K for Kairitu
Before I started getting marital advice from TikTok videos of ‘keep her if her name starts with..’, in my heyday I dated a Muthamaki.
Mali safi. Wittier than James Orengo after lunch at Ranalo Fish & Chips. Unlike your polemicist girlfriend who meets your problems with a “wah, sa utado?” (that’s not elite mentality bro), she was visceral.
She had the kind of attitude that didn’t make me want to rocket launch myself into the moon.
Imagine dating someone who doesn’t know your daily avocado nutritional requirements? #YourGalCanNever
But dating a Kikuyu lady is a calling. And that is why I hang up (my wallet). Also, it was a reverse call. It was the living embodiment of dancing with a coffin. No, really.
I know many people will complain that Kikuyu ladies love money. I am no exception. And because ass is not important to me, because let’s face it, in the grand scheme of things, ass is just good to look at. Hahahahhahahaha you didn’t fall for that did you? Kwani hujui jokiso? I love ass. The Ciru syndrome which is inevitably balanced out with big boobs, only makes sense if you are Joan Kubia..
“No ass, no us.” – Socrates, 1850AD.
Anywhoo, I love eating pancakes, just not in bed. But (heeyyy), I am progressive so a proper woman is more than just ass and boobs. Besides, what Daughter of Mumbi lacks in ass, she makes up for in mass. Yum.
Show me one kikuyu girl who can twerk and I will show you a humble luo…I know many of my Kikuyu friends are cashing feelings..nie maundu maya! Let’s just say if you are reaching for njahi then you’ve already lost this argument. Infact njahi should be sold in hardwares, just next to the sawdust section.
In principle, she will not marry you ati because you have a television…and no vision. Kikuyu women are the real deal. If you don’t have one as a wife, have one as a mpango wa kando.
Speaking of, si you know me I am a romantic guy. So I am always looking out for the classics; Vanessa Williams, Mariah Carey and the likes of Westlife. Ama you think what songs do I recommend Wabosha? Athuri, I listened to Franco Wa Sumbu & Gathee Wa Njeri until I started drinking White Cap, walking around with a toothpick & wearing corduroy cowboy hats with Timbaland boots.
Agiginyani! My brother, agiginyani!
They may be prudes, but sure as hell they are crude. A couple of kikuyus have chewed my money and I’ve chewed a couple of kikuyu ladies… and I am not done yet…jokes.
Talking from experience, a muthamaki will become an alchemy of sorts, cook you spaghetti, cabbages and rice for supper, or what I call Trial By Mashakura. You can’t cook but what to stir the pot? I mean, who does that to a man? Rirry? And when you go to bed, she’ll shamelessly tell you, shomerea.
My sister, even if you are Riggy G, where will you get the energy to shomerea? Nie digehota! Muthamaki man, can your can can this can?
And don’t even get me started on wall units.
But I guess my biggest problem and why our relationship never worked is that she insisted on vitambaa. My God. Vitambaa everywhere. Kwa meza. On the bed. TV. Wall unit. Toilet seat. Boss, even her father’s probox had vitambaa. And my beloved redio!
Thie ukiumaga! Kikuyu women! If I hadn’t given my heart to Christ, it would be yours.
By Eddy Ashioya