mpango wa kando is not a man enough. It is sort of an entrance ritual, a command for recognition of one’s financial power, the first commandment in the in the bible of conspicuous consumption, prove to your peers that you have the surplus. This is a lesson I tend to hold priceless. It is my definition of manhood and it is one that it seems most men (am not sure about those from Nyeri) have mastered.
The
evidence of the same can be seen on Fridays in our campuses. You see these men
with their tinted Mercedes Benz around campuses and you might think of them as
good fathers who make a point of visiting their children. Only that these heavy
vehicles are seen within the vicinity of girls’ hostels and not till a little
after dark. They are our parents our pastors, our good neighbors and all time
family friends. They are people we have come to respect in the society because
they have mastered the art of deception and hypocrisy, always hiding within the
torn fabric of morality.
He won’t
be disappointed if you refuse his advances and you happen to be over thirty.
Thirty to him is old, forty a disaster and a seventy, his age mate is as good
as dead. It is easy to talk of the insidious male ineptitude but I think the
reason why our current crop of males are taken to be inept is because we are
very outsourcing to a point we overwhelm ourselves with the myriad of
responsibility due to our greed and not so responsible behaviors. We want
anything that crosses our path without considering on the implication it will
have on our already filled mouths.
They
have no qualms chasing after girls the age of their granddaughters. And why
should they? Their peers have Okayed it; in-fact, they demand it from them. The
coy young campus girl is his taste. She knows the game and is well too
obsequious and kind enough to allow him unlimited access to every single
orifice in her temple; precisely what he wants. She is his price to being
accepted by his peers as well as advances his perverted voyeuristic manners.
It is a
mutual existence and even when you want to paint blame, there is no finite distinction
as who is to blame. To her the grandpa (or
it sweetheart) is a God send ATM, a cash minting machine one she has an
obligation to put in good use. For money she is willing to disconnect her moral
compass, to bend the restrictions of morality. Fuck society... after all, the
end justifies the means. The current competitive global world is not for the
weaklings who cling to morality; it is for the go getters, the aggressive lot
who are strong enough to chart their way and navigate whatever current on their
path of success.
They
have given a meaning to the phrase go
getters and thanks to them I can now understand it without much struggle.
It can be understood that go getters also get the dicks and on the same note we
should have the go givers- the lot who ensure the supply dicks demanded is met.
It is as simple as that. What fascinates
ladies about wrinkled dicks is something I am yet to know. May be there is
something special about the flabby experienced dicks and it won’t hurt if
someone give me an insight on the same.
On the
contrast, the latest happening in Nyeri have painted a picture of a man on the
losing end though that is not a surprise at all. We lost it when we lost the
shame to a point we van narrate the tales of our women battering us in our
homes. What kind of man admits to being beaten by his wife? How did we change from men who know what they
want to bunch of sissies who run to the media every time their women glare
their teeth? I don’t mean that a woman cannot scald me with hot water; anyone can
be caught off guard, but how do you narrate the incidence to the media and
still call yourself a man?
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