Big boys may cry but do so not so openly

It’s not entirely true that ‘big boys don’t cry’, as the late Lucky Dube used to tell us; with my very own eyes (of course I wouldn’t borrow anyone else’s for the purpose), I once saw a big boy about my age crying.

He had been chatting with a beautiful woman on a sidewalk. I heard her remark, a word-sentence combination: Ishia ! (loose translation: Go to hell!)

I have been told ‘go to hell’ about one million times, and I’m sure there are one million times more in store, but I have never felt like crying.

You never know what drove the man to tears. I wouldn’t dare probe him, my friend; certain risks are better avoided if you don’t want your journey to hell-heaven fast-tracked.

You would do so, the way you avoid passing close to a hole that shelters a snake that hasn’t recovered fully from the shock of its girl-friend being ‘nationalised’ by a more handsome snake. In its fury, it would strike your foot fiercely enough to prompt its amputation !

My mother used to slap me when I was a young boy, as a reward for scooping milk powder from tins and licking it as enthusiastically as monkeys chew sugarcane. But the slaps were soft and didn’t invite tears.

Donation of canes

At secondary school, the headmaster, Mwalimu Telesphor KK ( Kipigo Kikali) Nidhamu, donated 15 lashes of the cane to me, for spreading a rumour that our school was a combination of a prison and a military barracks. I cried loudly enough to have caused Lucky Dube a heart attack if he had witnessed the drama.

While strolling in part of the Buguruni suburb owned by Mnyamani recently, I accidentally winked at a young woman whose elderly husband wasn’t, for understandable reasons, impressed. Using his beautiful walking stick, he mercilessly unleashed blows on my back.

I sprinted and soon jumped on a ‘bodaboda’ that sped off almost at the speed of sound. The young rider wondered why I didn’t cry in spite of the heavy beating. I referred him to Lucky Dube’s song, ‘Big boys don’t cry’; which amused him so much that he almost lost control of the bike !

When I reached the destination, I locked myself in a toilet briefly and shed a few Wilson, as opposed to crocodile tears !