I walked into the event slightly late with my girls at my side. You know those movie moments where you walk in and everything stops and everyone stares as if even your walk is in slow motion. Walking in as a group of sexy girls in Nairobi makes you feel like you are living out that movie scene. This was the type of event, however, where everyone looked good. The crowd was dressed in everything from sophisticated to bare skin sexy. It was a beautiful mix. It was such a warm lively evening that we didn’t want to sit on our behinds the whole night, so as soon as we entered and found a sitting space, we had one drink and dispersed, melting into the crowd leaving one or two of us at the comfy table to make sure no overly tipsy jerk came and stole our space. If that has happened to you before you know how frustrating it is.
As I was getting ready to head to the dance floor I saw somebody I knew. This girl, let us call her Stacy, was just leaving the VIP section. Now Stacy is your average guy’s WCW. Her cleavage was not subtle, her tight-fitting bodycon dress held on just enough that touching it would be the same as touching her skin. Let’s just say the men she passed turned their necks, and it was not her face they were looking at. She and I had been friends for a minute so naturally, I was excited to see her. She saw me and headed towards me. We screamed like teenage girls and held each other in a pretty long embrace. Letting go as our voices picked up where our hug left off. We talked in excitement about where how we hadn’t seen each other for a really long time and what was going on in our lives.
Stacy had become a famous socialite, the girl whose snap chat story was endless, and her DMs were constantly full. I was out here on the grind as well, a different kind of grind, but grinding none the less. So we both looked back at how far we had come. I was expecting to see other famous people in her crowd, especially the other girls from the reality show she was on that had gotten her name on the map. Surprisingly, however, most of the people she was with were unfamiliar, and a lot of them foreign. There were a number of West African men with girls around them.
“Come sit with us!” She nudged me over to their table and without my realizing I was drawn into her world of people. I paid less attention to the people around us and more attention to my friend because, really, that was the only reason I was here. As we were talking though I saw a dark guy make suggestive glances in my direction. When he realized we had made eye contact, he took it as an opportunity and gestured at me,
“Come over-oh,” he said in a distinguishable Nigerian accent. First of all, I won’t even lie, Nigerian men have always irked me. With that smirk, they seem to constantly have and the unhealthy dose of ego that makes them think Kenyan women are buyable. I was not about to give this man the time of day. I acted like I thought he was talking to someone else and continued my conversation with Stacy who had now introduced me to one of her other friends. I wish it ended there.
“Madam, I am calling you.” The man persisted without hesitation, insisting on getting my attention and telling me to come over to where he was sitting. First of all, if someone wants your attention they should come to you not the other way round. Secondly, this African man should have taken the bloody hint by now and gone and tried his luck with some other lass. I was blatantly ignoring him. Just take the L and move on! Instead, he continued to persist.
I finally decided to ask Stacy about it.
“Yoh, what’s wrong with your friend? He keeps calling me.”
Her response baffled me, “Don’t be a diva honey,” she laughed and rolled her eyes, “Kama unaitwa unaenda”
I didn’t know whether she was being serious or not and I gave her this incredulous look. Then she went on, “Imagine this man has a lot of mullah. Women like us should not have to suffer when there are men like this around. Let me even prove it to you, just go and tell him your bill and he will pay for it.”
This girl couldn’t be serious! She was literally suggesting that I give this guy the time of day because he could pay my bar bill. I was so irritated I stood up. I wasn’t here for this. Not tonight Satan. All I wanted to do was have a good night with my friends and enjoy the performances. She noticed her statement had irritated me and I was getting ready to leave so she stopped me,
“Babe, it is not like you have to sleep with the man,” she went into her slightly tipsy giggles, “he is just generous. If you even ask him for 10k he will give it to you. Just go and hang out with him.”
I still was not about to explain to her how demeaning she sounded. So I just told her to have fun and I left. I went back to my people and we had a pretty good evening up until midnight. It was around that time that I noticed the Nigerian man walking up to me again.
“Hey baby, why don’t you come and let’s talk.” He was still using his hand gestures to summon me over. I literally laughed out loud and refused that story,
“Sorry, I can’t hang out with you. I am actually here with my boyfriend. He is somewhere around. I am waiting for him to come back.” I thought for sure that would do the trick but apparently not.
He just stood there still staring at me like I was missing out on God’s perfect gift to women. Ohh God. What had I done to deserve this unwanted attention?! Why couldn’t he just move on? Thankfully my friend came over and distracted me. We conversed until the Nigerian man who kept trying to interject, felt sufficiently ignored and left of his own accord. My friend, Emma, started talking about the people who Stacy was hanging out with.
“You need to be careful honey. There are girls out here who get confused by these rich Nigerian expats. They come here flashing the money and the girls ingia box faster than African Politicians deny an election. Kwanza when they start going on trips to Lagos and so on that is when you know they are hooked in deep. Then they are used to recruit other girls to sleep with those men. So, don’t allow yourself to be fooled by that crowd. It is not healthy.”
We both laughed at the situation and thanked the Heavens we were not the type to fall for such bullshit. The rest of the night flew by mostly uneventful until it was time to leave. At this time, Stacy, half-drunk as everyone else probably was, walked up to me. This time she was sneering.
“Keep fucking men for free. Usipotumia urembo wako unajiwaste” she spoke in ridicule as if she was the one who deserved to feel sorry for me and not the other way around. Just because I saw through her BS, she had decided to turn nasty.
I walked out with my friends laughing. How do women allow themselves to get the point where they can rate their worth by physical value? Giving away their bodies for Gucci bags and shoes. Is it ever that serious? My friends and I laughed and moved on.
Be careful of those girl friends who are suddenly flush with cash and they have no apparent revenue stream that is making them rich enough to throw money around. Those girls are the new pimps, they will draw you in with free drinks in the club, then all of a sudden you find you are being pimped to a Nigerian guy in exchange for some money.
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***The Singlehood series is a collection of stories loosely based on real life stories. It looks at the current world of dating in Kenya and experiences that people have gone through. The views and opinions expressed here are those of the contributors and do not necessarily represent or reflect the views of Potentash.com.