THOSE NAUSEATING NAGGING FELLOWS.

Mwalimu King’ang’i was right. Kenyan women need watching. I've been watching them for most of my adult life, and I don't like what I see. When these fellows spring at me, I quiver to my toes. Kenyan women come in all personalities, most of them menacing. You've got your "Nayo" kind of woman, your Westland’s kind of woman—don’t mention that she lives in Eastland’s where she was born and bred, your Mpango wa Kando kind of woman, your tsk-tsk kind of woman, your efficiency-expert kind of woman. All of them are dangerous.

In the first place, Kenyan women aren't fun. They don't know how to goof off, at least in the best, man’s point of view. They've always got to be adoing. Give them a coffee break, and they'll spend it in front of a mirror checking their make-up. Supply them with a quiet evening at home, and they'll scrub the floor and dust the entire sealing board. They say things like "Mimi nafanya usafi hapa na wewe kurelax nayo." Kenyan men never say that even if they do decide to clean. They believe that if you clean it up today, it'll just get dirty again tomorrow.

Kenyan women make me tired. They've got speedy little metabolisms that cause them to bustle briskly. They're forever eyeing new problems to "tackle".
Some people say the business about Kenyan men is a myth, that all of us insensitive are pathetic and sad people. I disagree. Kenyan men may not be chortling all day long, but they're a hell of a lot nicer than the wizened and shrivelled. Kenyan women turn surly, mean and hard at a young age because they never learnt the value of things like jam session on Sundays to see the lighter side of things. Kenyan women don't like eating Ugali because they themselves are never strong. They are crunchy and dull, like carrots. They go straight to the heart of the matter while Kenyan men let things stay all blurry and hazy and vague, the way things actually are.

Kenyan women want to face the truth. Kenyan men know that there is no truth. One of my female friends is always staring at complex, unsolvable problems and saying, “The key thing is ...” Kenyan men never say things like that. They know there isn’t any such thing as the key thing about anything.
Kenyan women believe in logic while Kenyan men see all sides. The sides Kenyan men see are rounded blobs, usually gray, always nebulous and truly not worth worrying about. But the Kenyan women are persistent. If you did it in secret decades earlier, they will surface upon your death to demand a share from your millions in paternity suits. Kijana Wamalwa, Samuel Wanjiru and now Mutula Kilonzo.

Kenyan men realize that life is illogical and unfair. They know very well that God is not in his heaven and all is not right with the world. If God was up there, all Kenyan men could always have their nyama choma and beer anytime they wanted it.

Kenyan women have a long list of logical things they are always spouting off to men. They hold up one finger at a time as they reel off these things, so I won't lose track. They speak slowly as if to a young child. The list is long and full of holes. It contains tidbits like "Mbona baba Pipi bado hujanunua gari kama jirani?’’, ‘’get your act together", ‘’pesa ya saloon?’’, "cigarettes kill", and "itabidi ujipange." Phrases like that.

They think these 2000-point plans lead to happiness. Kenyan men know happiness is elusive at best and even if they could get the kind Kenyan women talk about, they wouldn't want it.

Kenyan men know all about the mystery of life. They are the ones acquainted with the night, with luck, with fate, with playing it by the ear. One Kenyan woman I know once suggested that I buy beer and drink while watching an English premier league final game in the house instead of going out with the boys at our favourite spot. She figured this would be safer and economical.

I said I wouldn't do it. One, this is a final we are talking about. Two, I have never watched a game without the company of the boys. I never intend to break the tradition. Three, drinking while watching isn’t the most important thing. The most important thing is the fun me and the boys have while watching soccer while drinking together.

My defiance of her suggestion cost me our friendship however me and the boys are still the best of friends.

The main problem with Kenyan women is they oppress. Long after Kenyan men have removed their coats and shoes and put their feet up on the coffee table, Kenyan women are still standing at the door looking neat as a pin, lamenting about the man’s behaviour. Kenyan men are heavily into fits of laughter, screaming their lungs out while clapping their hands, while Kenyan women are still politely waiting for the punch line.

Kenyan women are downers. They like math and morality and reasoned evaluation of the limitations of human beings. They have their womanish little acts together. They expound prognose, probe and prick.

Kenyan men are convivial. They will like you even if you're irregular and have acne. They will come up with a good reason why your team has never won a trophy for more than half a decade. They will cry in your beer with you. They will let you off the hook. Kenyan men will gab, giggle, guffaw, gallumph, gyrate and gossip. They are generous, giving and gallant. They are gluttonous and goodly and great. What you want when you're down is soft and jiggly, not muscled and stable. Kenyan men know this. Kenyan men have plenty of room. Kenyan men will take you in.

By Kevin Otieno Obiero, edited from That Lean and Hungry Look by Suzanne Britt Jordan.