It’s a Kenyan man’s world: Love is for the wife, fun for the lover

It’s a Kenyan man’s world: Love is for the wife, fun for the lover

I take it some things are unique to the Kenyan sub-species of the human race. No two things are the same; if they are, the environment around them shapes them into different things. Even identical twins end up into different people with the passage of time. I take it the Kenyan male has evolved into something of a contradiction as a result of environmental influences.

I am the least qualified to talk of the Kenyan male because I am afflicted by whatever has smitten the sub-species. On the surface, the average Kenyan male craves for a decent woman for a wife. Decency here is defined in terms of clothing, behaviour and aspirations.

The mark of a decent woman, to the Kenyan male, is in her dressing. Whatever her attitude, a woman’s decency can be measured by the length of her skirts. Anything above the knees betrays not mere indiscretion but certain harlotry. A woman’s thighs are only for her husband’s consumption not flagrant advertising. Any telling curves should not be draped in tight-fitting clothes. There must be sufficient space between flesh and textile for the woman to fit into the realm of decency. These things are wanted of all good wives.

Careers make good wives but it is the joy of motherhood that crowns a woman’s life. It is easy to tell what the world around thinks of you as a woman in Kenya. The matatu touts are best suited to express the view of the Kenyan male where female decency is concerned. The touts are not exactly what every Kenyan male aspires to be but have a knack to act in a manner so representative of the species. Touts, not too shy to express themselves, inadvertently express the thinking of the male species towards women.

“Oh, sasa sweetie. Mamboo? Bado mtu mmoja tu. Karibu, jibambie seat ya mbele,”  the tout might say. (Oh,  my Sweetie. How is you? There is just one seat left. Welcome, grab the front seat.)

The woman suffering such welcome is probably in tight jeans, tight clothing, revealing clothing or all the aforesaid. She is, in the eyes of the tout, sexy or easy or both. If she so much as hesitates or smiles she can expect a welcoming hand to land on her- most likely on her bottom. She can look forward to the male passenger next to her to doze off soon after the journey starts. His hands and limp neck will find ready comfort in her lap and shoulder. She is, in eyes of the Kenyan male, every man’s woman. This ungentle treatment arises from her dressing.

The welcome varies somewhat in other circumstances.

“Madam, ya haraka- ya haraka. Karibu seat ya mbele,” the tout might say.        (Madam the quickest van, the quickest- take the front seat.)

The tone and choice of words indicates a different perception likely brought on by the ‘madam’s’ choice of dress. If she is in a knee-length dress or suit, she qualifies to be called ‘madam’. In Kenyan-speak, ‘madam’ is the revered school teacher not the kind found in European brothels.

A more reverent tone waits if she is of certain age or happens to be with a child.  To the Kenyan men all women accompanied by children are mothers. The same applies to women of middle age. They will be called ‘Mama’ with all the attendant disinterest this word entails. Damned be the day if she is actually with child. A woman with child invites bad luck and is not to be slighted. Of course once in a while you come across a tout or a man with a blurred mind. He ends up mixing up all the stereotypes.

So a good Kenyan man with his good, uninteresting wife at home will get cosy with a sexy, cheeky-eyed gal in a ‘mat’. The trick is to get into a position where you can give her your phone so she can dial her number. Technology, both textile and cellular phone technology, never made things so easy. Textile technology invented the identifying marker of ‘every man’s girl’, and cellular technology made it easy to track her anywhere in the world. 

A journey through the pubs in any Kenyan town reveals the dilemma of the Kenyan male. He is at ease and happy cuddling a foxy, delicate woman oozing sex from all ends in these surrounds. He will do the unthinkable- spoiling her with booze and suggestive behaviour. The prying eye of his colleagues is one of approval and probably wicked desire. He does not mind it- decency is best left at home in the safety of the wife’s bosom. The fun is a privilege available to the illicit lover. It is almost a crime for a woman to be over thirty in these places. Those outside this age bracket struggle to look the part.

How can the same man want two diametrically opposed things? A drab or at best disinteresting woman for a wife and a sexy twenty-something for a lover- in total disregard of conventional wisdom. I wish I could blame the genes or the Theory of Evolution.  Something in the Kenyan environment or the diet makes males act in this way. The common excuse is ‘the women like it’- like their ancestor Eve. Most likely it is just a male thing.