Something is wrong with being of male 'species' because these animals have salient behaviour excesses that are foolish especially when we find ourselves in the presence of females. Male goats, spiders, fish, birds, lizards, you name it, know only too well that in order to be noticed by females, they have to do all sorts of intricate dancing antics - literally.
When such antics fail, we go further than that; we show off our prowess by flexing our muscles through fighting it out (with other males), sometimes with serious consequences like death or broken teeth.
Indeed, I have lately been watching nature programs on TV and I have noticed that even the most primitive of the males in the animal kingdom, puts themselves through rigorous motions albeit to impress their females - human beings are no exceptions to this farce. I am reliably informed that males of a certain tribe of spiders are the most unfortunate of God's creation. The poor male does a Makonde dance before being allowed a once-in-lifetime sexual pleasure and then the happy female turns around and has him for lunch or supper!
Logically speaking, there are stark similarities between the unfortunate spider and I, the poor bloke from these God-forsaken Uswaz. Besides my literal Makonde contortions, Maasai high-jumps or Zaramo gyrations in order to impress, I have noticed that I have developed an insatiable desire to impress women - the wrong sort of women, with the content of my wallet sometimes to dangerous extremes. Whenever my plastic Chinese-made wallet is not doing rounds in the financial ICU, I find myself in the most unlikely places in the city - places where the sun never sets such as at Mzee Shirima's Bar and Guest House. These places are, according my padre, Fr Ruteshobya, Satan's own residence. Indeed, all sorts of shameless whoring, sexual excesses and perversions take place here. Dark alleyways, graveyards and guesthouses are always awash with revellers 'releasing' there tensions, having 'quickies' with careless abandon.
Last week, after my boss deemed it fit to give my wallet some reprieve by paying me some two-month wages, I felt like the oaf who happens to be the leader of the world's greatest nation by the name Donald Duck (ref to the Donald Duck cartoons).
You now that whenever my wallet gets loaded with real cash, miracles do happen. I crave for mbuzi choma, a real cold beer and sometimes, Tatu my favourite barmaid.
She always behaves like a nun in these circumstances. She behaves like one who has come straight from the village even when I know that she has jumped from one man's bosom to another.
Her winsome smile draws cash from my wallet faster than I make. With her hands in the zipper, the rest is history.