the room without making comparisons? They say that a good fisherman casts his nets wider and further, don’t they?

Or maybe I’m just afraid of commitment. Perhaps one of the mistakes I will regret is asking a girl in my life what her ideal man is and then morphing into whatever mystical creature she describes, only to restore factory settings after gaining access to the cookie jar. (In case you were wondering why men are like octopuses {my editor insists that its octopi. I still cant decide how I genuinely feel about that word}, changing colours just when you thought you were getting to know their true colour).

There’s this time my mom was beginning to give me talks about getting married. She even advised me to get a Kalenjin girlfriend pursuing a Bachelor’s degree in Education then bring her home after we were done with fourth year. She made sure to paint a picture of a simple life for me; which would require my wife and I coming back from work to our cows everyday.

The idea of taking care of cows sounded a little deragatory back then. My ego probably had a conversation with my Id saying, ” How do we take such nonsense when the dreams we have don’t feel so hot about milking cows and cleaning after their dung?”

So I confronted her about it. Told her I wasn’t going to do what she wants if it doesn’t make me happy. The fight spiralled so fast. Soon we were discussing about my CPA progress, a topic I had successfully managed to avoid until then. She did not fail to mention how Operations Management was a wrong specialisation to go for.

” You were an A material… you should have taken Finance or Accounting instead, ” she said.

” You know what those words do, mom? They plant seeds of doubt. You should be happy that I know what I like and prefer. That is called a sense of individuality. And it’s rare,” I countered.

Dad was in the bedroom listening into the conversation and when he came storming out, guess whose side he took? Yes. You got that right. Turns out the old chap loves his bread and butter more than I thought he did. Not even after the doctor said he should cut down on it. 

“Why are you talking back at your mother? ” he roared . They are a team, those ones. “And do you know how much we sacrifice for you so that we can pay for your CPA classes and exams?”

“Dad. I don’t want to do CPA. Operations Management does it for me. I don’t like Math anymore. I see myself in a totally different space compared to that which you see me in. I also don’t get why I must bring a Kalenjin wife when I think that Luo girls are okay. “

Fast forward, I had to seek refuge in one of my cousin’s place who had began living on his own. I had crossed the line. Why? you ask. Well, I did the unthinkable.Dad tried to hit me and I ducked.That right there, was a free ticket to eviction. I was thrown out in the middle of the night, Nigerian movie style.My father swore to use his hunting bow on me if I ever returned.

He called after a month. A whole month. Thirty one whole days of two ill prepared meals instead of the four I was used to. In that one month, I missed food from home so much. You might call me a coward, but believe me, life gets a little harder when you know you don’t have a safety net and no one sends Mpesa from home anymore. When my folks said they wanted to talk, I was willing to listen. We made up. And peace was restored in the household.

I still hear my mother beseeching our neighbor who is also the church reverend to talk to me. That perhaps I could listen to a woman of God and not bring a Luo woman home. It saddens me that she does not trust my judgement. That if I say Luo women make me happy, I mean it. What saddens me more is that I am yet to disappoint her, again. I hope she will one day be alright with a son who was seduced and swallowed by the city instead of finishing school and going to build a house opposite theirs. I also hope they will always know that choosing to build far away from their nest does not mean I don’t love them.

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25 COMMENTS

  1. I am a luo girl, just saying. I could make you a little bit happier though

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    • This is so amazing. I wonder how you just sit and gather all these thoughts then pour them out to make such an interesting story.

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      • Thanks, Barutti.
        I appreciate the kind words.

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    • You are just a Luo girl
      Standing in front of a Protagonist
      Asking him to let you make him happy?

      Thanks for reading through, Stace.

      0

  2. Hahhha… and yess…most aspect of our lives revolve around women… nice piece Mercy

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    • Yes it does…..
      And thank you, Dan.

      0

  3. This is a nice piece of work. Keep up Mercy

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    • I appreciate the feedback, Mutuku.

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  4. Tantalising

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    • Thanks, Shan

      0

  5. The plot twist… Who wouldnt like the story… Quarantunes

    0

  6. Nice writing

    0

  7. This is awesome

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    • Thank you, Bruto.

      0

  8. Nice read.

    0

    • Thanks, Sandy.

      0

  9. Quite relatable.
    Nice!

    0

    • I’m glad it’s relatable, Hilda.
      Thanks.

      0

  10. Interesting piece..

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    • Thank you, Lalang

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  11. Nice piece,

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    • Asante sana, Hillary

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  12. Nice read.

    0

  13. I really am happy that you did, Kithaka

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  14. It was worth it

    0

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