A father-son chat to defuse tensions

Nairobi; Kenya: My son Jimmy has grown into a fine young man who makes me feel proud as a father.

He attends church on most Sundays, shows due respect to his elders and is generally well-behaved.

Besides that, he is such a hard-working boy that he makes bees look lazy —  with the proper motivation, of course.

Coming to academics, even though his school reports have consistently proven that he is not the brightest crayon in the box, I would say he is doing fine.

However, despite these accolades, I think I can predict my future daughter-in-law.

I know the question lingering in your mind right now is “What kind of banana oil is Baba Jimmy peddling here, claiming to know his son’s future? Or has he been consulting Prophet Owuor?”

Well, those are good questions, but the answer to both is no.

Still, any parent will agree that teenagers’ romantic affairs can leave one with an earthquake in the stomach, what with the dangers of unwanted pregnancies, heartbreaks and romantically transmitted diseases.

Happily, I have been spared this agony all along, until last Sunday. 

It was that arid time of the month, meaning I had no cash to donate to the local watering hole. Thus, I spent the day lying in state on my favourite couch while holding a staring contest with my TV.

With me was the comptroller, who kept complaining that Jimmy had overstayed at the shopping centre, where she had sent him for groceries.

Well, this did not surprise me, as Jimmy has never been known to be punctual. The only time he keeps time is during mealtimes.

Around noon, we heard shrill, riotous noises coming from the direction of our gate and rushed out to see.

No, it was not a bunch of local football fans, but Sue and Monica, two neighbourhood girls. The two were fighting over Jimmy!

“Jimmy is mine!” Sue was saying. “No! He is my boyfriend, you liar!”

Monica screamed as Jimmy stood there, looking as confused as a deer  caught in the headlights.

After successfully halting the high-octane wrangle, the comptroller and I stood back and listened to the girls’ story.

From their acerbic exchange, we gathered that Monica is Jimmy’s official flame. Ironically, she also happens to be Sue’s best friend.

Unknown to Monica, Jimmy has secretly been seeing Sue, and the two had been enjoying a stolen moment right in Sue’s house while her parents were away.

And if you thought our army has been careless for discarding dangerous, unexploded ordinances like used toffee wrappings all over Samburu County, check this out for size: the two lovebirds had forgotten to lock the door, which is how Monica had walked into the house and busted them.

Thus, she had immediately when gung-ho on her new-found rival, giving rise to the hubbub.

Being the genius he is, Jimmy sprinted for our gate, leaving the lasses behind as they clawed the beejesus out of each other’s faces.

Now, Sue is the gold standard among neighbourhood girls — a real beauty queen in the making.

I wish I had counted the number of boys I have seen hovering at her gate, their acne-covered faces filled with hope, just so you can see the kind of boy-magnet she has become. On her part, Monica is another top-of-the-shelf gem. She is also one of the brightest girls in Jimmy’s class.

Long story short, Jimmy and his inamorata had been caught in flagrante delicto.

He should count himself lucky that Mama Sue had not caught him, as she would probably have introduced his face to the business end of her frying pan.

Somewhere in the sewers of my brain, I was secretly delighted to learn that my son has become the kind of a person for neighbourhood girls to clash over.

But Mama Jimmy did not share in my wicked delight.

“You are in big trouble, young man,” she hissed at the mortified lad, referring to the botched grocery-shopping errand, while conveniently dodging the contentious fighting side of the incident.

The girls left the scene soon afterwards, but not before we made them promise to uphold a hastily-brokered ceasefire.

So there you have it, fellow Kenyans.

My son has been switching girls like political parties. I had assumed that he lives on the leeward side of relationships, but how wrong I was!

Deep down, I know it would be futile to bar him from mingling with these neighbourhood beauties.

Thus, I walked him back to the house for a long fatherly chat.