Thursday, 29 September 2016


Hello.My Name is M'mugwika M'raini.And i  have nothing against you.Nothing.Why would i be.I'm not anyone you'd look at twice.In fact,my background is bananas,nappier grass,cows that kept 'pooing' where they were supposed to sleep and more bananas.First time i saw a sky-scraper,i was twenty.And that was The K.I.C.C,Nairobi,where when looking up,i felt either the clouds were moving a bit too fast or the darn thing was coming down on me.I went to lower primary school barefoot,not because my folks couldn't afford decent footwear,but because shoes were outlawed in my school,in an attempt to curb an imaginary divide,between 'privileged' kids and the 'not so privileged'.My only encounter with a Boeng 747,which is how you travel Business Class to that social function in Singapore,is through the movies.I still don't know how to dine in five star hotels and i've never quite understood why a sane man will abandon the legendary spoon for the chopsticks.I don't even know how they are held,or why there are all these weapons on my table when all i  need, is to scoop my food. Something i can easily do with my fingers and,when too hot,my spoon.

 So you see.I would have no reason to harbor any ill feeling towards you.You are way above my league.But i do have reasons to believe that i own a brain that works pretty well.And save for a few mishaps here and there in my past, (And even those were caused by veve,a stimulant grown in my county,and Senator Keg beer,a brew that is made of whatever is left after they have made Tusker,i hear),i have not been known to walk around town minus my entire thought unit.And its from that unit,that i derive these few concerns that surround you and people like you.

The Transformation.

First time they took your picture,and placed it in my weekend newspaper pull-out,i thought you looked beautiful.Your hair was great,even to a naive guy like me.Your teeth looked naturally healthy and that smile real.Even your out fit was stunning,if you ask me.You looked real,even believable.Then someone placed on you the tag 'socialite' and you abandoned the outfits for the skimpy wear that only falls short of revealing the unmentionable.But because,as i said,some of us may have functional brains, my imaginations are stirred every time they put your picture on my magazine or when someone uploads your video online,dancing(Funny how you dance..only your waist moves,and your audience sits strictly behind you).But i've been made to understand that, that is actually the intention(To stir our imaginations to toxic levels) so i should either shut my unsophisticated mouth or relocate to Mars.To Mars because i hear you've now gone global and there's no hiding from you.Even The Arab Royal families now invite you to grace their lavish birthday parties,i hear.And i believe it because,the other day,i saw you playing with a tamed lion in some Riyadh Palace,belonging to a renowned oil tycoon.Yet for all her efforts,they never did the same for Mother Theresa.Or Wangari Maathai,despite putting her life on the line to save the planet,for a thankless human race.Its you and that tall American,who walks like a giraffe with a knee handicap on a catwalk,Naomi Campbell.

Those days,they would take your pictures from the front,just like the rest of us.But now they will only snap away if you turn,to reveal your ever-growing backside. And then you have to look back ,or we wouldn't know who it is.Now all our girls have abandoned being photographed from the front,and they all do it while turning around,then looking back as if they forgot something where they are coming from.These things i don't understand.And i'll hold you personally responsible if any of our daughters dislocates her midriff,in an attempt to emulate you.

The Querries.

 Many times i've heard people wonder why your skin keeps getting lighter.Or why your backside keeps threatening to break out,increasing in size every six months.And i try to make them understand that its no fault of yours,that for some people,some body parts keep growing in size,even after you have hit thirty.Other parts keep changing in complexion,like your skin.It happened to Michael Jackson,now its happening to you.Some conditions are only for the affluent,i guess.That's why to date,no such occurrence has been reported in Turkana,which explains why the Health Department remains largely un aware of it..But these people keep saying that you actually spend a fortune making the changes yourself.

Now,this is where it gets risky and hence my concern.Take one look at Dolly Parton and you'll see what i mean.Am not saying the same is going to happen to you when you hit seventy like she has.Am saying its going to happen to you earlier,like in your thirties,at the exact time you want to make some babies,and even Matendechere, the hand-cart puller, will take quite some convincing to come anywhere near you.So here i'll say this to you;go easy on the knife.If you are not being 'cut',like a true Mumiiru man,then avoid going under all these knives.You may accuse me of poking my nose in other people's affairs hivi least,its my nose and i run no immediate risk of having to collect it from the floor like Michael Jackson,having fallen off in the shopping mall.

'The Hators'

Then there are these men(And women) who keep asking what it is that you actually do for a living.They seem to be under the impression that everyone needs to work,if they are not Paris Hilton.Or if their Dad isn't Lewis Hamilton's employer,meaning they own major high stakes in some Formula One Racing team.They assert that no one born in rural Msambweni can just have free tickets to every party in the world.Maybe its time you told them what else you do,apart from being a 'socialite'.So they can stop peddling all these lies.

Like when they say that if all you do to make the big bucks,is show up at some party graced by oil tycoons's children,then there is a name for that profession and its not nursing.That the profession is not even studied in any college in the world,even American ones, where kids will get a Distinction in English,then rush in droves to google, for the meaning of the word 'stamina', when it shows up in their presidential debates.But these are unpolished men and women who don't understand basic civilization principles,like outlawing ogling by men at women,then turning around and legalizing gay marriages...make it as hard as possible for a man to show interest to a woman,while only falling short of endorsing 'gayism',as the new "classy,trendy".So maybe you should dismiss them with that word you throw at all who fail to agree with your choice of weave(Or is it wig)-'Hators'. Not that i know who those are,no.Its just that you utter that word more than you utter 'am like' and 'as in...'. And it would be the ideal word because its the same one you label all those who dare ask dumb questions like what University in this planet you went to,and who saw you there,apart from God and yourself.As if one can't attend university in outer space,if they have the means.

But here,i agree with some of their sentiments.I know nothing goes for free in this world.I know that no man gives a girl a free ride to Monaco to watch the Grand Prix (Something she knows nothing about,but will cheer every time their 'Beau' does so) in his 30-Meter yacht,expecting nothing in return.There has to be a way through which you pay for all those treats.And it can't be money,because these guys have more money than Djibouti's entire running budget for the next millenium.I may be from the bush,but still a man nevertheless and i know how our minds are wired.Even the Pastor is no exception if he is human.Its just that he's learnt not to do what his carnal male mind is instructing him to do,he's learnt to keep his hands,both of them on the steering wheel while driving his Choirmaster's wife home,from that event.The problem with paying these playboys that way,(We both know which way) is if a girl with a bigger butt and lighter skin shows up,that's your cue to move to Malawi.Because to them,you are a memento,a souvenir,part of a collection of some sorts.You've been objectified,you are in a chess game and you don't even know the rules. Because the rules are of no use to you-you being any of the 32 objects being moved about on the board.The only way they win accolades from their peers is if they keep nailing the latest,the least used,the newest in their circles.That's why i chose Malawi for you,because that's the same place they are growing lots of tobacco and once they are through with you, you'll need it to,at least,make your own cigars,a complete departure from the Cuban ones you held just a few years back.That cigar,in Kajiampau where i may come from,we call it 'kiraiku'. And that's not the other name for shisha, no.

So,Miss.Here's my unsolicited advice..get out while you still can.Quit while on top,as they say.I know its hard but it can be done.If Size 8 ditched chanting lewd phrases on stage,which passed for music, for the pulpit,then nothing is impossible for a determined soul. Quit because all humans hate slavery and that's what you've become-a light-skinned slave with a Rolex watch.But you'll say, that's better than being free and having none.And you will do with your body as you please and those who have a problem with that 'can go hang'.(See?.I know all your phrases!) I disagree.At the risk of sounding all 'churchy'(Gosh!.He's going God on me!.Who does that anymore!?),your body is actually worth every honor and respect that God bestowed upon it.You are simply the custodian of it,it doesn't belong to you.He loved you,so He gave you the honor of seeing to it that its well taken care of.Do it and all shall be well.Ignore,and you'll have an expiry date,just like all consumable goods on the shelf.And the one who sees things about you which no one else does,the one from whom you can't hide all your pain and tears,which you privately shed in that gold-themed apartment in Burj Khalifa's 160th floor,will guide you home,gently,with his loving eye.He'll welcome you home with a smile,erase your past in a flash and usher you to a place,a level,where all the lies and the 'smoke-screens' will only appear as a tiny, little dot,in the far horizon.Good Luck,Ma'am.

1 comment:

Unknown said...

Well said George. Hope the ma'am gets to read this. I have always wondered...what is this new career called 'socialite'?