The Mt Kenya Times 
David Ndirangu
By David Ndirangu
Worth Noting:
- When it was time to attend the first disco whereby Chinga Girls’ High School (intimately called Abroad by Baraki boys) was coming over, Wanjohi Muriu took me through a crash session on how to manage affairs in the disco.
- He taught me the mechanics of dancing to the fast disco music and also the Slow style (these days I think it is called ‘Blues’) where you hold the girl close and dance slowly and rhythmically.
- He taught some of the sweet words to whisper to the girl while in this position but particularly cautioned me to be very careful not to step on the girl’s toes.
A couple of decades ago while I was in Form Two at Chinga Boys’ High School (fondly called Baraki by the students), I had a good friend known as Wanjohi Muriu.
His name was a bit unusual because in my language Wanjohi translates to ‘of beer’ while Muriu translates to ‘drunkard’ so his name suggests something like ‘drunkard of beer’. Someone told me that these days Wanjohi Muriu is a pastor in Nairobi. Being in that profession, I can bet his name sounds like there is conflict of interest. Wanjohi Muriu was a pleasant and very generous fellow but most importantly he taught many things about how to relate with girls.
He took me through techniques of catching the attention of a girl you have an interest in and what language to use (called ‘mistari’ these days) and other mannerisms for good effect.
When it was time to attend the first disco whereby Chinga Girls’ High School (intimately called Abroad by Baraki boys) was coming over, Wanjohi Muriu took me through a crash session on how to manage affairs in the disco.
He taught me the mechanics of dancing to the fast disco music and also the Slow style (these days I think it is called ‘Blues’) where you hold the girl close and dance slowly and rhythmically.
He taught some of the sweet words to whisper to the girl while in this position but particularly cautioned me to be very careful not to step on the girl’s toes.
Last and most important, he told me; “If the girl says that it is dusty, she wants you to buy her a soda”.
This surprised me a bit. I asked him, “Why can’t she just directly say she wants a soda?” He told me – that’s how they do it. For my comfort, he told me that he had learnt this from his elder sisters.
Yes – it worked and I had a fairly successful first disco experience thanks to my friend Wanjohi Muriu.
Today, having acquired lots of experience through interaction with several female members of human species, and with the benefit of my friend’s lessons.
I have concluded that women have their own unique language which is universal. We can safely call it ‘Womanese’ for purposes of this discussion.
I have no problem with ‘Womanese’, if only the women could keep it to themselves.
The problem is that they expect us men to understand it with no training at all.
Some years back, we were having a discussion with a lady friend and colleague called Nyako.
As the name suggests, you have rightly guessed that she was a daughter of the Lake. That morning Nyako came to work quite upset. Incidentally, she had a big argument with her husband the previous evening and in the heat of it she had told him that she had had enough and the following morning he should drop her at Country Bus Station.
That she was going back to her mother in the village in Nyanza. So come the following morning, instead of the husband dropping her at her workplace, he silently drove to Country Bus and stopped at the Nyamasaria Bus booking office.
Nyako who had pensively sat watching the happenings asked him, “What do want here?” “But you said that you were going to the village”.
The husband replied. “Just drop me at the office.” Nyako said without another word. So that morning, Nyako was complaining that she doesn’t know what was wrong with her husband.
“He simply doesn’t understand me”. She lamented.
This means that the previous night Nyako was speaking ‘Womanese’ but the husband only understands ordinary language.
I believe ‘Womanese’ comes inbuilt in the female psyche and thus they need no training.
Unfortunately the men have to learn on the job. This would not be a problem were it not for the complicated nature of the language.
A man will in the morning leave his woman jovial and in a good mood only to come in the evening to find her curled on the sofa staring at the TV as if she is studying for an exam.
He will go on to ask her what is wrong upon which she answers, “Nothing. Am ok”.
In ‘Womanese’ this could mean several things including, am upset with you, or with the cat, or with the neighbour, or with my mother, or your mother, or my sister etc.
It might also mean that, am bored with you, am tired…anything. How the…is the man supposed to figure out what the issue is?
The men of this world will be forever grateful to the woman who will be sympathetic enough to our situation and come up with a book titled something like, “Understanding Womanese – A beginners Guide.” Or, what’s your take brothers?
David Ndirangu Bsc. International Business Administration (USIU- A) CPA (K). Business Management Consultant and Author of the book; This is DAVE. Email: ndirangudavid2023@gmail.com
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