By Albert Nyakundi Amenya
Ahem! I sat next to this girl, itâ€™s the makeup that caught my attention. Wait, did I say the pomade she applied on her face is what made her look more like Peter Marangiâ€™s duracoat advert. The mouth alone looked like she was fresh from drinking blood, the lipstick was too overdone.
The body hugging trouser she had, wait, before you hurl oral stones at me for being a femi-nazi or a misogynist on a moonship of hate, Iâ€™m wondering aloud why single ladies are so many yet single men are all over and polygamy is constitutionalized.
Donâ€™t be confused by statistics from street analysts that ratio of women to men is 4:1â€”thatâ€™s pure balderdash. Nor the argument by women that Kenyan men are dogsâ€”no, no Kenyan man is a canine. Women seem to miss something that unfortunately they are unwilling to learn
Back to the lady I met in the buruburu bound matatu, the perfume alone she sprayed made me doubt if she was a secret agent from the Zimbabwean on a special mission to arrest Tsivangirai. The spray was stronger than teargas, or may be it was a teargas perfume. Then I asked myself; is this a wife material, a girlfriend material or Jezebel material? What happened to our city girls because this was just a macrocosm, a true reflection of our girls?