It’s hard for Nairobi men to ignore the boobs shoved to their faces

I have a confession to make. Last week, while I was on a bus heading to work, I saw a 50-year-old staring and gawking at the ‘dashboard’ of a young woman. That’s not cool. I almost flogged the old-minded boob-lover for violating the young woman’s chest department in public.

Then something happened. Six more young women boarded the bus at the General Motors stage. They wore heavy lipstick, swore like dockers obviously were the kind to party like rock stars. They were dressed as if they were on their way to a strippers’ convention. I thought my jaws were going to hit the floor.

The young women, apart from being in their twenties, had something else in common; they wore those sexy bras that cover only the nipples. I know I risk sounding like a drunken writer if I go on, so I’ll stop now. The invasion could not escape the driver who followed the events at the back through the rear-view mirror. The male conductor also took a good five minutes collecting bus fare from the girls, and another 10 minutes giving back the change. All this time, his lewd eyes kept searching their hearts. His eyes were faster than his thoughts. Pardon me, but did I mention that these skimpily-dressed ‘breast’ friends appeared keen on getting something off their chests. I couldn’t figure it out. I am a good Christian, you know.

I get it, even on the streets, there should be an allowable limit of boob-time, unless you are from the village where hanging breasts are part of the dress code. Still, there has to be an allowable limit of boob-time. She can see you staring at her. Stupid! Look, don’t stare. One second is enough. If you are creative, you can live a lifetime inside of one second. You are a man, not a monster, so be respectful in that one second. Two seconds is absurdity. Three seconds is a sin.

That bus ride taught me one thing; it’s difficult time to be a man in Nairobi, not with those bare-chested, 20-year-olds littering the city. Just why would young girls who have just joined college advertise their boobs like it’s a new religion? These girls dress in handkerchiefs, the kind of dressing that will easily put them on the front pages of newspapers across the world. They are so stubborn they don’t fear catching pneumonia, which is why you will find them in clubs dancing and chugging down vodka shots as Kenya looks on, aghast. Just dress up, silly!

I now understand why a world that’s obsessed with breasts, women who are not blessed in the chest department can often feel a little... deflated! Which I am told is not a very good feeling.