A haggard-looking pale Caucasian with the countenance of a Boer suffering from moerse babalas confounded the country when he released an album fraught with an array of women he has sampled.
The ‘foreign tourist’ who was out to taste our local cuisine got more than he bargained for- cheap, eager to be eaten delicacies in all shapes and sizes. One who gets to hear of the tale from a chronicler would conjure the image of a s3x god- an amalgam of Idris Elba’s s3xheight and voice, eyes of Michael Ealy, passion of John Legend, the smile and swag of Neyo and the s3x appeal of Michael. B. Jordan but nope, the man at the heart of the hullaballoo can barely hold his jeans to his waist.
So why was he able to get Kenyan women trooping in and out of his bed with the enthusiasm and oomph of soldier ants climbing a desert willow? He is white! Am not racist, but am surprised that years after independence, a typical Kenyan woman still thinks dating a white man places her above the pack; a warped reasoning that can only be obliterated through painful experience like being paraded online like the unprincipled, unsavoury petty goods they have reduced themselves into.
To them, a white guy is an immeasurable upgrade from our blokes, an archetype mentality of simplistic women suffering from daddy issues, marasmus of self-confidence, a mind in manacles and it further underscores the notion that our generation of women has objectified themselves into commodities available to any riffraff with a pale skin or a slightly bulging pocket.
The monomania that Nairobi women have for wazungu men is not a novel issue. With the self-knitted President of single mothers and their favourite celebrity having confessed that she got her wealth from cohabiting with and having babies for some wrinkles and arthritis laden Charlie Chaplin, you can imagine just how the madness has been exacerbated.
And while indeed people have different tastes and some love their men vanilla, this maniac like quest has the walk and quack of myopia- quick money. What also piqued my interest is that ‘Mr. Twist’ was not just able to get the girls that look like they have been harvested straight from Muchatha with overdone cheap makeup, he also netted the hubris oozing so-called independent women. The ilk whose social media bios scream of mundane shit like- sapios3xual, Miss Independent. Wait, Oliver even had married women squirming and writhing under the charm of his pink worm.
It shows you an average woman in Nairobi- and many are indeed average especially in reasoning- is deluded into the conviction that every white man is rolling in mullah.
Behind those kilograms of makeup, grammar, attitude and heels are women dreaming of the day they will bag a white guy who will sweep them off their weaves and fly them abroad and marry them in some romantic, grand wedding by the beach and they’ll start life in a luxurious mansion and make cute ‘pointy babies.’
Armed with this fantasy, they strategize on social media, uploading provocative photos like pedigreed hookers. Even the bible quoting and the allegedly sophisticated damsels will shove their morals into their handbags the moment the pale-skinned tourist or expatiate glances their way.
I have nada empathy for the hoard of shameless leeches, mannerless bimbos that Oliver was shoving his tongue in their mandibles. What a shame that these clique will snob a well-meaning, decent black man for some white charlatan smelling his grave.
Here is the funny part, imagine thinking you are the apple of a mzungu’s blue eyeballs only to see him unleash a list of your co-wives that can fill Matunda bus. That is what you get when you are rotten. Is reputation so expensive nowadays that some women cannot afford even some whim of it?
Damn, it is stupefying how women would defecate on their dignities for the allure of quick money. Come on ladies, you are not getting any younger and the only thing you are riding on is your face or ass. How many white phalluses will be shoved down your throat before you discover that you need a Plan B. Mind trying getting an education? Or business perhaps? No?
Some lessons in life cannot be learnt in lecture halls as you hurtle and scurry from one lecture to another; those women deserved the humiliation and everything else they got. I have been labelled a woman-hater for continuously telling young women it is foolhardy waiting for a man-black or white to be your ticket out of your bedsitter and the aura of penury that engulfs you. Sooner or later you will realize the futility of your actions and by then, it will be too late. Work your way slowly, diligently, smartly, with patience, meritocracy and while relying on your intellect and acumen to make it in life.