My view about men in general is quite shallow. I am no man to know them in and out anyway. More clouded is my view about city boys.
Before being born, their mothers were too delicate and went to their gyna every 2 days and he would monitor keenly how baby’s pulse was, if his position was okay and if mum’s health was okay too. 1 week to delivery, their mothers camped in Aga Khan Hospital with a multitude of doctors running if she sneezed or coughed. Baba Toto sat next to her with anxiety. You would think a messiah was on his way to save mankind or the man who will discover cure for HIV.
So baby was born under observation of 10 midwives in white coats, googles, stethoscopes, white gloves and all medical paraphernalia. They grew up eating wheetabix and had a nanny from a reputable agency, who spoke English, “baby, come to auntie” “baby hug auntie” “baby do you want cornflakes?” They grew up differently from how the men I know were brought up in the village. Those ones who, when their mothers were heavily laden, they still walked to the market and labor pains caught them unawares. They grew up under the mercy of siblings, neighbors and community at large. Their mother would leave for work and deposit them at their neighbor, who would also leave and deposit them at another good Samaritan’s home. The boys ate soil, occasionally get infested with worms and get de-wormed.
Back to my comparison between those boys brought up in the city versus those brought up in the village:
City boys have high standards of the women they are to date. They love ladies who wear heels, use red, blue or some outrageous shade of lipstick.They are very drawn to working class women who drink expensive wine and eat exotic foods like choucroute garnie, tripoux, soupe a’ l’oignon among others. They love classy women. They are the quick ones to say woman are gold-diggers. Those one brought up in the village just want nothing much but a woman who cooks, dresses decently and has morals. They are shocked why women use lip sticks in the first place and frown at women who drink alcohol.
When a city boy takes you for a date, he will be too pre-occupied with how you behave and if you are exposed. Do you play poka? Which dessert is your fav? You need to eat with forks and knives, use the napkin… a village boy will care the least if you wash your hands and eat without forks or your cutlery falls. He is a free bird.
The browse history of a born tao is perplexing. Cars, movies, movie stars, most beautiful women alive, how to detox, Victoria secret, male models, clothes and food. Their counterparts brought up in the village have a browse history of a kind. Ghana’s oil crisis, Jack the Ripper, how to clear a back-end error, implications of Brexit, documentary about gunpowder, Nelson Mandela and above all, football.
City boys keep up with the fashion trends. One day, you find him in harem pants, next in skinny jeans, suffocating their small manhoods, next in a funny top reaching knees, next you find them all covered up in maasai sheets (isn’t this our mothers’ thing kujifunika leso?) Next you’ll find him in stripped socks. They will tell you about Ankara, vintage and how you would have looked better with pink chiffon and a white necklace. Or tell you to accessorize your look with a white scarf. They know all make-up used by women and will tell say look better in blue eye shadow, not green. Their village counterparts will see you and notice nothing odd. Whether you are in kitenge, skirt or jeans and t-shirt or a school uniform, they will giggle at how smart you are and will detect your ass is big even if you are wearing a dira.
They have a blinded view about sex and think of wine, roses, beach, candies like whites do and want to replay movies. Kiss slowly, then lift you to bed, the slowly undress… just annoying crammed western routine. Predictable. They even shower after the stupid act. Their counterparts brought up in the village will enter your house and manhandle you, panting and making you crazy too. They grossly tell you how much they want you and throw you to bed like luggage and descend on you dangerously, working on you like it is a matter of life and death. If he remembers, he will hold you afterwards. If he won’t, he will snore heavily after telling you you were great. Full stop.
They talk about pizza so heartily and know all offers in Debonairs, Chicken Inn and Pizza hut. You will find them so psyched up to go out for pizza or ice-cream. And meet their friends in fast food joints or expensive hotels. On the other hand, their village counterparts are devouring ugali and managu, praising whoever invented ugali. They meet their colleagues in affordable hotels or other normal choma joints or some pub. High chances are they have, in fact, never tasted pizza as we speak.
…to be continued on 29th Aug