Why Kenyan men can’t be romantic: They think chivalry, like chlamydia, is some STD

I recently returned from the city of Saint Petersburg after a couple of glorious weeks soaking in the World Cup in that most literary of cities.

Russian women are reputed for their beauty and Russian guys for being ‘hardcore’ (siloviki), but while the former may be true, the latter was not my experience in ‘Peter’ (as residents affectionately call that pretty city). Turns out Russian men, from my observation, are actually very romantic (at least the guys of ‘Peter’ are); and romantic in that most old fashioned of ways — very chivalrous.

Now I know there are many of my fellow Kenyan dudes who think ‘chivalry,’ like chlamydia, is some sort of STD — and will need to look the word up in the dictionary. But the literal romance I witnessed in ‘Peter’? I was there with my kid sister (who lives in the ‘diaspora,’) and this guy called Igor at one of the World Cup pubs decided he was moved by my younger sister’s ‘chocolate’ beauty.

Who cares if Igor may have had too much vodka by the time he laid eyes on Gina? He marshaled three of his friends, and they rolled round to our table, and he serenaded my sis with an awful rendition of ‘sugar, sugar, you are like candy, you are my chocolate lass …’ as his friends held an unsteady ‘dum-de-dum’ beat, like in some cheesy sitcom.

But my sis found it all very sweet! Igor, after more vodka and visual infatuation, decided to pen a poem, although his English is very poor – but there’s always Google Translate, right?

Which is how he ended up telling Gina that she is ‘like puss,’ when I think he meant she is feline. Half time break that demonstrates the Dangers of ‘Google Translate.’

My wayward cousin, Cypy Nyakundi, decided the other day to warn Tottenham footballer Victor Wanyama, who is back home on break, against dangers of slay queens and hangers’ on, after seeing Wanyama in some group selfies on social media.

Wrote Cypy Nyakundi — ‘Naona Wanyama amekuwa socialite. Chunga bro. Hawa washenzi wenye walikuwa wananyonya Oliech ndio bado walikam kumharibia jina venye alisota! Kwanza huyo Fundi Frank naskia anaitishangia wasee pombe, then anahepa kulipa bill. Ng’ombe ya mtu!’

Google Translate: I see animals has been the socialite. Watch brother. These the ones who were to be married to the rest of the world, they still had to destroy the name the way he First that mechanic Frank. I hear he’s calling for folk alcohol, then he gives without paying the bill. The cow of someone!’

In St Petersburg, men open doors and pull chairs for women in the restaurants, and pour their drinks for them. When it gets chilly on the streets, they give them their coats.

They like to take long strolls in the city with their sweeties, (although I must excuse us here, as a walk from Uhuru Park to Bus Station is among the least romantic things anyone can do on this planet.) Flowers are sold, and openly carried by men on the way home to their women, on the metro-train. Here, the only time you will spot a Kenyan dude carrying a bouquet of flowers is on Valentine’s Day. And even then, they are so hidden, you would think someone is a courier of cocaine.

I think this embarrassment of romance has its roots in the ‘African’ way of our fathers. You never heard the word ‘love’, let alone any PDA, between our parents. And on the streets, the man walked several metres ahead of his wife.

The danger of this dearth of open affection are men in their 30s and 40s and 50s who think telling a woman ‘I’ll take care of you’ and flashing cash, (or worse, ‘you have child bearing hips, I can marry you’) is the height of romance. The worst are young men, armed with technology, and no idea of how to court a young woman. Their cycle of romance – as expressed in that song ‘Double Tap’ (tulianza na ka selfie) – is a funny forward, followed by a sext, and next thing you know, they have send the lady a ‘penny’ on phone (that’s not an mpesa, but a picture of their p*n*s). That just says you are a prick.