Our Warriors fulfilled their mission in Rwanda, they represented us with extinction! I remember the outgoing AU chair once said extinction is a form of distinction.
It is always good to console those that do not excel though they exhibit the zeal to make it. So it transpired, our boys perspired and expired.
And if our teams share the drawing board yours truly reckons there is no more space there considering the rate at which our various teams are losing matches and going back to the drawing board!
My visa will now need more supporting documents for me to be able to visit the sports bar, and nurse my glass by my spot at the corner.
All because madam believes now that the boys are back the tournament is over. Even if it is not over as I allege what would be my interest in the tourney with the Warriors back home, she would ask.
These Warriors have made life difficult for us on many fronts, I tell you. Though the Warriors did grab our attention for a while, this time around they posed such a risk even our esteemed prophets steered clear of the team in their predictions.
It is our hope that the men of God did not withhold their blessings, just managing to bless the rest of the pitch and leaving the goal area as an area of contestation between benign and malignant forces, or did the strikers get up to no good in the shadows of Kigali, hence the firing of blanks.
Still on our interaction with the fairer sex, it seems a whole football tournament could not rival a purported windfall in the horn of Africa.
Hoax or fact, what can never escape anybody’s attention is that women make the world go round or literally rule the world.
For a moment conversation deserted football matters, presidential campaigns elsewhere or even the weather as the world went agog with news that the Eritrean government had issued a decree that all men should marry at least two wives or face life imprisonment.
Social media went into overdrive with people’s crazy imaginations taking them to unbelievable heights.
Real men of old did not wait for a ruling elsewhere to get excited and muster the courage to agitate for the same in their own hood . . . They simply kept on marrying as long as they had the cows for lobola. Small houses had a very unhappy week as the men seemed to find the whole Eritrean affair amusing with some posting jokes that they were on their way there. These ladies are not used to this kind of competition. They normally compete against someone going about their business casually unaware of a shadow competitor! It would not be surprising to see a statement or petition from their association on social media. While the excitement over Eritrean news was a shock to ladies in monogamous unions, the girlfriends and small houses saw a chance to lobby for recognition.
The word Eritrea is now being monitored even in phone books, Eritrea could be a small house. And if someone says they are going to Eritrea, my advice dear lady is that “hit them hard”.
Many relationships are just not formalised, but there are very few monogamous ones, uMzo took up the subject ebhawa challenging the guys who were busy relishing the East African ladies’ cheek bones! If anyone put their money on the Warriors or on securing Eritrean ladies, then I am sorry to announce that they placed their bet on the wrong horses. It’s like putting your money on that hopeless horse that sprints in the opposite direction when it matters most. I remember my uncle would bang tables and scream his voice hoarse while watching on TV if his favored horse was “scratched” off the race card for refusing to join the rest of field on the starting line.
Talking about horses and myths, I believe the person that invented Borrowdale dance had lost quite a fortune on betting on the wrong horses but mastered the power of their imagination to turn that hopeless situation into a gold mine through rhythmically imitating the same sellout horse . . . and making me and you pay to watch the dance!
Been googling Eritrea . . . How can I turn this situation into cash . . . “Quick visa processing . . . and free . . . For the first 50 men, pay for one and get one free . . .” There goes my imagination again!