I would like to start of today wit an apology. To you gentlefolk out there. It has reached the attentions of my advisors that many of my articles contain several typos (typographical errors for the less literature-inclined). Please forgive and overlook these mistakes. I assure you, that is exactly what they are, mistakes. I can spell, really. Infact, join me in placing the blame on blackberry, for making the buttons on this phone so damn small. I do not have dainty fingers, I have brutish, man-like digits, like a real man should. But no matter, please accept my heartfelt apologies.
I am on my way to work this morning as usual people, but today I have armed myself with a rather unusual tool. I told you yesterday of the new assignment which I have been entrusted with by the bank and how immensely boring it is. Well people, I have with me a very temporary solution to this problem. I have brought along a book. A novel to be exact. The Alexandria Link, by Steve Berry. It should be an entertaining read, I'm sure. Now, I'm quite happy that I brought it along, at least I now have another activity to engage myself with, other than chatting on my phone and staring at the CEO's girlfriend's behind.
But when I got on the bus this morning (my regular 4th not 2nd, and as expected, the chickens are not clucking), several other passengers looked at me with some awe in their eyes and maybe too much surprise. It was like they were saying "why should a man be carrying a novel?" Gentlefolk, this is not the first time this has occured. Many occasions in the past, people have questioned me about my interest in literature. Infact just yesterday, a friend found out about this very blog and asked why I was doing it. According to him, blogging is girly. I honestly did not know this.
Tell me, why is it that according to our culture, men should not indulge in fictional literature. Its not like I read romance novels... Fucking Mills & Boons and that shit. Somehow in this society, recreational reading is not masculine and neither is recreational writing. If for instance I'm reading one of those self help books, you know, How To Make Money While A Monkey Scratches Your Balls, or Acheiving Greatness By Eating A Sandwich, then everybody will be just fine with it. But because I'm reading fiction, or writing a blog, I'm a woman.
Both Wole Soyinka and Chinua Achebe read and wrote fiction. Does this make Prof Soyinka a pussy? When Mr Achebe walked by, did people loudly whisper 'girly-man'? Both these men are literay icons of our nation, yet they both indulged in fictional literature.
Gentle folk, I am in no way comparing myself to these men. I am nothing compared to their shadows, let alone they themselves. I am not fit to trim Prof Soyinka's immaculately kept beard. Uttering Mr Achebe's name and mine in the same sentence should be an offense punishable by castration. These men were visionaries which words in their hearts and magic in their pens... I'm just a pissed off dude with a blackberry. But these men and I share a passion for works of word.
Reading habitually does not make you soft. On the contrary, it gives you more ammunition. Especially in the ladies department. It expands your vocabulary, thus making it easier to lie to and confuse the ladies. Say a couple of words, make them sound grandoise, and the womenfolk eat it all up. I'm not being chauvanist here ladies, I'm telling you how it is. What I'm telling my brethren here is the equivalent of when someone advises you to wear a push-up bra. More ammunition.
People, I'm no pussy. Far from it. I drink, smoke, drive too fast, curse, watch sports, hit on girls and scratch my balls with the best of them. And I also read like a prepubescent 14 year old girl.
I am Womilee. Period.