A few years ago, while we were still in campus, one of my friends fell out with his girlfriend. They had fought over something. He thought she was being unreasonable. I can’t tell what she thought of him but I hope it was that he was being childish. Since he was not picking her calls and wasn’t in his room – and she loved him, I think, and wanted to make things right – she came to us to intervene because our friend had simply gone MIA after the argument. Not available in his room or on call. She thought we’d know where he was, perhaps talk some sense into him because we looked like reasonable people. She was wrong on all accounts. We didn’t know where he was, and even if we did, how were we going to start that conversation? “Buda, nani alikuja hapa akilia juu mlikosana, form ni gani?” Or, “You guy, we need to talk. Your woman is complaining.”
We didn’t even have girlfriends. Our expertise lied in knowing which sub-500Kes poisons wouldn’t dissolve your internal organs; not mediating domestic disputes. We were ill-qualified for the job we were being tasked with but love makes you believe idiots like us can salvage your relationship. We were three in that room and one excused himself – not because he didn’t want to bell the cat but because he gets uncomfortable at any display of emotion. And it was his room. These are the kind of men the lady was banking on to be reasonable. I offered her tea (what else was I supposed to do?). The slightly less unreasonable guy consoled her, telling her cliché nonsense like ‘things are gonna be okay’ and promising to launch a manhunt for her boyfriend. Eventually she calmed down and went back to her place. And our host who’d left to while away time in the washrooms returned.
Later that evening as we were looking for something to do, probably throat irrigation, because we were single as fuck, we met the two holding hands, looking all lovey-dovey like RAO and UK. Our friend had returned from his self-imposed exile and made up with his girlfriend before the day ended. Things had become okay as promised. Since I sometimes don’t know when to shut my mouth, I pulled our friend aside and asked why he had gone AWOL earlier in the day so his wife had to come looking for him through us.
The man made eye contact, giggled and said, “Weche joma pendgi oseromo kik idonjie.” (Translation: pambana na hali yako.)
To this day, every time I see relationship drama either from quasi-famous people or personal friends, I recall this phrase and keep my opinions to myself. I don’t mediate relationship disputes. I keep my nose out of my friends’ relationships except when I have to blackmail them in front of their girlfriends to get a favour. Otherwise it’s none of my business.
Dating rich when you are a broke ass nigga takes some sitting on your pride, ego…and balls. I don’t know how I’d stay with a woman if I was driving her car, living in her house, wearing clothes she bought me and spending her money. I wasn’t raised that way but there are better men out here who don’t find sitting on their balls painful. And when you sit on your balls like that, your woman will disrespect you in ways you’d otherwise not stomach if she was not providing food, shelter and exotic trips. But because you are broke and homeless and stupid, you will keep taking her back when she cheats on you because what options do you have.
Rich girls will buy you expensive gifts, give you allowances simply for existing, take you on expensive dates, and send you on errands with their cars and give you pocket money in case you scratch someone’s jalopy or crave for smokies. It’s all nice. They will even let you move in with them and pay for Wi-Fi and DStv so you don’t get bored while in the house. Rich girls will make you forget the generational poverty in your lineage and that’s how you’ll find yourself at the Coast launching Huduma Namba because every time you step out of the house, you get pocket money. She will give you money to go out and drink with the boys and come to pick you from the club at 3 because she thinks she loves you.
It’s a fairy tale relationship until you try breaking up with them. I can’t tell if the drama comes with a pampered upbringing or if it’s an acquired trait but boy these rich kids are dramatic. The right word is toxic. I have seen a man get confronted at a watering hole and made to choose between getting back together with a woman he’d clearly lost interest in and repaying moneys he was gifted. He kissed and made up with the lady to save himself from further embarrassment. And this is why you should never accept gifts you cannot afford.
In the long run, because you can only stomach a toxic human for so long, he put an end to the relationship. I don’t know if he repaid the 20k he owed, bought a new Samsung Galaxy to replace the one he was bought and lost, and returned the shoes, shirts, belts and jewellery. But from time to time, the woman would subject him and his new girlfriend to drunken verbal attacks, making sure everyone at the campus club knew all the items she’d bought the bastard.
You can be a broke ass nigga dating these kawaida chicks and you will part ways with little drama when the relationship reaches its shelf life. No one will know that she’s the one who replaced your torn underwear and taught you how to drink tea without emulating Subaru engine sounds. The world won’t even know that you wear socks in bed. But these ones with daddy money will drag your poverty-stricken name through mud that by the time people know the truth they will be having less respect for you…for dating a mad woman.
The man will get accused of many transgressions including physical abuse. Somehow these charges never get an OB number and conveniently disappear when you choose to get back with them. And this is the problem I have with these dumb rich kids. If a man physically abuses you, report him to the police and let his ass rot in jail. But stop accusing men who dump your toxic ass of being abusive as a means of getting back at them. It does a lot of harm to women who are actually in abusive relationships. There are women getting battered to death by their partners because of stupid people like that vlogger and her mooching boyfriend have made us sceptical when women cry out for help. If you are dumb and petty, just say his equipment is small, like Vera did, but don’t falsely accuse people of abusing you because you are bitter. Use some of that daddy money for therapy. Maybe you can overcome your abandonment issues.