I never liked these sponsor girls. They brought down the female grandeur, labelled our reputation ill and made us look like our speciality is only in the bedroom. Women were created but goldigers, those girls were made.
So my friend Sally (not her real name) has a strong affinity for a pot belly hanging on the knees with a few commas in the bank. (Not a few, I take that back). She likes what she likes and she gets what she likes but so often gets it from her mzee. Everyone gives her the side eye whenever she talks of her expensive shoes, wardrobe of dresses that everyone keeps on borrowing from, her Brazilian hair which rubs her massive derriere( apparently he bought it for her too) when she walks and that make up kit making her look like a darn Kardashian. Let’s just say she brags different.
We were straight away friends, great personality, funny for decades and never uses the word fam nor bruh nor fleek every two sentences even though she is in USIU. And she didn’t vote online. She was another version of me only that she liked silver haired men. She didn’t talk about her sponsor life and so I assumed she wasn’t one of those, I mean why bother with anyone’s bedroom transactions and statements. Plus I’m not the female Jesus.
I believe in a few things; God, family and MY own money. You work for what you want, you fight for it, and you never stop until you get it. And when you do, you parade it with an extra level of confidence because your sacrifice got you there and your sacrifice will make you stay there. Even when the pot belly walks, your money and hard work stays. Its common sense, its freedom, its independence and it’s the god damn rule of life.
But like every other girl out there I have moments of weakness. I want to lay in bed the whole day, I want to wake up to an M-pesa message instead of hey did you sleep well texts from a guy called Jeffyulemwenyeswagwaigurusrealbae, I want to have dinner parties by the shore, dine at Burj Al Juhmeira, dance with the stars, pay the karao(policeman) upfront and drive around instead of paying 250ksh just to reach Rongai. Which girl wants to stay up all night on her keyboard typing articles for some lazy ass mzungu in UK so as to get paid 2000ksh or do a marketing gig that pays weekly but cannot get her that new pair of boots that were #goals from the time the hashtag was invented or write down strategies at 2am for her new business? If you love me you gon buy me Ferrari.
So when she said ‘I sleep with them but I actually get paid for it’, I lefted. I judased and I bluetick her messages like the ones from the random guys from Whatsapp groups. A few months later, I thought maybe just maybe she is not so wrong. Some use men for fun, others to fill in that void their daddy left, some because they are idle, some because he has a beard and it feels good kissing someone who doesn’t feel like a woman or a 12year old boy but for her it’s for money. Do I agree with her methods? Not really, I was bred differently and being raised by an independent woman it would be sin if I fall short of the masterpiece she raised. But I am now less quick to judge. All I can say; Do you booboo, Do you!
We sin differently, pray differently and think differently. All the females out there trying to make their own living through this hard knock life, guop yourself! The rest of other females, remember you are not the only 20year old he is messing with and buy a house next to a VCT with that M-pesa. Atakufanya mazishi honey!