OF COMRADES’ BIG BOOTIES AND BLEACHED SKINS


My comrades have a bright future. I wish that were a compliment but sadly, it isn’t. This is because their future is bright in its literal sense. To think that mutilating their skins with asinine tattoos wasn’t enough, comrades have gone a step further to insult genetics by bleaching their skins as though to wash off an odious curse. Oh, I’m corrected that it’s not actually bleaching, but rather skin-lightening.

Whatever its name, this byzantine craze has really discombobulated my old man, Grandpa Richard. He was even more flummoxed to find out that some people spend prodigious amounts of cash to undergo the tawdry procedure. “In our days, beauty had a more authentic meaning. Some of our girls were so dark that they walked around with candles at midday so as to enhance visibility. Yet these girls swooped all the titles on offer during the village beauty contests,” Reminisces the pensioner.

Someone with a single-digit IQ lied to my comrades that having their melanin eviscerated will make them an instant tourist attraction. She made them believe that with a faded skin, they can make it in life without an ounce of brains in their noggins. All they need to do is hobnob their (un)pretty self and abracadabra! Glory, fame and fortune will appear like magic! Sadly, my comrades swallowed the malarkey hook, line and sinker.

More lies designed to make my comrades uncomfortable in their identity were soon to follow. Having secured a bright future, they were enticed to look for a beautiful past. I wish they had searched for this beautiful past in history books by reading about the halcyon Grandpa Richard’s days. But their interest lies in a different kind of past—the past that is attained by false fully enhancing their derrières.

Some comrades buy padding which they place beneath their dresses, creating mountains out of molehills. Yet, others have turned into a more bizarre act of desperation, adding chicken-feed to their diet so their bodies can balloon in select areas. Ridiculous, isn’t it? Since when did bottoms become the paragons of beauty?

Methinks my comrades miscarried when they started spending all their spare time sticking up their noses on dirty magazines and gluing their eyes to amoral content on TV. Bamboozled by the Westernised rendition of fame and fortune, my comrades became greedy and wanted it all. Their cannabis suppliers, sensing a real gold mine, decided to double-up as vendors for bleaching creams and butt enlargers. And that’s how we got ourselves in this aping limbo.

“Your generation needs to cut out all this skin bleaching and bottom enhancing nonsense and get back to the road of natural beauty just as God intended it,” argues Grandpa Richard. “I may not be alive to witness the ribbon-cutting of a nation whose citizens are hunted down by Tanzanian witchdoctors in pursuit of albino skin, but it is still really revolting to watch the country slide down that particular path.”

@JowalJones

jowaljones

Jowal Jones is a columnist and correspondent with Kenya's leading newspaper, Daily Nation. He also dabbles in fiction works at times, hoping to be the next Stephen King. Sometimes he takes time out from writing to perfect his deer-dancing and goat-screaming skills.