This is not an article about fingers. It will degenerate into a sexual rant. I suggest to any religious overlord who will feel offended and rant in the comment section later on, that they move on and watch praise and worship videos on YouTube for proper soulful nourishment.
I should look for a new skill, since clearly, I’m too lazy to write frequently. That’s about the only reason you will get for my non writing. You are not my friends, and even if I had friends, I would rather slit my wrists that explain anything to them. Besides, there are better things to talk about; our economy is doing terribly. So terrible that at some point you have to imagine the shield and spear on our flag was a prophecy from our founders, who knew that someday shit in this country would lead residents to burn everything to the ground in the middle of the night. My life is also not interesting at the moment, nothing is happening. My brother who was born in 2002 is taller than me, and is built like a gym instructor. I did this manly greeting where we bump our shoulders like a side hug, and I actually felt his strength. It is important to note that I have the body of an employed American woman. If we have any arguments in future, my only defense will be to squirt lemon juice in his eye and call my mother.
This article is about a recently divorced friend called Matthew. Matthew is somewhere in his mid-thirties. His ex-wife was good enough to take her kids with her after their divorce which as I understood was because of Matthew cheating, which can be roughly translated as her finding very exclusively taken pictures of a woman’s nakedness. Exclusive to mean they weren’t downloaded from the internet. It’s like having breaking news but only for you, on your inbox. By recently divorced, I mean that Matthew and his wife called it quits in February. They had two boys, one eight year old and a five year old. The eight year old looks like Matthew, behaves like him, and laughs like him. Matthew laughs like a 52 year old church gossip woman; the ones that laugh so hard, makes an odd sound at the end and then go back to whispering whatever gossip they were sharing. But the 5 year old is such a decent boy. At that age, the beautiful boy has learned how to say thank you. Bring the child candy and he says “Asante Uncle John”. I think the name John is the mother’s way of saying she hates all of her husband’s friends, so she says that to animate me. I did not hate her though. Despite being an assassin, I liked the woman. I say she was an assassin because she cannot cook and insists on cooking. She can cook the basic foods like Kunde, Managu, Ugali, rice, beef and beans. But she’s been watching these culinary tutorials on YouTube that will absolutely disfigure your vocal cords and taste buds. In January, I did not have fish for weeks because of marine trauma. The only thing worse than seeing Theresa May dance in her English accent was eating that fish.
Matthew is not young, he makes an odd sound every time he sits down and every time he stands from a seat, a mix of voice and breath going inward or outward. All our 45 year old uncles make that sound after taking the stairs or standing up after a long church sermon. I can’t describe it better than that.
Matthew is odd. He pulls his pants down in full to pee. I do not know where he learnt that thing. You see his full open butt on the urinal. It has never stopped being disturbing. You know, there is no way you will have a conversation with him about anything as serious as the political situation in Uganda, see him in the urinal and continue with the same conversation. It is difficult, as a man, seeing the bare butt of another man in whichever situation. Which is another reason why I think doctors deserve to be paid more. Had I been a doctor, I would judge people by the length of their butt cracks, which in essence is the reason why Besigye despises Museveni.Being his former personal doctor, he must’ve looked down there and saw the shallowness and insulting length of the man’s butt crack and thought to himself why a man with such pinkie-finger-depth butt-cheek valley would be an entire country’s tormentor. But Matthew is also a charmer. He is a Disney princess, because that’s the only way you can explain him being friendly with literally any animal and woman. I have an age old battle with dogs and cats just have an attitude I cannot tolerate. I think cat’s see humans as their servants or something. At his age Matthew is also an active practitioner of lotion avoidance, but he can get away with it because he lives in a three bedroom apartment in Ngummo, that has a bathtub while the rest of us bathe while standing. His bathroom is huge, you’d have to forgive him for anything. The last time I took a shower in his house was in June. I slipped in the shower and as I was falling, I tried saving myself by holding on to the water. I accepted immediately that a huge bathroom is not important for me and I avoid his.
Being the charmer he is, Matthew picks girls in clubs. He is an expert at that. I don’t know how he does it. I assume he wags his Audi Key and those young girls feel financially secure. While the rest of us will take you home in an Uber and send you away the next morning with a thousand bob, Matthew will pick a girl on Friday, spend the entire day with her and friends on Saturday, take her out on Saturday and drive her home on Sunday. Save for the fornication, Matthew will go to heaven. Pause. Ladies, please, Matthew is a Disney princess and we’ve ironed that out already. A lot of us cannot do this fairy tale life because we didn’t read those books as kids. And when we did as adults, we noticed the problem. For example in Snow White, she runs away to live with dwarfs. Why isn’t there anyone questioning why the dwarfs spend their days in isolation and banishment, mining uranium in the hope of building an atomic bomb and destroying the society of taller people that cast them out. Where were these miniature warmongers when she was given the poisoned apple? Let’s not even start on Cinderella, because the only lesson I saw there was that the prince in Cinderella fell in love with her feet because he has a glass fetish. Live realistically: go out, dance, drink what is on the table, get laid, Uber the next morning; within the means of the layer/blesser. The rest of us are the bad men your mum told you to avoid. We like the sound of our own voices, and silence is our love language. If there was a way you could stay around, and be invisible, we would take it. Thanks.
Back to Matthew. He is a charmer, which is a default defect that comes with being a Luo. But his type of charm is the sophisticated urban Luo who uses words like Gas for fuel, and ‘petty’ for the washroom. I have always told him his escapades would soon end in something dramatic, despite being the new divorcee in town. I was not cursing him or anything, but I figured four women in a month would end up in something dramatic especially after treating each of them like the only one. What I did not expect is a sexual mishap which is what this article is about. Let me start by pointing out that sex is an overrated act. Most times, humans believe that after having sex with someone, it generally means they are immediately lifelong partners. That’s how it should be, but the arithmetic has a formula; that only works out if it starts with dating then sex comes after that. You cannot be picked in an alcohol environment, where amidst the confusion of the DJ, sweat, Sheesha smoke and a slower brain speed, someone makes you their bad decision for the weekend and you end up having expectations. Seeing me naked and sweating with faces you would never imagine, is not necessarily a formula to happily ever after. But even with that, think of a sexual mishap. Any. I think the weirdest I have heard is that while being ridden an ex bounced up too high, the guy partially slid out, she came back down and his penis kinked in the middle, to the left. The other one was when the lady’s head got stuck in between my friends’ wooden bed’s rails and they had to wait till morning to find a hacksaw to cut off one of the rails.
This is different.
Beginning of August, I had not seen Matthew out for almost three weeks. I thought he was depressed about the divorce, which was highly unlikely for a guy who calls women “Yengz”. I visited him… And he was clearly disturbed. It was the first day of the league season. Midway through the battering Arsenal was getting from Man City, he turned to me.
“I don’t know what these young girls are up to nowadays Irvin. Honestly.” He said.
“You’re the one who’s always carrying them home.”
“Well that’s true, but I think I’m done.”
“That’s a bit drastic don’t you think?”
“Hardly. Maybe you don’t understand. Remember the girl from Mombasa road?”
“The one with natural hair?”
“Right when things got heated, she was grunting and all that, I was on top, and she yanked a finger up my butt. I have never felt hat offended, but there was an echo that ran through my entire body. I mean I just looked at her, it was not disgust, or anger, I was frightened. I have been married for 9 years, and sex has never scared me.”
Let’s stop right there and take a commercial break for a minute for the sake of my homophobia. It has taken me four weeks for the fear of toxic feminism and online girl power, but it’s time we make some things clear.
First, age is just number. But, but it’s an important one since it gives me an idea of how much time I have left before I die. Let me talk about myself. I am not yet 30. But it’s getting close. I’m not worried about getting old and ugly. I got ugly young specifically so that wouldn’t be a problem. But at that age, you dream about squandering the twilight of your life with or without money, with the little energy you have. When you hit thirty, you’re basically forty, and your lower appendages in particular, are degenerating at a rapid rate. You cannot compete with a 25 year old beaming with energy and adventure for anything let alone sex. Above 35, which is where Matthew is, anything can be a cause of death. You can sit down, and you breathe too fast and sudden, and gas chokes you to death. Any amount of gas in your tummy past 35 is alarming. Above 35, you cannot dance to Kamba songs in a club. You clap to them. There is a chance you will fall over, hit your head on a bottle top and die. At 35, your favorite pastime is sitting in the house and sleeping as you watch the TV and eat. You could go out, meet a crazy Ex, shout at each other and run out of air in your lungs. At 35, you are closest with God. 18 is adult. 25 is adulting. But above 35 is ageing. Nowhere at that age do you want to make a sexual discovery that involves anything going inside any part of your male anatomy. I am not saying it is okay to do that to a 27 year old male either. As Africans, we are not born explorers. I will guard your bags at the beach as you sail on those boats to masses of water comfortably and cheer you on as you come back.
Secondly, the finger has a specific use. ‘May God bless the work of your hands’ certainly does not include sticking a finger up a man’s butt. 97% of men will not have a prostate exam is they knew what it involves. I don’t understand why a 24 year old lady will magically turn into a doctor midway through illegal conjugation and hand you such an examination. I do not approve of it. The content I write here might be useless to society, but the way I abuse the English language occasionally attracts attention. Through that attention, please be informed that anything in an African man’s butt can seriously end you on a hospital bed. Please don’t listen to these people saying it is an equivalent of a woman being touched inappropriately. I’m sorry but you’re allowed to slap us if we do. But sticking a finger is simply not acceptable. Use that finger to calculate the value of your life. Some of us are not Disney princesses and will not hesitate to punch you in the tummy which I promise you is very painful and scary; You run out of breathe and you will genuinely believe that you are about to die.
Now look. Matthew is on a self-imposed sabbatical, and he could soon go celibate because some girl just… Sex is never that serious. We will all grow old and never tell our children about the best sex we had. If your dad or mum narrate these things to you then you’re too young for this blog. Neither will that be the topic by which our credit score is judged. The entire Bible has not a single sex scene. No one won an award for being the best sexual partner. If anything, no one ever knows how good or bad they are. It is never that serious.
I’m sorry Matthew. I really am. #PrayForMatthew