By NJOKI CHEGE
A man’s car is like a secret love. And like a secret love, you do not wear her around your arm and take her to public events. You enjoy her sweetness in quietness. You relish her velvety caramel skin in a dimly lit bedroom, dripping with the perfect romantic ambience.
If the man is Samson, his hot car is his Delilah, his dazzling mistress, with whom they share intimate secrets that can bring empires tumbling.
Which is why I don’t understand why a man who is fast hurtling into his fifties does not grasp this simple, yet profound concept.
Why a grown man would make a complete fool of himself on social media and post a picture of his secret love. Why he would wear it around his arm, his beloved mistress; the Range Rover Sport HSE 2016 model for all to see.
Today I shall take one for the team and school a hotshot, showy lawyer for a few minutes. Because such peculiarities — this shameless display of fortune on social media — are never a good sign for a man above the age of 20.
What is it that this ageing lawyer is trying to prove? Could be — like most men of his short stature — that he is trying to overcompensate for his lack of height with a big car that announces his arrival?
Who is he trying to impress? The washed out socialites or the TV bimbos who were falling over themselves to hitch a ride in the car?
This lawyer should know that wealth is quiet. Wealth does not announce its presence on social media nor does it have the intrinsic need for approval.
Poor, on the other hand, is flashy. Only a poor man feels the need to litter our social media timelines with pictures of his cars and his food.
Only a man with an IQ of a lobotomised warthog would feel the need to take pictures of his mother’s house for his Facebook friends to see.
Keep your minor achievements to yourself. So what if you fly business class? There are men in this town who have not flown commercial since you were a poor primary school boy with shorts ripped at the bottom.
Nobody cares if you are driving a limited-edition car, or where you spend your birthdays or how often you host orgies. Our president and his mother own literally half the country na hawatusumbui.
We don’t really care if you are ‘boys’ with the Deputy President. There are men in this town on the president’s speed dial and they don’t spam our Facebook timelines with photos captioned “Today I met with my friend the Deputy President”.
A man your age should know better. A man who is closer to fifty than forty could do more with a little wisdom. Men your age don’t behave like teenage boys who have just discovered the other uses of petroleum jelly.
Your peers, my friend, are raising families and marrying off their daughters. Your peers are settling in their retirement homes — tucked somewhere in the midst of hundreds of acres in Timau.
They are not hosting socialites and TV bimbos with bouncy weaves who only God knows where they have been and what they might have caught in their dalliances.
I understand that you are “new money” and a classic case of rags to riches. Congratulations. A little excitement is allowed but you need to get over yourself and understand that there are people in this country who’d buy you three more Ranger Rovers and not feel the pinch.
Since you have friends in high places, you know, like the Deputy President, you ought to learn a thing or two from them. Allow their discreetness to rub off on you and learn to keep your excitement in check.
Don’t embarrass yourself in the city centre by having those mean-looking kanjo idiots clamping your Mercedes Benz because you think you are above the law.
If you were truly wealthy, as you would want us to believe, you’d be owning a building within the Nairobi CBD with your own special parking slot, and not pleading with kanjo to unclamp your car.
So, my friend, I probably risk you unfollowing me on Twitter, or worse, you blocking me, but I have one last thing to tell you. Find a good, virtuous woman who is not easily impressed by your money or clout.
She will ground you and give you little ones who will give you the approval you are so desperately looking for. Leave the socialites to the Emirati Sheikhs and the TV girls to whoever can buy drinks.
And while you are it, the next time you are about to post something on Facebook, ask yourself, “Do I have enough lip gloss on my lips or should I add a little more?”