I REFUSE TO BE AN ‘AFRICAN WOMAN’

 

I have failed the generation that is African women, terribly so. As I write this I have just recovered from an episode of intense menstrual cramping that had almost claimed my sanity. Earlier during the day some of my friends came visiting and the subject of discussion was…Childbirth! As everyone got talking about the best way to bring forth new life I found myself in familiar territory- holding a contradicting opinion that made me the black sheep of the conversation. After what I just underwent for three hours or so this evening, I feel vindicated to have been of the opinion that Caesarian Section is the best way to go about things. I refuse to be an African woman regarding the issue of reproductive processes. I know anything natural is always the best choice but if it involves pain, I’ve gotta give it a second, third and even fourth thought.

 

Back to cramping; after being criticized by my friends for being a weakling who always wants the easy ways out, I started thinking seriously about my ‘Africanness’ and how I could begin expressing it. As if the gods had their ears on the ground waiting to help a sister in her quest to be a true African woman, my ‘days of the month’ decided to show up today, how appropriate! This is a God sent opportunity! I thought to myself as I braced myself for five days or so of giving painkillers a wide berth and enduring the pain like a proper African woman. This was going to be a good starting point if I was to embrace the idea of labor pains and natural birth in the near future. I was excited; it felt like I was a confident soldier going to war for the first time and with the surety of a victory in the battle.

 

I was tempted to go to the Chemist and get some painkillers ‘just in case’, I mean; the late Maya Angelou said a proper woman should always be armed to the tooth for anything, right? I decided to pass the idea and headed back to my house. My sixth sense told me it was a bad idea given the intensity of pain that was awaiting me but with the hindsight of how proud my friends had been as they described their ‘African woman moment’ of braving pain during such times, I decided to soldier on. There is always a first time, I told myself as I filled several bottles with hot water to join the brigade of African women fighting pain ‘the natural way’. I even busied myself with physical exercise as I had been advised and did a random walk around school to avert any cramping on the way.

 

The first pang of pain cut right across my tummy like a sharp object. I lay on my back and got onto the first remedy- think less about the pain and divert your thoughts to something more interesting, like someone you love. I started thinking about a certain guy, a certain guy in my Fb inbox with really cute eyes. It made me feel better for a while. Only for a short while; before I knew it the cramping was fast spreading from my tummy to my thighs. Heh! That was just it. I took two hot water bottles and quickly placed them on my tummy and thighs. Bad idea, the heat from the water was making the pain even more intense. My back too had joined forces now and I just couldn’t stand the pain. Did I mention nausea and a bad headache? I tried doing a self massage but that didn’t make things any better. Lying in bed felt like relaxing in the middle of a bonfire, the pain seemed to increase with any slight movement I made.

 

I saw death, no; I was dead for a moment. I swear I became numb for some seconds and feared I had joined my ancestors right in the middle of my bold quest to become an ‘African woman’. When I regained consciousness being an ‘African woman’ was the last thing on my mind. I asked my housemate to go collect any kind of painkillers she could get from our neighbors. She came back with a cocktail of drugs, some of which I have never seen or heard of. I was like a druggie who had been off their thing and their system was threatening to explode if they didn’t do a re- boot at the earliest opportunity. I quickly grabbed two yellow capsules I’ve never seen and two Paracetamols and gobbled them down with lots of water before jumping into my bed and covered completely. Whatever happens let it happen as long as it is not the pain I am currently experiencing.

 

I woke up two hours later covered in sweat but with a surprisingly relived body and a light head. I wanted to write immediately! My housemate offered me supper, it was around midnight. I said no, the inspiration bug had bit me and this is not a moment any Writer wants to pass. I rarely get inspired by failure but here I was all flared up after my poor show in braving pain like my fellow African women. It’s currently raining outside even as I write this. I feel like going outside to dance in the rain and tell my African forefathers that I have failed. The bar was placed too high for me. I want that bar lowered or my name be forever struck out of the book of ‘African women’ if the tenets are going to be voluntary endurance of physical pain.

 

I am thinking about labor pains now. If I could not stand a few hours of cramping pain how will I even face the pangs of childbearing? Will my husband see me as a complete failure if I fail to endure pain for the sake of his children? No, will I feel like a complete failure if I do not endure pain while bringing forth our children? Does it make me any less of an African woman that I am so afraid of physical pain? Isn’t there any other measure of being a ‘true African woman’ apart from endurance of pain? Why must our strength always be inspired by pain? Isn’t it time we all rested from the idiocy that is putting ourselves through physical pain in order to express our womanhood? I am strong but I refuse deliberate pain. To my future husband: my strength is not sufficient to see me through a labor ward but if you promise to stick by my side to the very last minute, I might just pass Caesarian section and go through those six hours or so of pain to bring forth our child. What I mean is- if you volunteer to be the recipient of my out of love kicks and blows as I go through labor pain, yes honey, natural will do it for me! Meanwhile I will be at the Chemist first thing in the morning to get my monthly dose of painkillers; I have refused to be an African woman!

 

 

WHEN YOUR GIRLFRIEND BECOMES A FEMINIST

I’ll preface this article by stating that my longest relationship finally went on its knees and I have a sure feeling it has something to do with my opinionated Feminist self. I avowedly ID myself as a Feminist and strongly believe that gender egalitarianism is an ideology every human being should push for. While this article is purely anecdotal to my own experiences as ‘tween’ feminist in the dating circles, it does somehow shed light on what is is like to be in a relationship with a feminist and what we tween feminists are all about.

Those who have read a few books know that Feminism is a multi- faceted ideology especially on the African continent with all the conflicting cultural settings. It basically calls for the equal treatment of all human beings. I’ll not state which school of feminism ideology I subscribe to but it is something Mr. Boyfriend wants me to erase from my mind if our relationship is to continue. At the beginning he was really excited about my well thought out intellectual opinions on just about everything and my secure personality. It earned me some brownie points: he always insisted I tag along whenever his boys were around and of course they were all impressed that a 20- year old could sustain their kind of talk. It seems he liked it just that way- pointing out his trophy kick- ass girlfriend from a safe distance; when the kicking was directed to his a** though, hell broke loose.

Are we that stubborn?

I just like to believe we were all given brains so that we could think on our own. The most independent aspect of me has to be my thought process. It therefore comes naturally that my opinion be considered in any decision we make as a couple. No one understands better how frustrating ‘consultation’ can get like our old man Mwai Kibaki. I overruled any decisions made without prior consultations and this simply meant one thing: we could never really move forward. I am all for respect and compromise being both- ways. Somehow Kenyan men are socialized to make decisions without consulting the women in their lives, something I find rather unsettling. I refuse to be used as a mere prop in a relationship. Oh, it’s not only in romantic relationships where I think my thoughts are valid, just ask my friends who always wins arguments. Mr., I know it bruises your ego every time I ask to give an opinion on every decision you make but hey, am from the Feminist Faculty! Even the good book says that ‘two heads are better than one.”

Admissions currently ongoing!

Miss ‘know it all’

Some people are of the idea that Feminists are generally smart women. Well, seemingly smart women like Margaret Thatcher did not subscribe to the Feminist ideology. I think feminism and one’s level of education are independent things and the fact that most feminists sound smart is purely coincidental or due to the fact that many generally like to read. I have always stood up for my own and strongly believed in the cause even before I had a full grasp of what life is all about. I consider myself a widely read person and chances are I have an opinion on just about everything. News time was some kind of hell for him as I was always armed with opinions about the headlines. He didn’t like how seamlessly I transitioned from a debate on the Finance Bill to matters football. Am not the type that’s eager to rub my opinions on people’s faces, it’s not even part of the feminist ideology! I only strongly believe people should independently analyze situations to make & defend their own views. Trying to dismiss my opinions as ‘feminist- driven’ is not only sexist but misplaced too!

Oh yes, feminists can cook

One of the reservations my ex had about my beliefs is whether they prevented me from stepping in the kitchen. He was pleasantly surprised to know that I had no qualms about hitting the kitchen but there was a catch: it was never to be obligatory. Am not the type of woman who feels like they’re in heaven while in a kitchen and I won’t even try to justify that. On those days I felt beat, I would slump on the sofa with full expectation that he would hit the kitchen too. Its common sense, I cannot possibly slave myself when am already tired. Unlike people who aren’t feminists who believe in slaving for their men at all costs, I believe responsibilities should be shared accordingly. I do not advocate for female chauvinism but I think men should be responsible adults too capable of doing for themselves things like laundry and cooking instead of merely depending on women to do it for them.

Bring it on!

Ambition is priceless

There is more to life than men, there has to be. My life does not rotate around men or the idea of ultimately nailing a man. Am quite content with pursuing other areas of interest in my life with equal if not more zeal. He just didn’t get what the fuss was all about. I was chasing opportunities all over, reading all manner of books and my list of to- achieve things kept growing longer. One day I was all about writing a blog and when that was done I wanted to write for a local paper and when that was achieved too I mentioned something about wanting to research and write a policy brief on the prevention of gender- based violence and sexual crimes in local campuses. He thought I had truly gone mad! “Who are you to do such a complicated thing?” He posed on the night I mentioned to him my latest dreams. I didn’t feel crushed but it hurt that he thought my ambitions were next to crazy. Am well aware of the fact that am still a broke college girl who should be working on her transcripts but hey, as someone once sang, "ambition is priceless". Feminism has taught me to dream beyond the limits set by gender stereotypes and that sort of thing and that is exactly what I do, with or without the blessings of my boyfriend.

Women are not born, they’re made

One of my best feminist authors has to be Simone de Beauvoir, she’s a French Feminist known for authoring books like  The Second Sex and other material that greatly contributed to the feminist philosophy. Controversial as her personal life may have been, her contribution to the feminist cause cannot be ignored. The notion that nature intended certain roles for specific genders is preposterous to those of us who subscribe to her school of thought. “It takes the effort of someone to make another person the other”, women are ‘the other’. This perhaps best describes my decision to become a feminist. With that in mind, do not expect me to be the conventional girlfriend. I have a clear description of who I am and what I want in life and in the relationship, some of which may border on rebellion. I simply refuse to fit in the traditional description of a woman- submissive and passive, stupid even. That idea was created by someone and it could as well be uncreated by me of course. Anytime you wonder why I, your loving feminist girlfriend do not fit in traditional female roles, scroll up here.

Simone de Beauvoir

Surprise, surprise! We aren’t going Dutch!

Yeah I know, feminism and independence are supposed to be Siamese twins joined right at the hip. Then there’s the dogma that Feminists are rich, influential, Caroline Mutoko- like women who buy islands for their partners to prove they’re feminists. There existed nothing like splitting bills or me picking up the tab to prove that am a feminist while dating my ex. Double standard, right? I never really expect a guy to pick up the tab but I totally appreciate him doing so! Am strictly speaking for myself here and there is a valid reason: my college budget just couldn’t allow me to pay dinner bills at the kind of restaurants he used to take me to but if we were doing chapo madondo at Mama Ciku’s, I would gladly flex my feminist muscle and pick the tab! There was no way of getting his uptown stomach to eat at Mama Ciku’s and there goes the story of us missing the Dutch flight.

There were positives though; I do not dig the whole Valentine’s and anniversary gifts drama and so he got to breathe easy on such days. One thing is sure, am working my a** off every day to provide for my own needs, nothing breeds resentment from a man faster than financial dependence on him.

Feminists are not bitter/ angry/ victims/ man- haters

Most people hold the asinine thought that feminists are be bitter, bra- burning women with a bad history with men. Ours is just an ideology backed by several books we have read and our own personal contributions to the cause. We appreciate humanity and are the few bold women willing to be assertive for what we believe to be the right cause in a world full of misogynists. We do not fear housework either! Speaking for myself again, I became a feminist long before I started dating and my experiences with men if any do not inform my stance.Oh, feminists do not hate men either! There does exist male feminists as well and most have been vocal about their support for the cause too. We have passion for the cause because we believe in its potential to better human lives.

Some people just get it wrong!

 

Feminists make interesting lovers!

I know my good friend Nyoiro would dismiss this thought as akin to saying that bees make interesting house guests! For real people, think of a girlfriend without the usual drama that some women have. No nagging- we believe you are mature enough to get things once. No whining about our body sizes and things like that- we are confident and secure people. We are totally intelligent- conversations will be way more interesting. We have no inhibitions when it comes to trying out new things and taking risks. We have other interests- this means we have a life apart from the relationship and we won’t spend all our time bothering you with questions of your whereabouts! Above all we are not scared of being single so clinging involved.

Everyone needs Feminism!

With all these positive aspects of Feministic women, you may wonder, why did my relationship end? Well, I mentioned something to him about not being keen on dropping my maiden name upon marriage and my intention to give all of my progeny my surname. He thought I was kidding and rebuffed it with a sexist joke. That, ladies and gentlemen, is how the cookie crumbled. My children will bear the name Lumadi and that’s not debatable!

FRIENDS WITH ‘BENEFITS’: WHO REALLY BENEFITS?

Sex is no doubt a major factor in most young people’s relationships today. An interesting trend that is however shaping relationships or acquaintanceships on campus today is the ‘friends with benefits’ or f.w.b factor. This is supposedly a ‘no strings attached’ arrangement where the parties involved are only available for each other sexually; no emotions or getting all mushy and lovey dovey. Just plastic, lusty sex and the deal is done, till next time. No texting or calling to complement each other afterwards or anything that borders on commitment. To them, love is considered an illusion for the weak and the naïve. This mostly happens between people who are already friends and yeah, ex lovers. For ex’s however, I believe there is the whole point of sex for closure and finally learning to let go, anything past that then qualifies to be f.w.b.

While randomly chatting in a friend’s room, one of her roommates revealed that she was still a virgin. We asked for her views on the ‘f.w.b’ subject and to say that she reeled back in horror will be an understatement. To her sex is a sacred act only to be shared with those who are truly loved under the cover of marriage, how refreshing! You should have seen the envy on many people’s faces as she went ahead to narrate the ‘I-will-be-broken-my-virginity-on-our-wedding-night-in-Bahamas’ fantasy that we all once had at some point! So it is not everyone who shares in the random sex idea on campus, very encouraging news indeed. My major concern however, is those who believe in it and have at some point been or currently are parties to this arrangement as well as those planning to enter into it. To the ladies mostly, are you really benefiting or are merely lying to yourself with the hope that something will grow out of the arrangement? Think hard about it.

Women are extremely emotional people; we attach meaning to everything that happens, up to and including sex. So how does it work for women in these arrangements? I refuse to believe that there are normal women who would have plastic sex and walk out without any tiny string attached, forget the girls on the streets, that is a different ballgame altogether. If you keep sleeping with the same guy for some period of time, chances are that there is this one characteristic about them that you will like and find difficult to forget. Like you love how he strokes his chest while talking and find it extremely attractive! Or you like the way he walks. Piece these little details together and you will find yourself in a catch-22 situation where you have fallen for your ‘f.w.b’ who does not share those feelings. How will you handle that?

 I was also made to understand that the men in these ‘f.w.b’ arrangements are not big on matters foreplay, how crude! One thing that was synonymous among us as we talked about the subject is that foreplay is a major factor to all women. Fine, we may like the idea that you are lusting after us but then there is this bonding that comes with kissing and the whole foreplay thing that all women need. We have to feel secure with you first before letting you have a taste of the kingdom! So when a woman is in an arrangement where the ‘idiot’(allow me to use the term) comes and jumps on top of her and in three minutes they are done and are off, it is obvious that things are not right for her. There is also this ‘awkward’ moment that comes after you are done; it is during this moment that men should tell their women ‘sweet nothings’ to jerk them back to their senses and make them feel valued. Without this I do not know how one then musters the courage to do the ‘walk of shame’ from Kilimanjaro to Mak Box without feeling like a rug along the way!

So how exactly does one react when they are introduced to the guy’s other f.w.b’s? Do you protect your f.w.b territory as well? Do you ask them how he is with them? There is always this instinctive feeling in all women to mark their territories. For control freaks like me, put a man in my life and I will be dying to make my presence felt from what he wears to how much he weighs! That is how I mark my territory but then here is a situation where there is a whole man in your life whom you cannot influence even just a little? A woman has to have a bit of control and influence on the man in their life; it is just being a woman. I cannot imagine myself in a situation where I have to persevere being pivoted by a guy’s potbelly just because our f.w.b arrangement does not give me the power to ask him to lose weight! I would have to device a way to make you do it, like making you fall in love! Haha!

Here then comes the big question; is it possible for a f.w.b arrangement to premise in a relationship? At what point do the two of you finally decide to stop saying “f**k love” and embrace this warm and soft feeling of being in love? Or tragically, what happens should one of the parties in the f.w.b arrangement fall in love with another person? Do you just accept and move on or what exactly is the protocol for handling such a mess? How do you learn to start caring for a person who sometime back was just a sex object to you? I hear it is possible for men to sleep with women they hate, me thinks women who manage to do f.w.b also secretly hate this men! That would be the only way to pull off a ‘no strings attached’ relationship successfully without having to fall for the guy.

I do not mean to be mean to the guys but in as much as many of these illicit affairs always seem to be working to your advantage, do not celebrate just yet. When you are done being generous with your D and overworking it(I hear you are big on Viagra too!) with all these women and finally get married, here is to you suffering from a serious case of Erectile Dysfunction and failing to satisfy the most important woman in your life then! Here’s to her cheating on you with that guy you despise now because he is not as Macho as you are! Here’s to the juicy stories I will be hearing in the chama about so and so whose Johny is ‘dead’! Here’s to the ladies, finally! I will not even feel sorry for you because am sure I will not be the woman to deal with your woes then, you see, my kind of man is too  busy working on how to take care of me and our children in future, not fu***ng aimlessly like some crazy goat! And hopefully, it won’t be my optimistic vajo friend to deal with your ‘dead’ D in Bahamas either! Still thinking of keeping 10 friends with ‘benefits’? Cheers! Here’s to you!

9 MEMORABLE CAMPUS FIRSTS

1.    FIRST NIGHT OUT

First weekend in campus, you have lots of cash from parents, siblings, student loan and what have you. There is a general smell of freedom in the air and everyone is excited about the weekend. You are caught in this hype and off you go out of campus to experience your first night out without having to watch your back for hawk- eyed parents. You do not want to look like a greenhorn so you drink as much as is available and get your first lap dance from some hooker. Nothing good ever comes from this first night. Club brawls on this night leave students seriously injured while for others this is where the angel of death picks them from.

For freshmen, if you are going to have your first experience with alcohol, do not even think of doing binge drinking. Vodkas and any kind of cocktails are a no no. Grab a beer instead and pretend you have a thing for ‘mature’ drinks.

2.    FIRST CAMPUS BASH

Hot on the heels of the first night out is the freshman party that is held in most campuses ostensibly to welcome freshmen to campus. This night campus mafisis hit jackpots while many naïve freshman ladies get the infamous ‘baptism by fire’. That K.U banned this bash should tell the magnitude of damage this event causes. Everything from unprotected sex to outright rape happens on this night. For those who do not meet any misfortune however this night remains a memorable event, from the dancing to good music, they leave full of praises for the campus partying culture.

3.    FIRST CAMPUS CRUSH

You came, you saw, you fell in love bla bla bla… We all know how this kind of story normally turns out. The feeling of being in a sea of members of the opposite sex for the first time and falling for a certain fish however is memorable. The romantic walks around campus with hands held, booking for each other seats in lecture halls, wearing matching clothes (nkt!), sleepovers etc, oh the feeling of innocent love! Both of you swear you are inseparable and fill fb and twitter with childish romantic conversations and pictures. We all know this kind of lovebirds and love to hate on them, right? Well, I wonder why no one still holds hand while in 4^th year.

4.    FIRST ‘BEE STING’

A few weeks ago I came under fire from one of my friends for writing a ‘self- righteous’ piece that apparently hoisted me to the rank of the likes of Angel Gabriel. I will therefore tone down and make a small confession. My fb profile picture at around the time I was joining campus read: ‘Am proud to be a virgin’. Am not laughing so don’t either. I was sure my first ‘bee sting’ would be on some romantic island in the Bahamas- cool sea breeze, floating candles and all. No one bothered to tell me that I would experience the kind of love that would get me ‘giving in ways I would have never imagined to give myself’ before I enter marriage.

For those of us who got that really painful ‘bee sting’ while in campus, let’s all hang our heads in shame. You are lucky if it wasn’t on some small, squeaky hostel bed with a janitor to watch out for. This night is not to be remembered ladies, right? Let me move on to something else.

5.    FIRST HEARTBREAK

For purposes of this piece, bad is the new memorable. Hell hath no fury like a campus heart broken! The drama that follows first heartbreaks is always welcome comic relief especially for the known campus lovebirds that are on everyone’s radar. Sides are taken and the battle line drawn.  On such days you can be sure to get enough entertainment from the two on fb as they publicly air each other’s dirty linen so be sure to purchase enough mb’s!

 If given a chance am sure most of us would handle that first heartbreak the same way or even add a bit of salt and pepper in to it! The adrenaline rush as you exchange expletives at his place and the subsequent drama that characterizes campus break- ups is something to be remembered. Good thing is that everyone else is handling their heartbreaks that way too so there is no condemnation.

Bad for you if it comes during fourth year after wasting a whole four years you could have used to meet lots of other potential suitors on campus not to mention there is no time for drama at this stage!

6.    FIRST LAW ENCOUNTER

Did I frame that right? Ok, your first encounter with the law, precisely the first time behind coolers. Somehow campus life is ridden with many not so good experiences. You go out on a fine weekend to have fun with your friends and the next thing you know is that you’re nursing a nasty hangover at the government guest house with your friends. This is the time you will know who you true friends are seeing as you will have to part with a fine or be thrown behind bars for being ‘drunk and disorderly’ or violating Mututho laws.

Parents are the last people who should ever know about this turn of events. In fact they are never to know and so should the school administration lest they stumble upon your parents contacts and inform them about your jailbird status. The police are not your best friends while on campus; if not at the club they’ll still nab you during a campus riot.

7.    FIRST ‘JANITOR DATE’

There’s always someone watching, if not the police then it’s the snoopy janitor. Some of us have a small problem following rules so the trips to the janitor’s office are endless. From playing loud music, violating the ’10- 10’ rule, cooking in non- designated hostels you name it. We simply cannot enough of the janitor’s wrath.

The first encounter is hair -raising though, the tough talking janitor makes it clear that he’s going to book you on the disciplinary committee and you are reduced to begging for forgiveness before you finally part with a tidy sum for a bribe. Phew! You’ve got to give it up to janitors for knowing how to scare the hell out of naive freshmen.

8.    FIRST TRANSCRIPT

We came to campus primarily to study, right? After you have done all sorts of things to experiment your new- found freedom, the first transcript comes calling. Depending on the nature and extent of your experiments, this transcript is either a wake- up call or an affirmation that indeed you are in campus by merit. You soon realize a ‘D’ is not as good- sounding on your transcript as it is in a bedroom!

You aren’t beyond redemption after first year though, in most campuses first year marks do not count. Get better friends, visit the library more and kick out habits like over- drinking, heavy partying and you will be back on track. Wouldn’t campus be more fun though if someone abolished exams and the likes?

9.    FASHION FIRSTS

Admit it; you were not as fashion forward as you are now when you first joined campus. I know of people who first wore skinny jeans at school and keep them under lock when they go back home. What happened to the nice flowing skirts and dresses that people came wearing in first year? The weave fetish that ladies discover once they do a semester at school? For the gents, those mushaino pastor suits that you used to put on with sports shoes or that same shirt you wore the entire semester? Growth is a necessary thing though; feel good about your new- found sense of fashion. Should we talk about fashion firsts gone wrong on campus? No, let’s spare people that thrashing for today.

CAMPUS BREAK- UP: PART 2

Love breaketh even the strongest of women; just ask Rihanna the story of her life! The smart ones also become stupid for love. I am not talking about that crush you have on your pal’s girlfriend, ah ah. There is this intense feeling of attraction towards a particular person that is so stubbornly persistent and inexplicable at the same time. You are not sure whether to hate the person so much, scream their name, bite them so hard or just sit back and laugh it off! The sort of situation where you are on the brink of going crazy with thoughts because of a person, and  when that person leaves you feel this very painful burning sensation right inside your heart? Shout outs to all who have travelled down this road, you are not alone. Yeah, that is the kinda love I am talking about. This is the situation Sarah had found herself in. Her heart had given into pressure and finally broken into tiny pieces.

Her first impulse had been to wish the whole situation away and keep her head high like a big girl. A post-mortem of the relationship was quickly conducted between her and the girls where statements like ‘men are dogs/they are all the same/he is useless/ you deserve better’ etc were aired freely over copious amounts of alcohol. Hugs were given, tears shed and chocolates eaten to overcome the pain. Names of potential would be boyfriends were floated and it was decided, she would move on immediately! When you are a young lady with endless men knocking at your door daily, there should simply be no time for nursing heartbreaks, grab the next opportunity and move on. That was the common narrative from all of her girls. Girls will always be girls; always having each other’s backs during such situations.

Among the people who had been close to Sarah after the break-up was Rita. She was a friend of hers but like everyone else she had no clue about the affair till then. She would come to Sarah’s room every day, bring her food, walk her to class and in the evening she would stay behind to listen to Sarah’s endless rants and give her a shoulder when she cried. She would always try to keep Sarah cheery with her funny jokes and every now and then she would take her out to the local pub to drown her sorrows with alcohol. This is how it all began; an innocent moment of being there for a needy friend slowly grew into a lesbian passion that was so deep yet so wrong in many ways. During one of the nights when Sarah was inconsolable and crying endlessly at Rita’s place, those nights when missing Steve became too much to bear, things got heated. Rita had been hugging her tightly, telling her to calm down. She suddenly felt this electricity rush in her left boob, it was a ticklish and exciting feeling.  She slowly lifted Sarah up and carefully placed her on her laps.

They kissed slowly at first, almost shyly and guiltily. After sometime things normalized and it was all giggles and passion. Now two girls together sounds like a yummy sandwich, hmmm. They could both tell that they were enjoying it. For Sarah this seemed like just what she had been yearning for to fill the emptiness that Steve left. It was therapeautical. She felt the intimacy that the kissing and touching brought between them and wished that the moment could last forever. That night was the longest yet one of the most soothing for Sarah. They cuddled, kissed and did all sorts of naughty things together all night. They were not drunk; this was a very sober moment for them. Most importantly, they talked not about Steve or the break- up but about them. They were in love! Haha! How appropriate!

Sarah’s life took a sudden new twist. While she had always been reserved and quite principled, things began to spiral. She joined Rita in her endless off campus parties and drinking sprees and to her, she had finally reached. They would party all weekend and sometimes into the weekdays and to keep their affair a secret, they had to do their things out of campus. They were inseparable. Studies had taken the backbench and their priority was to enjoy each other’s company far away from the heartless world of men. Sarah had become hooked to alcohol and their lesbianism acts so much that she could not imagine a life without the two. She had completely forgotten Steve, at least so she thought. No one ever sensed the illicit affair between the two of them, they all knew they were just friends and the fact that Sarah was finally moving on was good news to everyone.

It was during one of those normal Saturdays when Sarah would randomly ‘crash’ at Rita’s place. They were ‘dating’ after all and they were free to visit each other without notice. There was something special about this particular day though, it was Rita’s birthday. She wanted to surprise her and had brought a bottle of Rita’s favorite wine and even personally baked a cake for her. She was looking forward to the night. Rita always made her happy. She was sweet and caring and to her this was something very special. It was around 5 in the evening and she was certain that Rita had no plans for the evening, she would have informed her.

She did not knock. She just turned the knob and walked inside. What she saw was a scene beyond her own comprehension; right there on the same couch where she and Rita had made love for the very first time, lay Rita and Molly! They were not just lying there watching t.v or something but were all naked doing the un-imaginable. How could she? All along she had known that Rita was loyal to her. How then could she cheat on her with the very woman who had made Steve leave her? How could she betray her like this? For a minute there was an awkward pin drop silence, then…

“Listen Sarah, you and I were very special but Molly, she is the bomb! I just wanted to introduce you to this world and help you feel better; I really cannot continue seeing you. Find another chick and move on. Molly and I have been an item for the longest time and it was her idea for me to start dating you so you would leave Steve alone for her. I am really sorry gal”

That is the much Rita said to her. That was one year down their lesbian relationship. Sarah could not handle the magnitude of the news and how casually Rita had delivered it. She dropped everything and left in a huff. It was happening all over again. She thought of herself, her miserable life, her alcoholic nature and her poor exam results due to her reckless behavior and wished for nothing but death. She was deep into the murk, alcohol, the lesbian parties and all. Blackmailing either Molly or Rita would mean trouble for her as well. She wanted to go somewhere far from college and cry her heart out. How could life be so unfair to her? She returned back to her room and took a bottle of Napoleon. It was a very sour moment for her.

She had let people hurt her for far too long. Molly had finally drawn the battle line. It was time to act like a big girl and sort this on her own. She knew better than to trust any of her friends again. She reached for her phone. She didn’t even need to think twice, she knew exactly what to say to him. “Want to see you at your place tonight, missed you baby”. The message was delivered to her ex, Steve. He replied almost immediately. It was going to be another long night; she dressed just as he had always liked it-something short and red; something seductive and provocative. She was going down the same road all over again only that this time; she had only one resolve-to get her heart unbroken by the one who started it all, at whatever cost.

“Un-break my heart,

Say you’ll love me again, undo this hurt you caused

When you walked out the door, and walked out of my life

Un-cry these tears, I cried many nights

Un-break my heart, my heart…”

That was the song that was replaying her in her mind as she left for Steve’s place. It was her final date with destiny.

CAMPUS BREAK- UP: PART 1

“Un-break my heart

Say you’ll love me again, undo this hurt you caused

When you walked out the door, and walked out of my life

Un-cry these tears, I cried many nights

Un-break my heart, my heart…”

Toni Braxton sang these lines in the famous song ‘Un-break my heart’; no doubt all time powerful lyrics for anyone experiencing a low concerning matters love; but this was not exactly what was playing on Sarah’s playlist that fateful morning. How was she to know that such a day would come and include the song on her playlist beforehand? Trey Songz’ ‘Heart Attack’ was playing instead. Anyone who has listened to the song knows how piercing the lyrics are, you could almost smash the radio when the song comes up!

 She could almost feel a heart attack coming. What was to be the most horrendous roller coaster of her life had just begun. Those who have ever experienced a heart break opine that the passion and pain that comes with it can only be compared to death. She had just gotten the text from him. Six cold words that were to see her plunge into emotional trauma and near alcohol abuse for the next three years. “I am done with you Sarah”. That is all he said; it all ended in a snap, just as it had began. She was not crying, but was in some sort of trance; almost as if wishing it was her imagination playing games on her. It was 5 in the morning; she had been up early to read for her exams until when she got the text.

Steve had dated her for almost six months now: by campus standards that can be rated as a mature relationship; one where almost everyone on campus knows that the two of you are an item. But this was not exactly the case with Steve and Sarah. There’s had been a special relationship; the sort that is hidden from the glaring public eye. Just something closely knit between the two of them. It was a Bill Clinton- Monica Lewinsky sort of arrangement. But that was not the issue now, what was disturbing her mind right now was that it was over and yes, it was partly her fault but still she was hurting. It was still a heartbreak regardless of who had caused it. Her love life had been a riot all through and just when she thought she had finally settled down, love pulled a fast one on her.

 She tried to recall the events of the previous night amidst the shock. They had quarreled over an issue; she had consequently done something out of anger; something that was to haunt her for the rest of her life. That is the weakness with women; they cannot hold back once their anger has been provoked. She knew it was over for good. He was not the kind of man that went back on his word. It should have been long over before it started, but she swore she loved him. He knew she had fallen for him so badly and he did all he could to start the relationship with her. She was not sure if he felt the same for her but nevertheless she just wanted him near, her feelings for him almost bordered on obsession; it was this intimate thing that she could not quite explain.

 He did not give her as much as she gave him, but still she just wanted him around.  Not that he was to-die-for or anything, he was just a random guy lucky enough to have two women love him at a go. He was your average player sort of guy. Not so good looking but likeable nevertheless. Unknown to her is that Steve had been using her as a cushion whenever he and Molly had fights, they were always fighting; you see, Molly was Steve’s main girlfriend, everyone knew they were an item but a man has to spread his seeds far and wide, right? That is the main reason he was with Sarah, just for the fun of it but she ended up falling for him. To him she was just one in the many women he was out to have random fun with.

Sarah was not necessarily his kind of girl; he was just not into her. She was a free spirit- the sort that is automatically very interesting in bed. That was just it; the free and randomly enjoyable sex is what he liked. Sex and love cannot however, be synonymous. The former satisfies the physical while the latter takes care of what all women wish for, emotional fulfillment.

 Steve could never love her, hard as he tried, he just could not do it. He wished he could even just a little to reciprocate her feelings towards him but he couldn’t. Molly was trouble; she was full of drama and very clingy but she is the one he loved and could not trade her for anything, not even Sarah; selfish, huh? Molly had been there for him through the most difficult of situations and knew a lot of his family secrets and to him this was a bond he could not just break anyhow; especially not for someone he had known in just six months. Like any kawaida campus guy he didn’t mind having some fun on the side though; he had never intended to make Sarah fall for him.

Sarah had been aware of all this all along: at least he had not lied to her. As she sat on her bed pondering about what had just happened, she was distraught. She could already feel the break up weighing down on her. She hated him for being so selfish and choosing Molly over her. Her female ego could not register this kind of defeat she knew it was going to tear her apart. All she wanted was a chance to show Steve how much he loved him but son of a gun had decided to end things because she had confronted Molly that night and ended up beating her badly.

 She had let herself down. She was the kind of lady who was respected by her peers and was quite smart. This however was about to be put to the very test as she undertook a rough journey of excessive alcohol abuse, tears, drama and lesbianism in an attempt to forget  him and move on.  Will she come out of this in one piece? Will she be able to find herself back after this? Is he even worth all the mess she caused herself? Most importantly, will he ever un-break her heart as Toni Braxton puts it in her song? The plot thickens in the second part coming up …

                                                    

IS CAMPUS DATING EUPHEMISM FOR PROSTITUTION? (With excerpts from Sue Maisha’s ‘Nairobi Nights’)

Not so long ago, before social space was suffocated by blondies like Huddah, there existed a smart hooker called Sue. Her blog ‘Nairobi Nights’ provided for entertaining yet deep and thought- provoking accounts of what twilight girls encounter while in line of ‘duty’. She narrated her K- Street tales with a rare kind of boldness that left moral police scampering for safety while men of different nationalities were attracted to her blog in droves like moths on a light. She broke down her escapades or episodes as she referred to them in a bare- knuckled manner, not as graphic as one would imagine of a prostitution blog but still with a raw creativity and smartness that left most of us glued to her blog.

Her blog profile intro read: “These are thoughts, observations and experiences from my prostitution world. Nothing of the soft, sympathy seeking topsy- turvy kind, but straight talk, hard facts and real anecdotes.”

And so for a year or so she built for herself a successful brand as a ‘prostitution blogger’ and even got sponsorship from some local and international online publishers to write several e-books on sex and prostitution. Sex sure does sell. She claimed to have been a Law student before dropping out in favor of prostitution. She set a personal best record of sleeping with a thousand men in her first year on the streets (she did ten years). Sue however stopped blogging claiming to have quit the streets after finding a regular job.

With the benefit of first- hand info about prostitution from Sue’s blog, I sought to draw parallels between that and what we perceive to be ‘relationships’ in mainstream dating especially within campus.

Excerpts from Sue’s blog will be in red text:

“When you earn a living having sex, like I do, it’s no longer sin. There is nothing to cause the adrenaline rush […] the other day a man in a new Jeep picked me around 10pm [...] “I want to report my wife” he said as we drove to the Central Police Station. The police are not our best friends and wherever possible we keep our distance. But here he was taking me, almost naked and with ‘prostitute’ written all over me, to a police station […] He drove straight to the compound, and parked near a bus whose passengers some two policemen were frisking. We had sex there. It didn’t last ten minutes, but it was the sweetest and most exciting sex I have had in a long time…”

Many of us in campus come from regular Kenyan families where religion and morality are deeply rooted. How many people however call sex between them and their girlfriends/ boyfriends fornication? In a relationship setting in campus, having sex is usually nothing to feel guilty or even give second thoughts about. What makes you different from Sue and her ilk when in a drunken stupor you and your guy decide to romp at a club’s parking lot? Does being in a relationship then make randy sex any different than when it is done by twilight girls? What is the difference between the guy having sex with his girlfriend and the one who picks one from the brothels or streets? Aren’t both driven by a common need for sex?

“There have been discussions about the politically correct way to refer to prostitutes […] The truth is however we don’t give quite a damn about how we are referred […] We actually refer to ourselves and to each other as Malaya; a name perhaps more crude than prostitute. But we are not the only Malaya, very many men in their 20’s and 30’s refer to their girlfriends as Malaya […] the underlying logic is that all women in a way or another are prostitutes. Very few, if any, women would say with a straight face that they never had sex even once with money or security component at the back of their minds. We so called prostitutes are the brave ones to come out in the open and stop beating around the bush; we are in it for the money, the pleasure is secondary…”

There you have it ladies. Sue in her characteristic un- apologetic and non- sentimental fashion bared facts for all of us. Truth be told, most men would rather think of you as their sex toy than their future wife, that’s if there is any glimmer of hope that he’ll end up marrying you. All that men want from you is sex, the rest are just formalities imposed on them by fire- breathing feminists. “Hi Velma, your blog is very creative, I like it!”- He secretly wants to sleep with me. “I like how graciously you walk!”- He’s wondering what other maneuvers my body can do.

Basically the first thing that comes to a man’s mind when a woman is mentioned is sex. And the same way he is sleeping with you is the same way he will pick a girl from the street to sleep with her. Money, money, money! All women light up at the mention of this scarce resource. In college the incentive for sleeping with a boyfriend is normally free regular meals and or drinks, credit, cash and other whatnots. Notice how you normally sulk when your boyfriend shows up at your door with no goodies like some shopping or chocolate?! That is prostitution right there, there is no other way to refer to the act of pegging an incentive on sex. If a girl asks money from a boyfriend and for some goddamned reason he is unable to do so, chances of being denied the honey pot for days or weeks are very real. You are making him pay for it sweetie and that’s prostitution right there.

“Men in their 30’s and 20’s are a weird lot. They are most likely to swindle a prostitute for no good reason other than thinking it is macho to do so. They are also with ego problems. They want a girl to scream, moan and cry in bed […] When a girl is indifferent they feel lesser men […] A man picked me yesterday, near Kengeles, at around one in the morning. We agreed on a figure of two thousand shillings, only to say he only had half the amount […] I wasn’t sure whether he was lying but by virtue of his age, he looked early thirties, probably he was. So I didn’t fake an orgasm, like I usually do. I just stared blankly at the man as he panted, thrusting on top of me. Not a sound left my mouth, my body didn’t twitch and I didn’t smile. It was my way of getting back at him for shortchanging me. As I was clapping inside, looking at him getting frustrated on realizing he wasn’t having an effect on me […] But I have to make good men feel great. I fake the pleasure; I wiggle, get into fits and cry out their name. Do that to a man and he won’t feel a pinch when you ask for more cash […] I have noted men react in two ways when a girl is indifferent… First, the man will dislike the girl and never want to see her again. They dare not bruise their egos again. Second the man might want to redeem himself and his ego by sleeping with the girl again, hoping and praying the girl responds positively […] After our last round of sex and ready to leave I said to him “That your thing disappears inside me, I can’t feel it at all.”

If you truly loved a guy would he ever have to live with the constant fear that he probably doesn’t match up to your sexual expectations and that you’re probably discussing that with your girlfriends? I know of many a frustrated man in college who have been held at ransom in relationships either because their gun shoots at low range or they are kihii. They are too embarrassed to leave knowing that they were lesser men and so they stick around and use all manner of tactics including dishing out cash to cover up for their shortcomings.

 A popular statistic carried out by Lord knows who seeks to hammer the final nail in the coffin by suggesting that 80% of women fake it. Some of my friends confess to faking it for various reasons and love is never part of it. Such women always wait for the guy to push any wrong button like cheating and they won’t hesitate to pull a Sue on them. Why all the manipulation if you claim to be in a relationship? The economics of using that tactic only applies where the desired results should inflict maximum psychological damage to a man while giving a woman an upper hand bargaining position. Hardly sounds like a relationship situation.

“In the formal companies the longer you stay the higher you rise, and the more your pay. In our trade on the streets; the opposite happens; your value decreases as your experience increases. Quoting five years of experience is a turn- off. Many a girl gets to prostitution telling themselves they won’t do it for more than a few months […] But a year goes and another still on the street. The optimal experience is about a year [...] after a year there is a plateau and then the downward curve starts.”

We have all heard of the gold rush that happens in campuses when freshmen join college. What makes men dump their girlfriends in senior classes for freshmen? Why is it that there will be more men running after you while in your freshman year than in final year? Why do women stick to quoting the numbers ‘one’ or ‘two’ when prospective boyfriends inquire about the number of men they’ve slept with? If one is a virgin the easier it is to nail any guy. The parallels in this case are too clear for me to offer any more insight.

While money is good, there is a potential danger if it is the only motivation to get into a relationship. Some liberal women say that sio sabuni yenye itaisha; I beg to differ. After several years or months of sleeping with a guy one does not love (or one who does not love them), it can become both psychologically and physically maxing. Enduring ugly habits like cheating or physical violence all for money is the easiest way to get a front row ticket to hypertension and eventually unhappiness. If sex is the only thing that keeps your relationship going, you might want to refer to yourself as a prostitute, that’s if he hasn’t referred to you as that already.

                                        *****

Am still intrigued by the 80% women that fake it statistic. That means that only 20% of men got game. No comment.