At the risk of turning my fellow Kenyan women against me, let me say that if I were a Kenyan man, I would find it difficult to find a woman to marry.
The first reason is that what you see is often not what you get. Take all that fake hair we stick on our heads, for instance. Some of these weaves are simply ridiculous. I have always wondered why the wearers do not see this. My fellow women, Kenyan men detest weaves; just take a moment and listen to their conversations.
If I were a man, the next thing I would campaign against is the comical make-up women insist on wearing. Applying make-up is an art. You do not just wake up one day and slap on foundation, eye shadow, and lipstick, then step out of the house. Yes, people will look at you, but not out of admiration; rather, out of shock. I say make-up is not the problem; the wearer is.
While at it, why shave your perfectly fine eye brows only to draw them back in?
I also have a big problem with the so-called modern woman’s wardrobe. If you asked me, all skinny jeans and tights should be set ablaze, including bare-back tops, spaghetti tops, and fishnet stockings. You would unanimously support me if you have seen a plus-size woman, and I am being diplomatic here, dressed in a very short skirt paired with fishnet stockings and tottering high heels, finished off with heavy make-up and a humongous wig.
SPINSTER FOREVER
If I were a man, this is certainly not the kind of woman I would take to my mother — she would probably get a heart attack when she sets eyes on her. What about those extra-tight jeans that leave your “tyres” all exposed to the world?
Women, please, underwear is called that for a reason. It is not supposed to be seen, yet you think exposing yours is sexy. No, it is tacky, classless, and off-putting.
If I were a Kenyan man, I also would not marry a woman who smokes or fakes her accent. Smoking just does not suit women, and there is nothing as irritating as a fake accent. Just be yourself. Hey, I forgot something very important: If I were a Kenyan man, my wife would have to know how to cook a decent meal. If you cannot make ugali, you will be a hard sale.
If I were a Kenyan man, I would flatly refuse to eat those takeaway meals sold in supermarkets. I would want some real food cooked by my wife. When I talk about real food, I do not mean boiled rice, anyone can boil rice — I mean mukimo, traditional vegetables, kienyeji chicken made with fresh herbs, and other healthy and wholesome foods.
The breads, bacons, and sausages we are used to nowadays are what is making us obese. I would, therefore, want a woman who would be as health-conscious as my mother and serve me arrow roots, sweet potatoes, boiled maize, and cassava for breakfast.
My fellow women, if you changed a few of your bad habits, I promise you that you would not have a problem finding a man to marry, neither would you need someone to pray for you to get one.
Look at it this way: When you go shopping for clothes, you would never buy something that is torn, or one that shows signs that it has seen better days. You will buy something that looks attractive, something that will turn heads for the right reasons.
Similarly, when you go to the supermarket, you are likely to go for the most attractively packaged stuff. If you, therefore, puff like a chimney, drink men under the table, and walk around showing your underwear, then dear woman, you are likely to remain single for a long time, if not forever.
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