Friendships is one of those things I take seriously. It’s a pact – to the death – not a train you can jump on and off at any station. You don’t quit friendships, you don’t get tired of a person’s incessant whines, you don’t grimace when they take off their shoes and a pungent smell fills the room, you don’t take no for an answer when you send shots their way in a club, you watch out for their backs, you are ready to swing into action at their slightest provocation, you pretend to be friends with their girlfriends but are secretly doing recon on the down low and when they are serious about them you become likable – you make them feel included and wanted and a part of your friendship. You let their opinion matter and even lend an ear from time to time explaining the intricacies involved in dating your friend. When they leave? You forget about their existence but keep her number to to use against your friend when he decides you’re not worth that extra round of beer. So basically you ride or die for a friend.
Ours isn’t one of those friendships that begun at the university. Two clueless souls levitating towards each other to find solace in the confusion. Ours dates way back, way before having a best friend and a wing man was cool. Way back when we’d get into trouble for using offering money to buy ball gums and get an earful for giggling at the back of Sunday school at some stupid joke we cooked up. Ours became more than a friendship, it transcended into a brotherhood.
This is the guy who introduced me to writing. It was a random thought. An afternoon whiling away on video games trading stories on our funny and sometimes dramatic encounters. “Why not write about it?” he asked. Like that we birthed our first ever blog and this journey begun. I took up the mantle and ran with it. Him? Not so much.
So recently (read today morning) I asked him to do a piece for my blog. I asked at around 10 AM and by 12 PM the piece was done and sitting in my inbox waiting for approval. You might notice some striking similarities in our writing but we go through the same experiences and have been friends so long it feels like we are an old married couple. I feel I’ve done enough introducing let the luo guy indulge you in his from birth eloquency – gang, meet Cy Borg – he gets the 200th post on #TheRackster
It’s not a misnomer when people say that it’s a rat race out there to find the right person. Because needless to say, that’s what most of us end up settling for RATS, RATS, RATS!
Listening to a bachelors take on the behavior of women in Nairobi is a jaw dropping experience. A pal of mine is currently in a forced “come we stay” situation that has too many twists and turns and just like most of you out there when it comes to selection, perception is everything, from the way that she dresses, to the state of her wig, to the size of her breast cup and the extent and depth of her ass. Men go weak at the sight of that shit and these Nairobi women have perfected the art of seduction. Forget the fifty shades of grey shit, these Nairobi women have taken it to the next level. Wearing their extremely short, tight and revealing dresses prancing around the city center in their six inch heels casually talking about how men view them only as objects and not as people and how they are dogs. It’s ironic really about how easy it is to trap the male species and the comparison to dogs is undeniably accurate.
So this guy fell into this trap, let’s not use trap because it was a mutual agreement and no sooner than later things got serious and the girlfriend started to sleepover more often. This was her way in. She started bringing in her toothbrushes and clothes to the guy’s apartment until it became a Sunday to Sunday affair. She started leaving make up bags and rings and her earrings all over the place to mark her territory and like all women started taking his jumpers and sweaters with her. Personally, I do not understand this obsession; all I am just saying is if you want some XXL sweaters I know a shop that sells em cheap for real. Because my jumper and I are like bros, we have been through so much together. All those late nights at the night club, endless hour at the gym and it was there for me on those days I wanted to hide outfits that didn’t match (even on a hot day). Then came the official move when she brought her weaves over to his house and my nigga that’s when you know you are screwed!
Eventually the “always and forever ” Roses and flowers honeymoon period passed and then came the arguments and the hate. Then came in the Kenyan antics, the kind of stuff that you wouldn’t even see in a fiction movie. When the guy used to leave for work, the chick used to bring over strange men everyday and engage in casual sex in this guy’s house. And being in a country without hidden camera shows, the truth eventually came out, the old fashion way, ASKARI WA GATE. So here he is unable to kick the chick out because she says that she will commit suicide and being the soft guy he is, he is stuck in this situation unable to “grow some balls” and do something. She is living there currently. Rent free, eating his food, asking him for money daily to buy stuff. Basically a RAT! Actually, its worse it’s like a guy walked into your house fucked your wife, urinated all over your sheets and you come home kiss him on the forehead and feed him.
So here I am, in a bar chatting up some lady, 25, absolutely stunning, brown skin just like I like them, great conversationalist, hard working, killer smile and assets from here to Timbuktu and being the dog I am, I am ready to take my rat home, not giving a damn about what she could turn into.