Trophy love

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My wanderlust leads me to the North this time. I am a traveler of our times who never owned a real passport or money to improve his own jagged life. At 26, I have travelled to more than 18 countries all over the world- doing things that won’t influence anyone’s life positively.

I am forced to travel. It is what keeps me on tabs, and denies me the chance to enjoy my freedom at the same time. To say the least, I have worked for sources close to the government since 2015. My work does not reflect what a government would do, not in its right mind. And that is why the same government doesn’t recognize me although I am its object.

Before I started my little wanders on this earth, I went through a military training in Kenya and France. Then I went on a peacekeeping mission in DRC while in France (under the French Foreign Legion) where I managed to bake nine militants for my first kill. Since then, guns have been my friends.

Apart from that, I am a kick ass photographer. This skill, I use more often than I do guns. It is much safer than a cold metal machine that kills. And in my sphere of influence, I am a photographer. It is all I’ll ever be in my entire life.

When I am not on a mission, I try to get my butt moving. New places enable me to relax. There, I meet new and beautiful women who share laughter and happiness with me. I am helpless at the sight of stunning women. As much as I’d like to entertain women because I truly like their company, I am a poor fellah. I have money, only that I can’t access it locally. When I am abroad I can enjoy all I want. That is how my ‘employer’ wants me to lead my life.

He fears that if he lets me enjoy my money right here people would start wondering where I get it yet I don’t have any legit job. And that would be the beginning of problems that my employer can’t pull off. So I am let to suffer at their expense. I can’t stick to a job as one day they’ll pull me out and send me on a two-week full mission. What do I tell my boss if the same keeps happening all year through?

To this, I spend my time gathering coins here and there, practicing journalism and writing on a small blog that edifies fornication. It is not that I am good at these two; it is a way to get food on my table. I need to survive since there is no other way. I have dreamt of setting up a business several times. All these dreams never bear fruit because I lack the funds.

A few weeks ago I travelled to Nanyuki. I went past it to a town called Isiolo. It was my first time there. In my chase for vanity, I wander to meet women- most of whom I meet on social media. I have met very stunning women who are so rich both materially and intellectually. They’ve shown me what the world looks like and why life should be enjoyed. They have shared very exceptional insights that shaped my world view paradigms. They have entertained me and made me feel human again because at some point I have lost that part of me that makes us feel human.

Yet at the same time I have met women who are deprived, both materially and intellectually. Surprisingly, most of these are endowed with beauty that excites even the devil’s groin. And such was a woman who made me think the world was full of vanity. At the age of 24, she is so gorgeous that even the sun could come out at night just to admire her.

In equal measure, that sun would pity her when she opens her mouth to speak. I had asked her out on a date. As a man, there are many ways to kill a rat. The best way is to excite a woman and make her think you’re the only man and she’s the only woman. As simple as it sounds, it might never work if your pockets are forever yawning.

I took her out to a nice joint in Isiolo, Silver Bells Hotel,  where I had booked a deluxe single room. There are nice joints because whites happen to live close by. Her skin was glowing. This temptress had me by her sleeve, making me drool. She is the true definition of beauty. In my mind, I convinced myself I had hit a jackpot. I’d do anything for her now that men will always be slaves to women, busting their butts to provide for and keep them safe while they stay pretty and innocent, wanting to be handled gently like a fragile golden egg.

I pulled a chair for her to sit on like a classic, conventional man. It is a thing that contemporary men wouldn’t find alluring. My soul is old and charred, therefore, making me a man from the old era. This is not to say I haven’t embraced the new and inventive techniques to treat a woman. I am versatile, and gentle with women for obvious reasons- they make my world burst with joy.

She ordered a bottle of scotch. I don’t touch alcohol so I stayed there licking my milk like a cat. This is after we’ve shared a meal. From her general appearance, she was nothing short of Vera Sidika. I could easily note that she was a lass whose similitude was that of a well dressed Range Rover Sport that drives on a Subaru engine. Meaning that its outside was the most important aspect, and the inside was secondary. It could only deliver what that Subaru engine could and not what the Range Rover Sport cover would.

Our conversation started on what I do. I didn’t want to keep complementing her because I’d look desperate. It is bad for a man or anyone for that matter to appear desperate before someone. It is a direct ticket to slavery and manipulation. I couldn’t tell her what I really do unless I was to kill her, which I wasn’t going to. I told her I am a small fish chasing down opportunities on a broken boulevard of dreams- something she couldn’t understand, well, because she had a Range Rover cover and a Subaru engine.

“I am a writer. A small writer starting out, you know,” I said.

“Mhh. Is that it?” She asked a sign of horror on her face.

“Yep. Unless you had something else in mind,” I offered.

“You can’t afford me then,” she replied with a straight face.

“Are you a trophy or something?” I asked. Her response rather irritated me, and even my bowels. Was I going to buy her? What did she mean?

“You see all this (showing me her entire body) is a thorough investment. I want to keep it that way. I need a man with a real job and enough money to keep me beautiful.”

“Oh, I see. So who has been investing in you lately?” I asked. My mind was already shutting down slowly from the joy that I had started having, shifting to a carefree mood.

“Myself. But if I am to move in with a man, it becomes his responsibility,” she continued.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, it is like that.” It was a tone of finality. Probably she was not thinking what she meant. I could see through her that she was lacking some emotional intelligence that keeps people’s sanity intact.

“If that is so, it means that whoever takes you in will own you because you’ll be his object. Nothing more. Is that all you want to be?”

“I think now you’re insulting me. And I didn’t come here for that.” It is always the habit of the dumb and weak to get offended quite easily and try to run away from the truth.

“Sadly, I also didn’t come here to buy a trophy. My life is miserable enough, and I can’t have another thing to multiply my misery. If you think I can’t afford you, beat it chic.”

It was a pity to see her walk out before I could smash her. She would have been good for a long test drive. But sure enough, she was a poor lady trying to live her dreams off a man who has worked so hard.

I am not overlooking my propensity to dip myself in every hole that I lay my eyes on. The thing is that whether we wait for 90 days or have sex on the first day it changes nothing. It is all about what you feel inside about that person. After how long you have sex is not a love determinant. Something else is.

My concern is the kind of crop of ladies the society is raising nowadays- Ladies who don’t value hard work. They dream of landing on the laps of wealthy folks and becoming princesses overnight. While for some it turns out to align with the reality, to some it will never come to fruition.

The contemporary ladies, especially the ones that our varsities are cultivating nowadays have become nothing but spoilt brats who don’t embrace hard work. All they want is to sit pretty and wait for a rich man to rescue them. They manipulate and steal from men to finance their pretty lifestyles.

I don’t have a problem with how people lead their lives. But I am aware of the cost of stupidity. Often we underestimate the effects of stupid people on the society. Non-stupid people pay dearly for these mistakes.

It is for us to ensure we raise a society that can think for themselves. The future belongs to the younger generations, and they need to be prepped for it by instilling the right skills and traits in them. Why should a girl put herself vulnerable to a man with money? Why does it have to be so?

Is it bad to call her a prostitute? If at all she cares for the highest bidder and not the great prospective things that can sprout out of a good friendship then she’s simply in the business of a willing seller and a willing buyer.  And a buyer can buy so many things from different sellers. Will she feel bad if this happens?

It is a sad state of affairs for us to put money at the helm of our interactions. Money doesn’t come easy. It is worked for, toiled for and many people lose lives and other precious possessions in the process. So there is no one who is going to dish it out just like that for/on you. Apart from your body you must accompany yourself with a bunch of other valuables to the table. Money buys value.  You must be worth that money because someone sacrificed so many things to have it. They are not going to hand it over to you as if you’re partners.

It is not bad for a girl to dream. Everyone else does dream. For dreams to become true, they have to be preceded by an action. It is not a matter of someone affording your dreams. It is you being able to afford your dreams. If you can’t reach them, no one else will reach them for you.

It is paramount that our ladies are taught the value of working on their dreams. Life is not pegged on others. How can that be possible? We are meant to create our own joys and giggles, and then be able to share them with our neighbours. Letting other people be in charge of your life and its accompaniments deprives you the freedom of ever becoming happy when you want to. You don’t have to give others that chance to rule you.

I sat there looking at the half empty bottle of scotch. What was I to do with it? I really wanted to sip its contents so that I can feel its taste for the first time. But even as curious as I always am, I couldn’t lift the cork off. I asked for the waiter and footed the bill. A bottle in one hand, and a jacket on the other, I left for my room. There I could admire at the bottle and its brown fluid. I would also sleep and forget the events of affordability. It was a waste to go all that way to return empty. It was a shame.

On the way to my room, I saw a lady enter into her room.

“Hey, wait!” I summoned her.

“Yes please, how may I help?” she asked in a mellow voice that moistened my heart.

“Do you drink?” I asked her.

“Yes I do. But tonight I am good. Thanks anyway,” she replied as she gave me her back.

“I don’t drink. I just want you to have this. You can have it when you are in the mood,” I offered her the bottle.

“This is a nice one. Why all the trouble if you don’t drink?” she asked.

“I bought it for someone. Unfortunately, she left before she could finish it.”

“That is sad. Thank you.”

I sauntered into my room to have a warm shower.

 

Mzangila Snr,

(The supreme hunter in captivity)

Where shall we go, we who wander in this wasteland in search of better selves?

Edited by: Esther Nasenya

Image credit:Monte Alto – Advocacia e Consultoria

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About Mzangila

Mentor, media consultant, photographer, editor, poet, writer, and counselor.

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