Once in a while, I receive letters from readers that range from the curious to the downright comical. Most are from students seeking advice on getting into journalism. Others are from jobless graduates begging for connections to wadosi. The joblessness in this Jamhuri is a full-blown pandemic.
But the most hilarious letter came from a young lady who seems convinced I’m a rich city uncle with a shiny pickup and acres of prime land in Murang’a. I don’t know where this brave soul got that idea from. A man who spends weekends sipping goat-head soup at Giceeri’s ancient joint is many things, but rich isn’t one of them. The jalopy I drive should be enough proof that money and I are irreconcilably divorced.
This particular lady wants a connection to a rich Kikuyu mubaba. Permit me to break protocol and share bits of her letter: “I’m looking for a rich Kikuyu mubaba to give me baby girl treatment,” she wrote. “I love travelling, so I wouldn’t mind random out-of-town road trips.” The rest of the letter was too mushy, so I’ll spare you.
I did a quick scan of the company I keep just to be fair. Kamaley is Kikuyu, sure, but far from rich and even farther from owning a car. Uncle might have had money, but I suspect he hung up his boots sometime around Moi’s last term. So what did I tell the young lady? Here’s my reply:
To bag such a mubaba, you need to rebrand yourself for the target market. Hang out where they congregate. If your estate has a tired bar with “Established 1972” hanging above the door, make it your weekend base.
When rich wababas aren’t sipping warm beer in dimly lit pubs, they’re supervising construction projects in remote outposts. Show up at such sites and volunteer to stir the koroga. Who knows, when mdosi rolls in to pay mafundi on Saturday, he might be swept off his feet by your stirring skills and drive you off in his double cabin to be installed as wife number three.
Kikuyu wababas don’t do road trips. Instead, they do ‘rori-trips’ to collect hay for their cows or pick waru from Kinangop. But they’re caring sweethearts who will carry packed mukimo and avocado so that you don’t get famished along the way. This food will be served in a repurposed Blue Band container which sits at the dashboard of his FRR lorry.
You also insisted that he should be romantic. If your idea of romance is a five-course meal, then he won’t disappoint. He’ll whisk you to Kamakis on a Saturday afternoon, order for you tumbukiza, pair it with mukimo and hot soup, and wash it down with two drinks of your choice. That, my dear, is a five-course experience, Gikuyu edition. If during the meal he as much points at you with a goat rib, then you his forever, trust me.
Lastly, you mentioned he must be smart and smell good. Men from our hills are fashion icons. They rock around in well-pressed khakis, safari boots, checked shirts, and a cowboy hat. Add in the earthy aroma of natural cologne and you have a debonair village prince ready to paint the town red!
All the best, baby girl.