Growing up, the boy child is inundated with words of encouragement to be competitive. When not being told how you should never cry, you are constantly under threat of being “demoted”, at least in the eyes of some useless grownups, to a girl. Such threats to demote a boy are carried out in terms of asking you not to perform worse than a girl would do: “Umepata 60% kwa hesabu? Na mschana wa kwanza alipata ngapi?” If the lady got any higher marks, you would be “demoted” there and then. So you grow up fearing the demotion so much you fair rather well almost everywhere. You also become very competitive with other things that are not exactly important. Y’all have been through the situation where your parents are summoned to school because you were in a fight. In your father’s eyes (and in some special mother’s), you were not supposed to lose a fight even in school. Only question once your “RAW is WAR” adventures in school was duly noted would be, “Ulishindwa?” An answer refuting such claims would be met with an invisible smile and a mental hi five from your father because your mum was not supposed to know the code. A loss would earn you a real “RAW is WAR” session from him… But this is not the kind of useless competition I will tell you about in a short while.
There are useless competitions boys engage in that involve offending the others’ olfactory systems with chemical weapons your body develops after digestive processes are complete. It wasn’t odd to find a mentally healthy boy jumping up in front of another and emptying the gaseous contents of their tummy there and then just to offend the others (it still isn’t, I think). In fact, this habit is carried forward to adulthood in our marital beds where sometimes you just let one rip and laugh at the “exercise” as if you have accomplished a feat like helping the US land the Mars Rover on the sun, or where was it to land again? Ruffneckess doesn’t find it amusing but got with the program a long time ago. She sometimes lets one out and we cheer. She is rather craftier with her weapons though – She probably uses them elsewhere. Any time we take a walk outside and she informs me to “Enda tu mbele natembea polepole nikikam”, I know the people walking behind her are about to get it rough. But that is still not what I am focused on telling you about today, wapenda hekaya.
You see, back in the day, there was this msupa in the estate. The one that featured unknowingly in many a boy’s dream but never materialized in their real life as anything more than being the sight for sore eyes that she was. Whatever I had done to her in my dreams are despicable things that I shall not reveal in this forum. Those were neatly folded and carefully placed in the “we shall not revisit this shit” folder in my memory. I can only say that they are a healthy boy’s perversions. So this particular day I was going about my biznis when I met her somewhere not far from the estate. Said hi and chatted her up a little, after which I bade her bye and walked home. On getting home, I ate my food and relocated to the DSQ which my older bro and I had converted to our sleeping joint since we thought we had outlived sharing the same roof with wazazi. Some slow music and I snoozed.
Woke up to a noisy room. My bro had changed the channel from the slow music to some loud ass rap music. Kidogo kidogo, the devil convinced us to start tearing up the place with mshuto. And as competitions go, someone had to be the winner. Remember how boys were taught never to lose? Yea, lunch ilikuwa githeri and our stomachs were sparring vibaya. The room was cooked up… and guess what happened next? Someone knocked at the door. Big bro walks confidently towards the door and the msupa I had chatted up earlier is standing right there! Being the clever guy he is, bro opens the door wider and allows her in, then leaves, never to come back… I look around confusedly, and rightfully so, since I was in the process of arming the barrel with the most potent of farts, and I had to abort procedure there and then. My nose confirms that indeed, the place reeks like hell, and I too leave, bare-chested, running towards the main house… To date, I am not sure if she was caught up in the “nuclear cloud” or not. See how stupid competitions complicate things for the boychild? Now how was I to remember that I had promised this msupa movies? Chidwo chitani!
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Ruffneckes(a) doing her thing!
kama hainuki perfume/cologne wacha tu ikae ndani ya mwili