Field Marshal
Elder Lister
Why are women so evil? Are they evil?
Jana I went to say hi to an old friend at her clinic/apartment - back in the day we were supposed to be an item - and she even refused to come to the door. She told her assistant that she was busy - sleeping.
This is the second, and last time, that will happen.
Now let me give you the background.
I met the lady mid-2000s. She was an intern at KNH and I was a high-flying communications' consultant. We struck a friendship.
Sadly one or so years into our friendship, thugs raided their family home and did extremely nasty sexual things to her as her mother watched. Really nasty, not just rape.
The poor gal almost broke. As a person with some kidogo medical background, I took it upon myself to nurse her back to health. I spent tens of hours with her, sometimes picked her from KNH in my bima for coffee, and called her from my landline every night. My home phone bill sometimes shot to over 10k pm- that was really heavy duty on a Telkom landline then.
I remember one time, as we were just chilling at home alone she told me - and I am not making this shit up - "Marshal, ferk me now. Make me feel like a woman again, a beautiful woman. Those thugs only did animal things to me. Ferk me like a man and make me your woman".
She was crying.
I hugged her and declined. I wasn't going to take advantage of a broken woman still on PEP.
Months went by and she finished her internship. She started a clinic somewhere in leafy Nairobi. I became her patient, as did my matha; I wanted to boost her business.
And then life happened.
She got into an abusive relationship with a Nigerian boy and quickly bore him two children. I was aghast. I just couldn't understand how a nice, well-brought up Gikuyu gal from a rich background could go wrong that way. We drifted apart. I stopped going to her clinic because, yes, I felt jealous and two, I couldn't stand her mongrel kids or the shifty boyfriend.
But, I thought, given what I had seen her through, we were still friends. I had literally saved her life at a fairly deep cost to myself so at least we could have a respectful relationship.
Ole wangu.
Last year I was in the neibahood of her clinic and I decided to visit. She lives in the upstairs apartment.
It was drizzling kidogo. When she came to the door she refused to come to my car despite the fact that she knew I had a broken leg then. By the time I figured she wasn't going to let a single drop of rain touch her and I needed to put on my shoes and go to her, she had angrily banged the door and gone back! It took less than a minute. She refused to pick my calls.
So yesterday I decide to pay her another visit. Perhaps the last time she was just in a bad mood. I was from the Nairobi Hospital for a minor investigation and I just thought I should see my old friend, the gal I nurtured back to health and retaught how to fly. The one that flew away.
This time she didn't even come to the door. She was busy upstairs, I was told, though she didn't have any patients.
Doing what, I asked. The assistant just looked embarrassed.
As I drove back to Ndeiya, I felt an overwhelming sadness. Not anger, not frustration. Not disappointment. Sadness.
Perhaps she never healed, despite my best efforts. Perhaps she has to deal with the demons of PTSD to this day. Perhaps I somehow hurt her and I've forgotten about it. Perhaps her life has taken another bad turn. Perhaps she just doesn't want to see me again.
It is what it is. Shit really does happen.
In any case, they say, tenda wema nenda zako.
But I wondered if it was a man would he behave the way she did? I have many, many male friends and one thing I have noted is that men rarely forget any good you do to them. We as men are wired to create tribes, because it favours our survival.
I wondered, are women so innately selfish that they areinherently evil?
Perhaps, perhaps not.
Jana I went to say hi to an old friend at her clinic/apartment - back in the day we were supposed to be an item - and she even refused to come to the door. She told her assistant that she was busy - sleeping.
This is the second, and last time, that will happen.
Now let me give you the background.
I met the lady mid-2000s. She was an intern at KNH and I was a high-flying communications' consultant. We struck a friendship.
Sadly one or so years into our friendship, thugs raided their family home and did extremely nasty sexual things to her as her mother watched. Really nasty, not just rape.
The poor gal almost broke. As a person with some kidogo medical background, I took it upon myself to nurse her back to health. I spent tens of hours with her, sometimes picked her from KNH in my bima for coffee, and called her from my landline every night. My home phone bill sometimes shot to over 10k pm- that was really heavy duty on a Telkom landline then.
I remember one time, as we were just chilling at home alone she told me - and I am not making this shit up - "Marshal, ferk me now. Make me feel like a woman again, a beautiful woman. Those thugs only did animal things to me. Ferk me like a man and make me your woman".
She was crying.
I hugged her and declined. I wasn't going to take advantage of a broken woman still on PEP.
Months went by and she finished her internship. She started a clinic somewhere in leafy Nairobi. I became her patient, as did my matha; I wanted to boost her business.
And then life happened.
She got into an abusive relationship with a Nigerian boy and quickly bore him two children. I was aghast. I just couldn't understand how a nice, well-brought up Gikuyu gal from a rich background could go wrong that way. We drifted apart. I stopped going to her clinic because, yes, I felt jealous and two, I couldn't stand her mongrel kids or the shifty boyfriend.
But, I thought, given what I had seen her through, we were still friends. I had literally saved her life at a fairly deep cost to myself so at least we could have a respectful relationship.
Ole wangu.
Last year I was in the neibahood of her clinic and I decided to visit. She lives in the upstairs apartment.
It was drizzling kidogo. When she came to the door she refused to come to my car despite the fact that she knew I had a broken leg then. By the time I figured she wasn't going to let a single drop of rain touch her and I needed to put on my shoes and go to her, she had angrily banged the door and gone back! It took less than a minute. She refused to pick my calls.
So yesterday I decide to pay her another visit. Perhaps the last time she was just in a bad mood. I was from the Nairobi Hospital for a minor investigation and I just thought I should see my old friend, the gal I nurtured back to health and retaught how to fly. The one that flew away.
This time she didn't even come to the door. She was busy upstairs, I was told, though she didn't have any patients.
Doing what, I asked. The assistant just looked embarrassed.
As I drove back to Ndeiya, I felt an overwhelming sadness. Not anger, not frustration. Not disappointment. Sadness.
Perhaps she never healed, despite my best efforts. Perhaps she has to deal with the demons of PTSD to this day. Perhaps I somehow hurt her and I've forgotten about it. Perhaps her life has taken another bad turn. Perhaps she just doesn't want to see me again.
It is what it is. Shit really does happen.
In any case, they say, tenda wema nenda zako.
But I wondered if it was a man would he behave the way she did? I have many, many male friends and one thing I have noted is that men rarely forget any good you do to them. We as men are wired to create tribes, because it favours our survival.
I wondered, are women so innately selfish that they areinherently evil?
Perhaps, perhaps not.
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