Lessons they won’t teach you.

September has been a month to put to book and bed. From Brett Kavanaugh to Sharon Okoth to Jacque Maribe. I can’t be the judge to whatever happens to the former. Sexual harassment isn’t something you sweep under the carpet over a ‘sorry’. And so for false pretence to defame an individual. Ultimately, the truth sticks out after all paint is washed down. Time does it’s work.

Closer home, and closer to heart, November’s events went to show how the wrong route just never leads you home. You might have the exclusive pleasure of enjoying the scenes first hand but you sure ain’t going home. One way or the other, you gotta turn back lest the dark catches up with you miles away from home.

So, yeah. It’s none of my business that a girl dates the guy who bullied her dad in primary school. Or a guy with the eyes for a portal to the promised land. It’s none of my business that a campus girl climbs the social ladder by sleeping her way up there with the high and mighty. After all, it’s her body. It’s certainly not my business that a girl keeps a trophy drama boyfriend just because he has a fat wallet. Neither is it my business that Friday nights end up in unWANTED pregnancies or death.
It’s however my business if it were my sister being dragged through the mud, fending for a guy who was too stupid to know that the system just doesn’t care whether or not he’s a big shot from whatever hole he emanated. Yes, it is my business if it is my sister screaming from six feet under, muffled by the heap of earth above her. Seeking an elusive justice. Weeping for dear life. Just because the crispy bills became too sweet to dip a single finger in, she had to go in with her knuckles, fist, wrist and face.

Insomuch as we may want to demonize poor Okoth Obado for his role in the murder of the late Sharon Okoth, a lot of lessons need to be drawn by our girls. One being; the world just doesn’t give a damn!

Ladies. Please say this after me; “I – SHALL – NOT – DATE – MY – FATHER’S – PRIMARY SCHOOL -BULLY. SO -HELP – ME – GOD!”

Woe unto you if at any point you thought bwana ‘pays the rent’ cares about you. He does not care about anything more than he does his family. That is, if he does at all. That’s why the sex will always happen in cheap lodgings with poor lighting, pitiful room service, mosquitoes and unmatched slippers under the squeaky bed. That’s why he will always leave that lodging and drive all the way to Naivasha before giving you the greenlight of peeping anything in the ballpark of your instinct through the window.

You think a pregnancy will trap him? Hook him?
Yes, he always begged for unprotected sex. They all do. That’s what you’re paid for. Hello?! But the baby won’t hook him to you because he has so much to lose admitting that he has a child out there with a girl half his granddaughter’s age. Chances are, he will still chose his family over you. Even when the options go to the depth of gunning you down because he knows what’s at stake. So if you can’t stick to noodles like your fellow campus queens (queens?! Laughable!) then don’t get pregnant!

Well, I’m speaking to a lady who just can’t sleep at night without resting her face on a greying hairy chest. But if you know what you’re worth, it’s not too hard to quit altogether. There’s nothing as bad as having another woman crying under their lampshade every night over you. Do not be that strike that breaks a family because somehow in the end karma comes calling in the prettiest ways you can imagine. Didn’t end well for Sharon. Unfortunately.

I could go all day giving you a talk down on your fathers’ highschool nightmares going down on the apple of his eye, forgetting the drama kings you settle for. Shame.

It doesn’t matter whether his looks cause angels to bow down, tempted to touch. Whether he has such a fine toned body, he can’t fit in any ‘schedule’. Whether his smile made the crescent moon jealous. If his character is questionable, run like the hawkers when they insomuch as smell ‘kanjos’ from a mile away. R-U-N because the guy will smudge your life in seconds.

So what if he can sit on his wallet and see tomorrow? He will use your heart for a playhouse and when he’s done, move to your brains. Money won’t cover for lost time and shattered dreams, darling. Chose your fuck-worthy carefully.

Our dear Jacque is a perfect example of what happens to you when you choose whatever she did over character. They mess you up immediately you look back at them with googly eyes. Ladies. A guy who loves you won’t dare sleep with a girl, slit her throat, and proceeded to shoot himself with some gun to lead evidence to self defense (a foolish way to prop a murder scene if you ask me) in your house. He doesn’t even like you. I’m beginning to wonder if he even likes himself.

Leave the gun part aside. A guy who’s capable of slitting another’s throat and watches her blood spatter all over your ceramics is just crazy. It doesn’t matter whatever lines the poor lady crossed. Jacque, you’re dating a psycho! The boy is a sociopath who needs more science and faith than he does jail and beans!

The people who Jacque purported to be her friends are nowhere to be seen. Even the media house she works(?) in doesn’t want anything to do with her. Like they always do for anyone else who had the odds against their favor. Poor little things! The instances go to show that when the boat starts taking in water, the only people who will toss you a life line are your blood. Not even the the best of friends who coaxed you into taking the bait. Oh, they will run like hell!
So ladies before you ‘cross the seven seas’ for the drama boys and the prayer item of your father’s youthful days, think twice about who will try pulling you out of the boat if it starts sinking. Choose your fuck-worthy.


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