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Sunday 21 April 2019
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Manhood gone to waste

My rural upbringing plays a big role in how I see things. Just like it is almost a sin in my eyes to have one woman or to be useless at an age off the calendar, some things are just unacceptable of men – especially when the young children start calling you tate or uncle.

 

Today we talk about manhood gone to waste. People I wish were born with one or no balls at all. These are the people I think would fit well in feminine skin.

 

I’m talking about the ‘beautiful men.’ We have already made peace with the comrades who barter from behind. At least we know where they stand and all the hope we have lost in the eventuality of them making a U-turn.

 

I hereby refer to the comrades in our kraal trying hard to blend in and be called men for zero reasons besides their masculine names. Every person would define what a true man is depending on where they grew up and how the men around them acted the part. But things have changed because not everything you see them do was taught at home.

 

Correct me if I’m wrong. It is a shame and brings the reputation of manhood to disrepute when you are 30 year old and still fully in the care and roof of your parents. These are the topis with the same height of their fathers who still take their kamborotos to their friend’s room for a quickie.

 

It is not only wrong but a sin to the father of Jesus (Joseph – according to Home Affairs) to not have a comfortable place of comfort at that age.

 

If you cannot afford a house, at least build your silver-house behind your father’s house. One zinc sheet is cheaper than Zorba or your Hubbly-bubbly pipe with flavor. You can call it room 69 and invite all the school girls who are yet to comprehend what a true man should be doing.

 

And just if you are 30 and still in your childhood room in your parents’ home, it make me wonder what you wish for your parents. If you are a father and your 30 year old boy is still living with you after he got a job three year ago, be worried because your boy is patiently waiting for the day you kick the bucket so he gets the house.

 

You annoy him so much every day you wake up and play your Sunday rural songs with Eyakulo – so much that he can’t wait for the day they announce your death, memorial service and burial in 45 seconds.

I also want to take time and point out the boys who are 35 and still taking taxi’s to Hilton Hotel. Now, I do not have a problem with you taking a taxi, but I just feel your destination does not add up to the person you really are.

 

It is either you truly need help from the 16th floor or someone must slap you so hard you remember that you remember the taste of mother milk. Or maybe you are just stupid. A man with the right priorities knows his reach and works at his pace to get there.

 

If you dine at Hilton Hotel and know the price of Remi Martins, then you should at least have visited Autohous once – not to make quotations and never go back, but to vrmmm yourself to your fallacy life.

 

And just by the way, at least by age 35, own a car. It does not have to be like Tim Ekandjo’s or your Katti. ‘Jan Japan’ sells cars in your pay or hustle range. Otherwise, restructure your dreams if you cannot make peace with the fact that you are not of the gentlemen club.

 

And just when you think I forgot them, I want to filter out the comrades who find it fit to make women their boxing bags. Last I checked no one disputed our ability to overpower the opposite sex so I do not understand what point one tries to proof when we already know that you are strong.

 

You come into her life by promising her the same promises you still owe your ex, cheat on her, and all of a sudden you own her so much that she cannot get a call-me request after the 20h00 News weather forecast report. Shaishe.

 

You are a disgrace to our kind and we distance ourselves from your actions as it was never part of the memo. It is enough that you already cheat on her so keep your hands on your d***head or go look for Tobias for boxing bags. I dare you to beat my sister and it will be the last time you see anything in your life. I will fork out your eyes oshili.

 

It pokes my intelligence box with displeasure when men from my crowd do unmanly things. So please come out so we know you. Get out of the closet like the mofies. It’s just a matter of time before we call them sister John, auntie Eddy and meme Elias – true walking mistakes of manhood gone to waste.

 

MFK is a satirical column, written by a nameless individual. His views are not endorsed by the editorial policy of the publishers.




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