You see her there, long dark legs, radiant smile, large bright eyes, tucked neatly in the corner of the boot. A glass of wine and a girlfriend or two for company. It’s Friday; wait, suppose it is Wednesday. As usual it is pouring in Nairobi. Traffic’s unbearable and the only reason you bothered coming in here anyway was you were tired of waiting at the bus stop and by God you are not getting rained on again tonight. Besides you have a few coins to spare. So to the bar it is.
You catch her eye, and the kind of smile that meets yours is enough to convince you that you made the right decision. You land a seat at the bar and have the tall, cold glass of beer that has been on your mind since Sunday. You are feeling nice and quite philanthropic, a round for the ladies in the corner as well. The barman complies and bangs your mug on the counter before heading off to get the ladies’ orders. An appreciative giggle reaches your ear – let the games begin.
It’s the bad side of mid-month, the nineteenth. Your money and your wallet seem to be colluding in the world’s most annoying game of hide-and-go-seek, without your permission. Yet for some reason you can’t resist the urge to dig deeper, to walk over to the booth, introduce yourself and at least attempt to lure her away – if only to get to know her name.
Innocent Enough.
Only it works. And those beautiful long legs in the incredibly high heels and perfectly tailored skirt follow yours and you find yourself pulling another chair to your spot at the bar and settling down to conversation. If only you could hear a thing.
You can’t though, can you? Between the beers and the lights and the music and the dizzying movement of her lips… What color are they anyway? Red, purple, pink, fuchsia? Doesn’t matter. It’s raining. She’s here. The bar is warm
Wild Philanderer
For the record, I am a woman. Were I the onlooker and not the entertainee, it may be easy to mistake her – us – for some wild, philandering opportunist out to make the most of what, at best, would have been another lonely, fog-filled night. Filled with a bunch of women she can barely stand during the day but whose company she must desperately oblige on pain of questions from the ever-vigilant eyes of the walls in a husbandless, childless apartment. Questions she’d rather not answer.
It may also be very easy to assume that she is either one of those incredibly hardened corporate women that clawed their way to the top and are determined to stay there. That she does not care for family and relationships. That she despises men and all their opinions with the utmost disdain; or maybe she is a sly gold-digger faking it to make it. In some cases you would be right, too right in fact.
For most, this would be an insult added only to the injuries accumulated along the long road of struggle that led to this place. Here she can sit comfortably; riding along on a wave of pinks, purples, fuchsias and reds over some blush and eyeliner.
Nairobi’s woman, that confusing, tantalizing being commanding attention with just a look, reciting the contents of every shelf of every department store between Nairobi and Kinoo. She’s all shine and glitter but make no mistake, she comes with the highest recommendation. She is the reason why you, your wallet and your rent squabble more and more every month.
Opportunity
Careful now; while she may be sitting there smiling in your face all calm and compliant, she is anything but an easy ride. She is not a mannequin. She has worked for every stitch that rides on her well accentuated waist. And with inflation figures of 7.04% and an ever increasing cost of doing business you really should be home and in bed.
The fact is women are increasingly earning more. The ladder has been climbed and the glass ceiling knocked on. More and more board rooms have female members, more and more female CEOs, CFOs, COOs. With these larger numbers of working, higher-earning, single women comes a higher spending power. And with that greater opportunity – opportunity to spend, to misspend, to travel, to hold court at the bar until all hours of morning, opportunity to pack up and move to a better part of town.
It’s a simple calculation: as long as demand outweighs supply prices will escalate. As long as there is someone who is determinedly unwilling to return to a former life of mud and matatus and second hand clothes, pays, commodity prices will either stagnate or rise even higher. And with no concern for children or husband or even necessarily home, she is entitled to such high luxury and rightly so.
The Spiral
Your rent gradually increases as more and more beautiful, younger, childless women migrate and congregate in the city. Your groceries also increase in price and decrease in quantity because the market has more customers and therefore higher demand.Then comes the real pinch – the bill at the end of the night. Long dark legs, beautiful, perfect hair, perfect dress and heels, painted lips. Bottle after bottle, cocktail after cocktail, smiles and conversation.
Rightly you know you should sign off and go. The wallet is seriously not smiling; the boys are waiting anyway. Rightly you know she could well pay her way and if truth be told, yours as well.
But you asked her out, again.
And she came. With her beautiful face and her red, orange, pink, purplish lips, driving her little paid-off car, on a full tank of petrol. You asked and she came and now holds the smile as you both walk out the door and into the lot. She to her tiny, trusty car, driving off into the night to send you a late-night text with a kiss and emoticon at the end.
You take the kiss and continue your slow walk into the darkness to the nearest bar where you know the boys are waiting knowing you have just been played. Not by the rent, not by the price of super petrol, nor by the hunger pangs of a rambling stomach at two o’clock in the morning. No. You’ve been played by a skirt and high heels, by a pretty face and expensive perfume, by conversation and laughter. Worse, by a pair of perfectly painted lips.