There comes a time when the debate, contest, sparring or whatever you choose to call the vicious contestss between men and women in modern society, need to be set aside. I hate seeing women suffer unfairly and foolishly under the guise that they are independent or under the misguided notion that what men can do they can do better.
Last weekend I accompanied my friend to a garage here in the capital city to have his car fixed. Since we are smart men, we carried a bottle of whiskey to nourish our throats as the mechanic fixed the throttle of the Subaru. A few minutes later a lady drove in with one of those little cars that the Japs are fond of making for women.
She didn’t have an idea of what the problem with her car was; all she knew is that it was making loud noise at the back wheels. She had a quick chat with the mechanic, left him with the car keys and ‘ubered’ herself to some salon to make her hair. The grin on the mechanic’s face told it all.
It was a windfall for him. He removed the shock absorbers, rehabilited them, applied black paint on them and sourced for a receipt from a nearby auto spares shop. As much as the lady was walking around the garage with an aura of a peacock, I really felt sorry for her.
The mechanic basically sold her back her items. I made an attempt to protest but when I remembered how she had sneered at us like a sophomore on her school day out, I chose to mind my business.
Ladies, having the same jobs, earning the same salaries, drinking the same whiskey and driving the same car does not make you equal with the men. Get it?! Any good race must come to an end. Just ask the outgoing Kiambu governor.
You spend the five days in a week, eight hours chest thumping or should it be bust thumping how you have become equal with men, please remember Friday evening and Saturday beckons.
The Friday evenings comes when you will need company to go eat nyama choma at that very dingy place but has the best meat in town. Friday evening comes with the complexities of navigating home at midnight while avoiding the countless traps laid out by NTSA on the roads.
Fridays evenings come when you would need your male friends to advise you if the man you have been dating for the last three weeks is a reliable and trustworthy man or a play boy out for just another play time with you.
Friday evenings come when you need men in your life to caution you against mixing all sorts of alcohol simply because you see them doing so forgetting that while they hauled kilos of nyama choma and ugali, you just nibbled on one piece of meat simply because you are watching your diet, and your waist too. When the aftermath checks in you need to be hospitalised.
Ladies, you need to keep some men close to you to help you deal with the surprises of Saturday when your car suddenly ‘gasps out of air’ in the middle of the highway. You need men in your life to handle the garage business of your car.
Mechanics love female clients. You will drive into a garage with a loose battery and therefore it’s giving you problems to start, and the mechanic will figure it out the moment he opens the bonnet.
However, in order to make money out of you, he will open up all the nuts and bolts that he can possibly reach and ask you to come back after three hours so that he hands you a labour fee of several thousand shillings.
That is a job that would have taken three seconds to tighten the nuts. Do you still have the temerity to claim that we are equal?