Football Or Marriage

While most smart females worldwide have begun making plans of getaways with girlfriends and are grabbing their men for last minute dates, I am on the other side of the court. With the men who are about to disappear for months. Forget about the elections that will torment us for a few days and then we’re back to complaining of this MP and that Governor. I am on the side of the court that is about to unite people worldwide. Football season is a whiff away!

With such kind of excitement, you can only see the sense in why I have continually thanked God this whole month that I am not married. Fam, I had a “Life Book”. It explicitly highlighted my plan for my life. I was supposed to be married by 25. Lol. I am 25 and cannot even begin to imagine HOW I would have been someone’s wife, let alone mother, at this point. My mother had 2 kids by 25. I am here struggling to find my bra straps, how can I even match my child’s name to his/her face? I salute all women who have children by 25. I have refused to can.

Imagine how I would be struggling next month. Mr. Man and I get home from work. I get in and place my bag somewhere, wash my hands and take a fruit. Any team is playing, and I am all psyched to watch and place bets and have stories. And, of course, piss Mr. Man. (It’s in the constitution). Mr. Man will ask for food when the game is hottest, like a typical man. “Master, wait till half time” I will say, before being taken back to my mother’s house the next day.

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I joined campus in April 2012. World cup was so lit at the time. I already had relatives telling me how I would never get a husband when they heard I was going to study Politics. A Nyerian woman studying politics. That’s the kind of sentence that makes you join campus with so much humility and you become too conscious. Because, you must look wife material, you know? I didn’t even speak of football, because, you know… Until my newest friend mentioned it. And I knew I had found my soul-mate.

Guise, it is one thing to look for plot in campus. It is yet another for two first year females to look for a place to watch football. But our mothers didn’t raise quitters, so we approached one of her male friends.

“Where do you guys usually watch football?”

There is laughter only men can give when a woman asks for a place to watch football.

Moi University Student’s Center, also known as “Stuudie”, was the spot. Strathmore and USIU students shouldn’t even attempt to imagine how stuudie looks like. It is the equivalent of a chaotic empty hexagonal space. With a roof so open, even the echo echoes itself. But we went. Not quitters, remember? Surprised that men were carrying chairs, but even more surprised that more than 500 students would follow this anticipated match via a 30 inch television.

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I used to attend Gor Mahia matches. If you have never seen miracles, please attend one… especially when against AFC Leopards. How people suddenly turn the papers and money in their pockets into stones will forever remain a miracle that should be in the Guinness Book. Forget the backward writer who called Gor Mahia a “little-known Kenyan club”. But the stones and teargas I witnessed at Nyayo Stadium were nothing compared to the flying chairs these very dry Moi University goons called men threw.

I can confidently say that that was how we got inducted and oriented into Political Science. What is African politics without chaos? If that is how these MPs feel during those chaotic meetings, I think I will be comfortable working behind the scenes.

A Mr. Man left me in a club in 2014. My team was playing against his and we won. Apparently, I celebrated too loudly. Sigh. Story for another day.

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I have been through too much for football. I am working to reduce this appeasement. Ba is harrd. I can see myself putting my kids to bed at 6 pm just to enjoy my football time. Or cooking at the beginning of the season and stocking the fridge. Sigh. And if my relatives get to read this, prayers will be convened.

Brethren, take your women out for dinner or drinks or something before August. Appreciate the effort they put all year. And the loneliness they will feel. And if you’re a woman with a man who doesn’t watch football, and you do, Mwathani akuririkane my sister because! This life is tricky.

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JUST AN HONEST RANT

So Njoki Chege wakes up one morning and decided it’s a perfect day to “address” plus-size women. Well, I don’t have much to say on the topic, other than that I am totally confused. Was she speaking from a male or female perspective? And either way, doesn’t that make this even more confusing? I know I should be asking her, but oh well, let me ask you.

Last I checked, our able African men love them big and curvaceous (Bless my heart because most still take flubby as curvaceous). And our beautiful African women have been forced into an I-must-get-big-but-fit journey (Next to impossible if you ask me).

But now, men applaud when plus-size women are reminded they are “just fat” and women are now flocking gymns trying to lose weight and be the so-called “ideal laptop”.

Switch on your Tv or radio. Today, a politician vehemently defends government saying there isn’t money to pay teachers. A few years later,he’s condemning government for not having money to pay teachers. (Political Kalungu I have studied about for 4 years now).

Welcome to my beloved university. Believe me, our school motto says it all “The University With A Difference”. Fourth year in my wonderful faculty is the year you get to see your transcripts. So as the dutiful student I try to be, I hunt down my lecturers looking for my missing marks. Hallelujah, I get them. Two weeks later, I walk into Room 65 to collect my transcript and voilla! I have more than 6 missing marks. Again!

Okay, what kind of life is this? Why did I grow up? I don’t want this confused world and a gazillion responsibilities! Rather, who said I wanted to be born human? What if I wanted to be a tree? Or a lightning arrestor??

And now, word has it that Nyerian women love bodaboda rides because they get aroused by them. Where do I trace my roots again? Goodbye.