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Gracey Eunice
Written by Gracey Eunice
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My English primary teacher was one person you couldn’t mess around with language especially grammar and let you go scot-free.

I once had to weed all the flowers in the school compound for addressing a male teacher as a she.

I’m a social media person. Not the one that keeps updating the world with the “having lunch with bae” or “at the beach with my girls” kind of updates.

I go through all my media pages after my morning prayer and keep scrolling through them the whole day because it has become my other source of writing inspiration. I get to learn things no school teaches and when it gets boring I do a lot of stalking.

So when the other day I came across a normal update from a friend reading “my boyfriend is more beautiful than yours” I couldn’t help but stop and have a good look at the post.

By a good look I mean I opened the whole post for a better view of the picture, see who liked and who commented what on that particular picture.

Well, the picture was of a good looking young man with a smile that will get you glued. In a normal correct English situation I would agree with the picture that the young man was handsome.

Normally, when you agree with someone’s post on most social media platforms you only have to tell the person that you agree by pressing the like button or you can as well go ahead and express it by commenting on the post.

I should have pressed the like button but With my English teacher all over my mind, I let my fingers  lead me in the comment box, typed “ Beautiful boyfriend?” and then went ahead and tagged my English teacher on the comment.

If you’re following well, you’ll understand that tagging or mentioning someone in a comment is like telling them to view that particular post because they’ll be notified and on checking it out they’ll be able to see whatever you wanted them to see.

So my intention was home and I closed down her page and went on with my usual scrolling and stalking.

Incase you’re wondering what  happened, well my English teacher saw the ‘beautiful boyfriend’ in the post and the conversation that followed got me blocked and the whole post pulled down.

You see, I’m not the kind of person that easily jumps to conclusions but I must admit that on this particular day I made my conclusions so fast  that when I later came to understand the meaning of “  beautiful boyfriend/a beautiful man” I  almost reminded my English teacher that  not every sentence with “sex” means the sexual act. It could be gender or could be carrying another local meaning.

As I later came to learn from my honest friends, “A beautiful man” is used to refer to a man that is so lady like.

I’m one person who doesn’t forget easily, especially the meaning of words.

So the other day while doing my window shopping in one shoe shop I love visiting, I overhead girl to girl talk.

“Cheki vile Yule boy ni mrembo!”

Looking in the direction of the person being referred to as ‘boy mrembo’, I couldn’t help but break into a laugh. The “beautiful man” was in front of a mirror with an I phone with emoji stickers all over the phone taking selfies.

I honestly know of men who really love taking selfies and would never forget their selfie sticks but I’ll be lying when I say I’ve seen men who stand before washroom mirrors or  boutiques mirrors to take  selfies.

I walked out of the shop with a big smile plastered on my face.

It was in the middle of the day and the sun was so high in the sky. I decided to buy myself a bottle of cold water to cool down my now burning throat.

I sat down on a bench beside a young man in a similar state as mine.

After gulping down his water, he took out a Nivea lip balm, rolled it up and down his lips before embracing the scorching sun and walking to wherever he was going.

I must admit I know about Nivea jelly, Nivea lotion for men, Nivea perfume for men but Nivea lip balm for men? I couldn’t agree less, there are beautiful men.

I love the classroom back seats, partly because I don’t like being picked to answer questions often but mostly I love listening to every silent story that is always told in murmurs at the back.

The ladies on my left are the slay queen generation, my favorite generation.

“What were you doing Mwende? I waited you for more than an hour na ulisema ushatoka hao?”

 I get off the earphones in my ears lest I miss the best part of the conversation.

“Imagine Sammy alikuwa anatumia mirror na sikuwa nimemealiza kuvaa. He can take the whole day to prepare. Sitakagi anitakungulie kuoga”

“Sammy is your boyfriend, right?” I almost ask but I remember I’m not part of the conversation so I shut my mouth and let my ears be part of the conversation.

“Ni vile anapenda urembo, wewe muelewe tu.”

“Nakuambia anajipenda,by the way hata yeye ndo alaniintroduce kwa mama Maina.yeye huenda huko for pedicure na manicure kila sato.”

The lecture walks in, ending our conversation.

I sit staring at the man at the front of the class preaching something about the Congo government as I let my mind wander.

Somewhere in the middle of the lesson a young man walks into the class and stops at the front trying to find an empty seat.

“Slay king! Slay king!” the class roars.

“Young man, are you coming for my class now?” the lecture stops his preaching to attend to the situation.

“Yes Dr.” he answers making his way to an empty seat at the end of the room.

“And what were you doing?  I’m almost done with the lesson?”

“I was preparing for class sir”.

The whole class burst into laughter before breaking into murmurs. The lecturers’ effort to get back our attention bares no fruits and I get my chance to get answers to questions burning me up.

“Aki huyo boy hubehave kama dem”

“Plus ni mrembo”

“Nashangaa yeye na dem yake nani dem”

“I hope anajua kuosha na kupika pia”

“Probably indomie na nodules”

“Very soon ataanza kuvaa high heeled za men”

“Kwani ni gay?”

“Zii, ana dem msupuu. Ni vile tu anapenda urembo.”

“Mi siwezi date boy dem ka huyo, hiyo ni kama tu kudate dem mwenzangu”

“Hebu muachane na boy wa wenyewe, kama boys weneu sio beautiful nyamazeni tu”

“Sasa wewe na yeye mna difference gani?”

My ribs are already breaking with laughter and I can’t help but hold my now aching ribs.

“Here is your assignment. It should be submitted in the next class typed and printed.”

Well, that’s the end of our short discussion as everyone now pays full attention to the new assignment.

At the end of the class I walk out with one thing on my mind; there are beautiful men…Wanaume warembo.

Do you think there are beautiful men?

Are there behaviors or things men do that makes you think “huyo mwanaume ni mrembo?”

Let’s see some of the things that make a man beautiful.


About the author

Gracey Eunice

Gracey Eunice

Find what you love and let it kill you.
If my words ain't shit,neither am I.

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