*Polite notice. Please help a sister out in the comments section*
These are true stories…
I am a hustler by nature. Well, life did this to me. Upon leaving the university, we all believed that we would all land cushy jobs in some offices in tao and live richly ever after. Well, what no one tells you is that the unemployment rate is Kenya is obscene and it helps if you know a person and if you are like me and know no one, life and the Kenyan economy will shaft you.
Anyway, it is through this reality that I have learned that life does not give a shit about you. You have to kick down doors and scratch the bare surface of the earth with your teeth to make it. That degree will not help you if you can’t get out and get things done.
Sometime last year, I decided that this life of sitting and waiting for a job just wasn’t working. So I decided to create one for myself by starting a hawking business. I sell sweets on Sundays so I guess I am what people call hawkers and what the government calls small scale business owners. Whatever the label, I make do with what I have and I love it. I do my small business at a children’s park. The park also serves as a place where low-income earners go for dates and others go to look for people to bring for dates. Once in awhile, it also serves as a church. It is in a Kikuyu neighbourhood, in case you are trying to understand why it has so much diversity.
As you might see, this place attracts all kinds of people. Obnoxious middle class Kenyans who want to take their kids out to play but can’t afford expensive places so they bring their kids here, complete with a snobbish attitude, those who are looking for dates, those who are on dates, those who want to idle, those who want to unwind, those who want to make an extra coin, and those who want to preach. All are welcome.
So, on this day, I am going about my business, trying to convince people to buy lollipops and ignoring all the foul attitudes around, when this lady asks me to look at the guy opposite her. Well, I am more curious than a cat and I turn and look. Opposite her was a young man, maybe in his late 20s or early 30s, dirty, unkempt but looking normal. The guy was sitting with his legs apart and right there in the middle was his erect dick hanging out of a hole that must have been deliberately drilled for this voyeuristic exercise. In my estimation, he was not a madman.
Well, the police think that this is no crime and the guy should be let to go about his duty of showing the world his erect dick in peace. The problem is, I have seen this guy at that same spot severally. He sits opposite women and children and then proceeds to remove his dick and show them. This is a rapist in waiting and the problem is, no one seems to care.
I am walking home one evening, rushing to prepare dinner before lioness gets home and eats me up for not having prepared food by the time she gets home. In the opposite direction is a young man. Healthy and with a bulging one pack. He looks descent. He has a marvin on his head and he is engrossed on his phone. I pay no attention.
As he approaches the corner that leads to our gate, he takes it. I am a few steps away. I am now just 2 steps away from the corner when I spot the same guy. He is now standing just after the corner. When I get there, he is moaning. At first, I think he is in pain but to my dismay, he is not. He has his dick out. He is treating himself to some pleasure using his hand. One hand is holding his phone, which I guess is feeding his fantasies and the other one is holding his small gun in it and rubbing it.
I am disgusted. He does not flinch on spotting me. I look at him with disgust mixed with horror. He looks at me with longing, even inviting eyes. I walk past him. I am not scared or embarrassed. This is the only way to the gate and besides, he is the one who should be ashamed.
I am walking home. I am about 100m from the gate. The fence is a live fence. Men have turned it into a urinal so it is not strange to find men standing against it and relieve themselves even as I walk past. I no longer get annoyed or disgusted. I guess my mind got used to the abuse.
So, as I draw nearer to the gate, some man coming from the opposite direction suddenly stops near the fence and I can see him struggling with his zipper. I do not look away. He is the one on the wrong, not me. I am now 3 steps away from him and he finally manages to draw out his tiny member. Yes, I looked. If he wanted privacy, he should have found it. He holds his tiny thing in his hand and asks me whether I want some. I walk past him in silence. He does not deserve my attention. Not with such a small item.
Men. Please explain to me like I just landed from mars, is this a thing with you guys? Do you all privately crave some kind of voyeuristic satisfaction that comes from showing your dicks to random women? Is this a thing that was never taught in the obsolete 8-4-4? Should I stop bothering the unperturbed Kabete Police with my reports about all these men who seem to me like potential rapists? Am I fussing about nothing? Is this something that is perfectly normal and I am having one of my usual late-blooming moments? Am I supposed to look and give a verdict? A rating? Am I supposed to say, “Waaah, Kamaa, hiyo yako ni kubwa kuliko ya Karis.” What am I supposed to do? Please educate me before I go crazy because I have a permanent mental scar. Every time I see a man’s hand near his zip I panic and start praying frantically that he does not draw out his gun because it is too disgusting!