It is not easy to be a man
Mar 28, 2007
AT the moment, I am still annoyed with a man called Badara Diatta. This Senegalese referee ran off with our precious goal and point from Abeokuta where we had looked into the eyes of high-riding Nigerians professionals without fear or favour.
AT the moment, I am still annoyed with a man called Badara Diatta. This Senegalese referee ran off with our precious goal and point from Abeokuta where we had looked into the eyes of high-riding Nigerians professionals without fear or favour.
So, I have even added something in my will forbidding all my descendants from marrying from Diatta’s family or naming any of their offspring by that name. It is that bad.
And as my display of patriotism, I am likely to donate some money to some ref to organise a vengeful retaliation when we are playing host. Those who feel the same way, should bring your money to my address and leave everything to me. I am too annoyed to tear off it even a cent.
Perhaps the bad feeling is not so much in the cancelling the goal. It is in the inability to do anything about it. When a man of ample size picks an argument with your wife, grabs her drink and pours it in her hair, saying some unchristian words, your wife’s reaction would be to turn to you for intervention. But if your intelligence report about the strength of the enemy shows that an attack would be suicidal, you can grab her hand and take off dragging her along – without saying a word lest you prompt the assailant to add you on the list of targets. You may want to make it seem like a tactical withdrawal — not fleeing — but still the acrid feeling of despair at failing your natural protective role as a man will be choking you.
It is similar to finding some Kanyama touring your Mabira forest, he looks at you daring you to do anything. You mutter something about being peace loving and hope you will drink the sugar that might come out of Mabira later. You see how difficult it is to be a man?
Ask one university professor in the UK. He was tired of his wife’s tormenting references of his limitations as a man. Having rolled off the assembly plant as a small slender guy, he quickly ruled out any efforts at proving his manhood with muscular display of strength. But he had to counter his wife’s provoking insinuations about men who are almost men. One time, he devised a strategy to reclaim his protective roles at home. He planned with three of his students to put on facial masks and storm his house at night pretending to be robbers. The script was that he would wake up to find three robbers armed with clubs and a plastic gun, fearlessly attack them Jack Chan style, disarm them and make them flee for dear life.
At the zero hour, things proceeded as planned. But a neighbour – those neighbours who stick their noses across the fence – saw weird looking robbers approach the house and called police. That was how the professor’s goal was disallowed and he had to look on like most Ugandans did last Saturday; defeated, helpless, impotent!
The students confessed and their lecturer just looked on sheepishly. The cops had to lock them in different coolers to avoid confrontation among former allies. But the sad ending is that the wife still did not appreciate that the professor was doing it for her.
That is part of a male life that women do not understand. When I drive like UTODA guys in a jam, argue like crazy, sometimes quoting researches that don’t exist, leave a four digit tip for a waitress or call some other peace loving person a fearful name, I am trying to impress you madam and I would appreciate it if you said something that appears like a praise of my capabilities. It makes me feel manlier and is more likely to translate into a quality fun during the time when we are making it difficult for mosquitoes to bite us.
And if you don’t, I may be forced to attack a giant and leave with a cracked head. Considering that the brain is the number one sexual organ, you may lose out too. So, please, massage your guy’s ego, it will build the relationship.
So, I have even added something in my will forbidding all my descendants from marrying from Diatta’s family or naming any of their offspring by that name. It is that bad.
And as my display of patriotism, I am likely to donate some money to some ref to organise a vengeful retaliation when we are playing host. Those who feel the same way, should bring your money to my address and leave everything to me. I am too annoyed to tear off it even a cent.
Perhaps the bad feeling is not so much in the cancelling the goal. It is in the inability to do anything about it. When a man of ample size picks an argument with your wife, grabs her drink and pours it in her hair, saying some unchristian words, your wife’s reaction would be to turn to you for intervention. But if your intelligence report about the strength of the enemy shows that an attack would be suicidal, you can grab her hand and take off dragging her along – without saying a word lest you prompt the assailant to add you on the list of targets. You may want to make it seem like a tactical withdrawal — not fleeing — but still the acrid feeling of despair at failing your natural protective role as a man will be choking you.
It is similar to finding some Kanyama touring your Mabira forest, he looks at you daring you to do anything. You mutter something about being peace loving and hope you will drink the sugar that might come out of Mabira later. You see how difficult it is to be a man?
Ask one university professor in the UK. He was tired of his wife’s tormenting references of his limitations as a man. Having rolled off the assembly plant as a small slender guy, he quickly ruled out any efforts at proving his manhood with muscular display of strength. But he had to counter his wife’s provoking insinuations about men who are almost men. One time, he devised a strategy to reclaim his protective roles at home. He planned with three of his students to put on facial masks and storm his house at night pretending to be robbers. The script was that he would wake up to find three robbers armed with clubs and a plastic gun, fearlessly attack them Jack Chan style, disarm them and make them flee for dear life.
At the zero hour, things proceeded as planned. But a neighbour – those neighbours who stick their noses across the fence – saw weird looking robbers approach the house and called police. That was how the professor’s goal was disallowed and he had to look on like most Ugandans did last Saturday; defeated, helpless, impotent!
The students confessed and their lecturer just looked on sheepishly. The cops had to lock them in different coolers to avoid confrontation among former allies. But the sad ending is that the wife still did not appreciate that the professor was doing it for her.
That is part of a male life that women do not understand. When I drive like UTODA guys in a jam, argue like crazy, sometimes quoting researches that don’t exist, leave a four digit tip for a waitress or call some other peace loving person a fearful name, I am trying to impress you madam and I would appreciate it if you said something that appears like a praise of my capabilities. It makes me feel manlier and is more likely to translate into a quality fun during the time when we are making it difficult for mosquitoes to bite us.
And if you don’t, I may be forced to attack a giant and leave with a cracked head. Considering that the brain is the number one sexual organ, you may lose out too. So, please, massage your guy’s ego, it will build the relationship.