WHEN I GET HOME FROM WORK, BABY…

I went to our local church last Sunday. I confess is a change from the church I usually attend, St. Mattress of the Sleeping Ngamau”, a very reverential church where we take the meaning of ‘day of rest’ literally and are usually sighted in deep meditation in a horizontal position. Nonetheless, I felt very strongly that there is a need to now attend a church with less limited membership and where worship is more lively. Now, our local church is fantastic. It consists of a series of little tents circling a big white tent much like the Big Top. Most of the tents are Sunday school classes where the children go to sing, read the Bible, make art and play while the Big Top engages the adults in song, prayer and sermon. For those who have never attended an African church service, the music is always very lively, more dance than choral, the drama [yes, we are fond of skits] are hilarious and the prayer, truly filled with reverence, intercession and pleading. We Africans don’t hold back when we get to the Boss. So here we were, my little boy in one of the satellite tents, and a friend and I in the Big Top. Now the music and the drama, I am always primed for, until we actually start singing. The leader up front was dancing and waving his arms and hopping across the stage. We were singing our little lungs out, at some point we were even playing the air guitar, and I mean half the church, grown men and women, playing the air guitar while the other half simulated playing the flute. We were swaying and clapping and waving and dancing to serious drum playing… All these people, all like me, many of whom I recognise from childhood or youth, all singing away on a Sunday morning, under a big white tent with long red flowing sashes… It brought tears to my eyes. I hadn’t realised how much I had missed being in a Kenyan church. It felt good to be back. Real good. Now the theme at our local church is “You Pretty Young Thing…. Families in Trouble”. Fair enough. So in keeping with the theme, three men were asked to stand up and share with the womenfolk, a few things they wish the women knew about how the men would like to be treated at home. HELLOOOO!!!! Ambush!!! It’s all very well to hear a sermon on this from the preacher, but some regular Joes getting up to lay it on us? I don’t think so!!! You can just imagine how as one body, all the women’s hacks rose in anticipation of having to commit ‘manicide’ in the church on a Sunday. Nevertheless, like sacrificial lambs, the men got up and one by one went through their points. They were basically; From Man A; When I get home from a hard day’s work, I want to come in to the sweet and savoury aromas of lovely food in the kitchen. I would love to be met at the door by you, looking lovely and holding a drink in your hand, for me. I would like to sit down and read my paper. It would be preferable if the children could line up one at a time, come and say hello then go away immediately to their rooms. Dinner at the table should involve very light conversation, very, very light conversation after which I shall retire to my paper and the children will be taken to sleep. I shall then come upstairs, we shall engage in lovemaking and I shall fall asleep a happy and contented man. From Man B; Please encourage and affirm me. Many of us are in business and it’s a harsh world out there. I need someone to be on my side. When I come home, pat me on the back. When I close a deal, congratulate and celebrate with me, when I am low, cheer me up. Even in bed, let me know that ‘I got it going on’. From Man C; We generally agreed as men that our women are fashion conscious, well groomed and stylish… except in the bedroom. Something strange happens and our fine looking women don stockings on their heads, multicoloured socks on their feet and then get into bed!!! We don’t expect femme fatale at every turn but please lose the stockings and socks!!! We’re a visual bunch and some visions bring about nightmares, sleep talking and other signs of deep trauma! Now, I can already hear my Sistas seething but hold up, girls, hold up because the MC pastor then asked us to turn to our neighbours, preferably a member of the opposite sex that you do not know, and ask what other points the man in the conversation may have to add. Now I was sitting between two men, one I know, the other I don’t so I turned to the one I didn’t know and he added, “When I come home from work, don’t greet me with a glum face and a big gripe. I know you probably had a hard day and sometimes it’s not possible to look happy but before you take your day out on me, let me come in, tell me how your day was and allow me to exhale.” The one I did know wouldn’t say anything save, “What brave men! We shall have to contribute towards a good funeral for each for they have said what we dare not.” Okay, let me put some comments in context for my non-Kenyan friends. First, this is a general observation and as with all such generalisations, there exist exceptions. Having said that this is the point. In Kenya, children from working class families, particularly urban families, are not brought up by their parents. They are raised by house helps, nannies and other hired people. FYI, by working class I mean anyone who can afford at least one car and/or has electricity in their home. So before you see visions of women bathing, cooking, feeding, cleaning etc, the reality is that one, but usually two people are hired to take care of the kids and the house. Now, Kenyans, this is not a value judgement, it is just the truth about the life choices by many Kenyans of the class mentioned. It is the same for the middle class and the rich. Secondly, men’s roles are still seen as bringing home the money then sitting back and not engaging in the family life save as an ATM, a driver to church on Sunday for those who attend, and occasional source of entertainment i.e. going out to eat roast meat, a favourite Kenyan pass time. When Man A, in his early thirties espouses a Von Trapp family lifestyle, it is because that reflects his view of his level of engagement with his children, a view much supported by other Christian and ’secular’ men. Having said that, women’s work is never done. Even when they get home, they still have to engage the children, help with the homework, have them ready for dinner and put to bed before they can rest. They then have to perk themselves up to be sexually alluring for their men. Inside all of that, they have to find time for themselves and a way to exhale from their own hard day at work. Many men are considerate about that and will help around but this is not considered ‘normal’. It is a ‘special’ man in Kenya who goes home after work to tuck his children in to sleep or help out with the homework. They exist though, I know because I know some. I know what you non-Kenyans are wondering. What about values and principles and moulding of the children? That is the responsibility of the house help and the school both under the supervision of the children’s mothers. The greatest majority of Kenyan families have two working parents, where by working I mean either employed or running a business away from the home. Being a stay-at-home mom is generally perceived as a waste of valuable resources and also as unnecessarily risky on the part of the woman. The laws in Kenya as relate to marriage, children and marital property are so antiquated that women are viewed at best as half human, at worst, as chattels. While recent judgements have tried to redress the inequalities and injustices that result from the laws, they cannot protect against men transferring family resources to second wives, extra marital children, mistresses etc, a practice very common in Kenya. A lot of married women in Kenya generally view it as risky to rely on your man and on the law to protect them, thus the need to have a job or independent money ‘just in case’. Now, this is not a treatise on the state of Kenyan marriages, so let’s get back to the men and their wishes. I’ve probably mentioned that Man A is in his early thirties, while men B and C looked more in their later 30s early 40s. It is interesting for me that all of them wanted to be treated like heroes and wanted to be stimulated, primarily visually. I started to really think about this and what hit me was Despite all protestations to the contrary, it’s not just the girls who want to live out fairy tales, the boys do too. They want to be the knight in shining armour. They want to be the hero in the story, coming home weary and worn from battle. Walking into the warm embrace of their beautiful damsel who welcomes him with a smile and a kiss [and hopefully a drink]. Take heart, girls, the boys still want the fairy tale ending. We just need to synchronise our endings so we’re all on the same page. Men are really not that different from women. They too want to be pampered, spoilt, babied even. The style may be slightly different but they want it nonetheless. Girls want flowers and chocolates and dinners and talk and good sex. Boys want dinner and cuddles and good music and silence and understanding and, from listening to a number of them, lots of sex. Right there, there’s a point both contentious and also quite similar in result. Men want lots of sex, women want good sex. Men, why not find out what she means by good sex, then do that. I guarantee that if you do, you’ll get what you want i.e. lots of it. Trust me, there is nothing worse than having to fake it, night after night after night because he is so flipping sensitive that if you say, “Why not try this tonight instead of that“, he will hold it against you for the next five years of your marriage. I actually think boys and girls should get ‘sengas’ the traditional Baganda women who teach women how to sexually stimulate men. Now I appreciate that in Kenya only a few communities still teach their young men and women how to have good game, but maybe the church could run some classes. That would debunk the myth about sex being evil or being outside the purview of God. Sex classes for married couples!! That’s my campaign. Like women, men like to be visually stimulated. I have got to confess this is great. I was so thrilled when he said that bit because I can now say this, Boys, get in shape and stay in shape!!!! We marry these broad shouldered, big chested, flat tummy hunks with fab legs and bristling biceps, then along the years, something happens. Now I agree that we women lose the plot too but in our defence, childbirth and child rearing demands a change in body shape, structure and size. So that’s our excuse. What’s yours? And no, I don’t expect my man not to gain pounds or soften a little, that’s expected. Heck, I like some meat on a man. It’s just when we both look 6 months pregnant, me because I am, you although you are not… it takes that much more will to find you attractive. Okay, I say no more. I reckon the point is made. Hit the gym, Boys. Girls may not say it but we love a buff man. Next week, three women get to stand up and tell the men what they would like. Bring out the recorders and note pads, Boys. We’ve been waiting a long time to tell you some home truths.