The Nairobi Woman

There is something about the Nairobi woman that just sets her apart from any other female homo sapiens sapiensa out there. The typical Nairobi woman is calculating and callous. She is fake. Yes I said it. You can stone me later. The only thing that’s probably true in her is the black and white photo in her national ID. You don’t believe me? Look at her face. It’s covered in so much makeup that it’s difficult to identify the original colour. Now that we are talking about colour she uses beauty creams enough to turn Lupita into the colour of Beyonce.

Her lips are like a cat which dipped her mouth in a pool of blood. In her mind they are appetizing and luscious; moistened and inviting. Kissing her would perhaps be more catastrophic than just drinking chemical infested water from Nairobi River.

She shaves her eyebrows only to make a mark with a pencil where they were. The good thing with her shaving obsession is that the right places are clean too. Supreme Leader Aladeen Motherfucker of Wadiya will tell you hairy armpits isn’t man’s best friend.

Her nails are long and well kept; probably covered in a distinctive red or pink nail polish. Of course they are not natural nails; these are nails that can be got in the beauty shops of downtown Globe roundabout. She has piercings probably on the lower lip, the ears and on the umbilical cord and lower lip for the more audacious ones. She has enough earrings of varying shapes and colours that can last her a lifetime even if earring companies decided to close shop. The Nairobi woman spots wigs and weaves of all arrays. They don’t like calling them so. They prefer referring to those things they put on their head as natural Brazilian hair or some other fancy names.

The Nairobi woman has an accent; A deep black American accent. It doesn’t matter whether she’s from Ukambani or from Nyeri and the closest to America she’s ever got is by wearing a Boston Red Sox Jersey she picked after a half day of haggling in Gikomba. Her favorite words are ‘you know’, ‘cmon’, ‘as in like’,’ for real men’ etc. She has that flirty look that can make a devoted man of the clock not think twice about trashing the vows he took. Don’t get me started on her Linda Okello. Wait, you don’t know what Linda Okello is? Siwaambii. Nyinyi sasa naona tumeanza kuzoeana. as I was saying there’s nothing real about those behinds that grace our streets. I hear you can buy asses in Nairobi. I’m imagining how you tell the shop attendant,

“We nifungie rasa mbili biggi,usiniekee zile xa china leo”

And then you proceed to bargain……ai yawa….ma tek

The last time this woman tasted a home cooked meal is when she visited shags. Did I mention she doesn’t know how to cook? I think I’m exaggerating a little. She knows how to cook tea and boiled eggs and probably rice using a rice cooker. Anyway cooking is overrated. I mean why would someone eat chai chipo mwitu at home when there are dozens of men scavenging her like a piece of gold. Men who have the means to take her to the Hiltons and the Nevadas of Nairobi for a bite of chicken, fish and chips? For the less endowed men there’s of course terrific Tuesdays to look forward to put a strong cause for thy love.

She spots a slight bump on her tummy. Word on the street is that they are called ghorofa. They are not pregnant. Just a small prize they have to pay for their nutrition habits.

The Nairobi woman guzzles Vodka the same way Boka swigs his tea. You will be forgiven for mistaking her as a native Russian. She will not surprisingly mention the Jamesons and the Cirrocs of the world when you are with her but trust me whenever she’s alone she partakes of the stronger stuff. Stuff like Bluemoon. Dry. Soda is for sissies.

Her favourite music is soft rock and cool soul. That’s what she says. I hear it’s supposed to give her some aura of trendiness. If you have a chance to look at her memory card Seventy percent of the songs are riddims and reggae. I’m not obviously saying there’s anything wrong with these two genres of music.

All Nairobi women have boyfriends. Their boyfriends either left for Canada for further studies or to South Africa for some job thing. Third date later and whispering sweet nothings to your ear you’ll be wondering what happened to their loves. Don’t kid yourself Alejandro. It’s not your lines that are that strong. She’s just playing the game.

Her favorite sport is rugby and she follows the weekend actions everywhere in this country. This weekend she is in Masaku, next weekend she’ll be in Nakuru and yet just last weekend she was in Kisumu for the Dala Sevens. That’s just a façade. She doesn’t follow the game because she’s passionate about sports. She doesn’t cheer because of the awesomeness of the handoff or the penalty or the side step or the try, the game is about the after party. And doesn’t the Nairobi woman know how to have a good time! Their stunts would actually put to shame the great sin cities of soddom and Gomorrrah. You would actually wonder if they have parents. Hey, I’m not judging. I may actually be worse.

arent they adorable?

The Nairobi woman sees no need for sustainable family planning or even condom use. Why bother when the E Pills are readily available in chemists and have no VAT imposed? In any case she knows some doctor in Kawangware should push come to shove.

She walks in packs just like a bunch of lioness going to hunt. In this group there’s usually the most outspoken one. She’s the one who acts as the spokesperson. She knows everything unimportant going on around the Metropolis from the Oktoberfest, to the coolest gigs. One would think she’s in the entertainment industry. Wait, I forgot she is. This queen makes it difficult for anybody to actually express their deep attraction for a member of her crew without her express permission. It’s unspoken who the boss is but it’s loud and clear. Just look for the one who’s trying too much.

In the animal kingdom when a hunting pack gets a prey they share the meal. The case is true with these hunting packs. Oh yes, you are the prey, they are the hunters. Let’s not confuse roles here. When you dating a lady in a pack you are the group’s property. She’ll probably invite you in the name of meeting her friends but they always be there even ten dates later. Judging you, studying you and making sure you are the right one for their girl. And what better way to prove you are worthy than to quench their insatiable appetite for the bitter stuff. Thank God for Mshwari Loans otherwise watu wangechonga viazi for these ratchets. By the way do people still chonga viazi in this modern technology?

Her fashion sense is just so heightened. It doesn’t matter whether it is drizzling or the heavens have opened up and it’s raining cats and dogs. This woman would always be in a short skirt, a hot pant or one of those shorts that even hockey girls would not wear to a match. And trust me they can be sexy when they want to. Have you seen Jedi in one? Trust me you need to. If she’s in a dress then there’s a very high probability that it is a bareback and the tailor ran out of materials. To them pneumonia or those acute respiratory infections due to cold are just figments of imagination by their haters.

You would be forgiven to think there is a county uniform. Nearly everybody is in animal print dress or trouser and matching sunglasses never mind its July and the sun is somewhere in Soweto. She’s usually in high heels even though it’s obvious she’s struggling to locomote.

She has those huge handbags that have everything from clothes enough for a weekend, from an extra pair of shoes, to scarves, sanitary towels, beauty tools, and extra weaves just in case…loaves of bread and anything you’ll need to survive. Did you think they are called ntalala wapi for no reason? You never know when you’ll be back home and it is naturally wise to carry all you’ll need.

She wears g strings/ thongs for pants on those days that she’s feeling a little religious. The other days she just lets her goods get the desired fresh air. Wearing mother’s union inner wears is very archaic and so 19^th century. The only thing allowed from this century is Chelsea football club. 

The Nairobi woman has haters. This are people who in her mind hate her guts and jealous of her to the core. These are wannabes who according to her would not hesitate for a second to switch places with her. You know how it is when you are successful and suddenly haters wanna bring you down? What doesn’t occur to her is that nobody in their right mind envies her. The right word would be pity.

Her name maybe Yvone Achieng or Lucy Wainaina but that remains just on those birth certificates and the church register in some church in kaburengo, the village of Alfayo. The Nairobi woman doesn’t have those mediocre names. She’s either Effersons Justice, Blacksnow Alice, Sweetness Angel (I still love u prude) or one of those names that make a brother pause and look at the profile picture. It goes without saying that your MBs would have been spent to better use.

They have a huge social following, these women. Their Facebook statuses are usually in IMAX, JKIA or some of these classy places. They get twenty likes just by sneezing. Men with insatiable appetites are always trying to outdo each other on her wall. She’ll pretend she doesn’t like that attention from time to time but deep down she knows she needs this validation. Her feeling of self worth is fickle and legions of admirer serve to remind her everyday that she’s pretty. Some of these men’s statements certainly gross exaggerations and pure lies. But stretching the truth for affection is what we men were born to do. Especially those of us who don’t drive. When your strongest point is not the fiscal front you need to be quick with your tongue or your hands to compete favorably. Flattery is thus just a natural adaptation necessary for survival of the broke man.

I’m exaggerating as always….Nairobi women are cool, fun loving people and great company.

I’m out.