Everyone's Cheating, In Nairobi, Everywhere

Seriously! I just realised that everywhere I go (and I go to very many places per month, PPM) everyone’s cheating on their relationships (except me). There is a sub-culture within every generation where everyone’s cheating on everyone else. And we feel nothing about it. You’re cute, do me. In fact, it’s a tag of honour. A sign that we understand the times and are with it.

I am not religious, so I don’t have religious arguments against cheating. And to be honest, I sort of enjoy the current state of affairs. I like it the same way I like the fact that some supermarkets are open 24 hours, though I have never bought bread at 2 am in the morning. I also like the exciting stories you tell me. But deep down, it just feels wrong, lies, deceit, hurt, heart aches.

There is a total decay. Men and women alike, we pursue what we want and when we get it, we’re a success. I don’t know, I think it is our uber competitive world. By any means necessary. Or the sadness that fills our emptiness. We clutch at anything hoping it is the thing.

It’s a vicious cycle. I have been asking around and looking around. A good number of us are cheating because we think or know we’re being cheated on. We’re bitter and want to hit back. Restoring our self confidence. But only filling ourselves with guilt that makes us repeat the acts that made us guilty in the first place. After a while, we think we’re that way and everyone is that way, so let’s keep dancing. There is safety in numbers.

Blind pursuit of short lived pleasure. Then we crowd the churches on New Year’s day. We encourage others to do as we do, and they encourage us back. Only god can judge me you tell yourself. And we get strength from the knowledge that everyone is else is doing it.

Maybe it is not wrong, but for real, it doesn’t sound right.

Or perhaps it is how hard we work. We feel we deserve fun. Work hard, play hard I hear often. And we define fun in our own terms. So come the weekend, we’re down for whatever. And we can afford it. I was in this simple provincial town for 5 days; day 2, I knew all of you, day 3, I realised how ‘interestingly complicated’, (so to speak), your society was. I longed for my big complicated city. I got back on Friday evening, went straight to a story that is straight from a movie no one has the courage to make. Not even Quentin.

Religious types are the most interesting. We suspend the teachings from prophets. Or simply alter them, interpret them differently to suit our new habits of the day, with amazingly superior logic, and using pirated software.

The cumulative results on society are out. And now it’s official. Stealing is not a crime. You can steal money, steal her husband, steal his father, steal his wife, steal their time. The only crime I hear us talking about is murder and anything non-consensual, the latter only sometimes. Or dissing parents or best friends. The new gods. The commandments were updated, reduced, shortened, harmonised, customised, pimped. Any good god should love us, and it follows that they want us to be happy. Sort of.

On the 3rd day, man created god in his own image. And gave this god (these gods) the rules we want to live by. A very democratic, participatory process. Democracy, participation, rights, the new commandments.

I have no baseline, (so to speak), to compare with. The olden days seem to have been similar, if not worse. But again, by some vague accounts, we enjoyed living honest lives. Deep down we all long for and stick to these dreams. Now dishonesty runs across everything we do.

Sometimes I blame AIDS. AIDS prevention messages have been very loud, and successful. A thin strip of rubber between you and anyone is all that matters. That’s the trick. Do anything but catch nothing. Use protection. Sleep with anyone anytime, with protection.

‘How could you do it? You slept with her???? Oh no! oh no! How could you? How? We were the perfect couple!! Darling, how could you? You might have caught something!!! She goes around’

His face brightens. ‘No darl, it was only 5 times, and I used a condom all the time. Am not a fool!’ said with self righteousness. And a big smile.

‘Oh! Okay. I guess that’s different’ She concedes, smiling too, unhappy but more relieved than unhappy.

The pain is the same. Hidden. The pain drives you to do the same. With a condom. If you remember.

Or the problem is image. Self image promoted by a free media chasing profits and profits. If you’re not doing it, you’re not cool. Last night I slept with twins. I slept with Sean Paul. Shaggy did me. DJ Slick was my girl. Headllines the next day: ‘The chief priest was caught with his daughter’s best friend’. Role models play different roles in these liberal times. Don’t judge. Chief golfer does it. Endorse the best products and set the worst standards. It is hard for the rest of us to follow.

Or equality misunderstood. Women can do any job any man can do. This extends to the bad behaviour men are historically credited for. The age old polygamous hunters now have very welcome company. Co-conspirators. He can fly a plane so can I. I can also do all the social things associated, good and not so good. So we all work hard, smoke, drink, dance, steal. In equal measure. We’re equals. Men are dogs, we are only playing our part.

Or just self-inflicted standards. I cannot be seen to be alone. I must have children no matter what. I must be seen to be married, no matter how painful it is. I cannot take any pain just to be seen to be married, I must leave him. I must stay with him. I am too good to be lonely. I am too good to be sad with her. We often confuse being alone with being lonely. I have attended big parties where I have been so lonely. Don’t be afraid of your own company. Embrace aloneness.

Or rights. We promote the rights of everyone, at the expense of everyone. Prostitutes have rights. Cheaters have rights. Child abusers have rights. And everyone in between. Child abusers have formed advocacy groups championing their rights to abuse children. Abusers say they are god’s children too. Cheap logic, ‘If they (children) are too young to say yes, how can they be old enough to say no? Your honour, you must acquit’ And we are acquitted. We go back and cheat.

Sometimes I blame women. They became like us at some point. In some examples above, they gave in. They had a chance to stick to age old standards of being women, domestic, non-aggressive, assertive, home makers, but they wanted a piece of the pie. To steal, to drink, to cheat, to bald, to have pot bellies.

Sometimes I blame men. They are (were) heads of families, leaders, heads of societies. They should have set better standards. They should have changed from the polygamous, philandering hunters to a role more suited for this democratic participatory society.

It doesn’t matter who I blame. The pain is the same. Everyone is doing it, everyone is hurting for it. We’re so sad.

We can change.