This Cold

This Cold
Siloma

Siloma

Happy soul ultra pro max!

There is nothing as disheartening as being a bachelor in Kenya especially at this time when they are all casting for the animation movie, Frozen. The government has just increased taxes on everything and their beautiful girlfriends expect not to see the tax in their monthly allowances.

Bachelors in Kenya are defined by three things. First, they wake up like actors in music festivals, splitting through curtains as if acting a scene in Sarafina because their houses are partitioned with bedsheets whose color can shame Embarambamba.

Second, they are aqua intolerant. I really do not know the relationship between the two. Those who passed Biology can take this moment to show us what they learned was not in vain. As for me and Joho, we were busy imitating the teacher as he was pronouncing, ‘cell vacuole’ – if you know you know.

It is a crime for a bachelor to bathe every day. From the leafy suburbs to the mountains of Eastlands, they bathe the ancestors with Konyagis and other sorts of wines and spirits. A bachelor should bathe every other day. The rationale being that they might get bleached and the bigger crime is to be a light skin guy in this country. Imagine looking like Huddah.

The final characteristic of a bachelor in Kenya are the words, ‘Ata si chafu!’ This is Bachelors Association of Kenya (BAK) slogan. A bachelor should take up his dirty jeans, spread them on the bed and wait for an angel of God to tell him, ‘This jeans is very dirty do not wear it’ in which he will remind him of the BAK slogan, ‘Ata si chafu!’

The cold also doesn’t treat the bachelors with the respect they deserve. It treats them like people who sleep in the same room with utensils. Someone recently said that all is not lost because the government has for once delivered on its promises, that the person who was awarded the tender to deliver ‘cold’ did his best without being corrupt.

For once, no bachelor is complaining of mosquitos, I think they are also wearing boshoris. During the last BAK conference, mosquitoes were a non-agenda as this cold sent them to hibernation. No mosquito can kiss a bachelor with this cold, I mean do you sip frozen ice cubes without the drink?

We, bachelors, cannot bathe every day with this cold. No matter how many parts of that animation called Frozen you create, we cannot can’t! Alafu it is drizzling in the morning, surely, do you want us to wash clothes and they do not get dry?

Our wet boxers are still lazily dangling on the hanging lines like Raila Odinga’s eyes. We are now wearing Roman Empire underwear. We look like people in the times of John The Baptist.

We cannot think a lot in this cold and that’s why we need cold-tolerant female counterparts to help us. We rarely remember that a cup should be taken to the kitchen sink. Our hands are frozen. We are incapacitated.

Dear single ladies, do you know why the Bible says, “The Lord God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.” How about you realize that you are that rib and that you were not used in boiling soup?

We need the government to recognize the Bachelors Association of Kenya so that as it is supplying cold in this season, it also supplies heat to our homes. And we know who we want to be given the tender, this is not KEMSA where some old grandma walks past and she gets the tender, No! And we also do not want Safaricom Jazz’s roaming spirits, the government should look at the future of its single men, not giving them the walking dead.

This cold was sent (You know how we emphasize things in Africa). In my thirty or so years of living in Kenya, I have never had a near-death experience such as this where you wake up looking like a nduthi guy, look yourself in the mirror, and ask, “Customer unaenda?”

Buy me coffee? 

Have you read my e-books?

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