A few years ago, I took my search for a future bride to a neighbouring country! After realising how costly it was trying to convince the beautiful dot.com girls, I decided to change tactics.
I mean, these pretty looking chicks always want to feed on mayonnaise, yoghurt, spaghetti and ice creams all their lives. Men, that’s too expensive for Mr. Diaspoman! So, instead, I decided to concentrate on the good old fashioned villager. The villagers such as the ones Mfashumwana has always written about are the ladies who have fed on dry cassava for a bigger portion of their lives.
That is to say that these ladies grew up enjoying dry cassava plus cassava leaves as well as cassava flour. In short, these people were just cassava material through and through. These ladies ate this staple food from the time they were 3 years old until they turned 21. At 22, most of them found their way to the capital city where they ventured into new stuff like chips and fish from the nearby lakes. But however much they tried to devour city delicacies, their physical appearances just convinced you that they were cassava dependents.
Anyways, during my visit in this neighbouring country a few years ago, my host Robert and his friends took me to the hottest nightclubs for a real jig! As we guzzled bottle after bottle, I made sure that my eyes performed two major duties: close them whenever I spotted a cutie and open them wide when a villager passed by. It did not take me very long before identifying a potential candidate. She was sitting all by herself looking rather lonely. I slowly paced towards her. I asked her whether she would fancy my company. She accepted and we exchanged pleasantries.
I think this was the right person because unlike most other girls, she was drinking some cheap frothy beer. She was not the type who ordered for expensive wines without first verifying her guy’s pockets. She was not the type who insisted on eating expensive snacks. For her, she was happy with her beer and dry nuts. So I ordered for another round of drinks before tactfully interrogating her. My questioning session started like this: “Where you come from, do you grow cassava?”
I must tell you that I was very satisfied when she responded thus, “Oh yes, we grow a lot of cassava and potatoes.” I think she thought that I was some local investor inquiring about cassava products for exportation. I guess she thought that I was going to export a huge consignment of cassava and in the process give her a sizable sales commission. What she never really clicked was that I was busy establishing whether she would be a suitable wife for me. A suitable wife for Diaspoman is the one who grew up chewing cassava tubers instead of sweets and lollipops.
As the music fans sang and danced to the karaoke tunes, she and I decided to take our new relationship to another much cozier place. I then told Robert and his friends that I was relocating to another place where I could hold serious conversations with this possible future bride. Robert wished me good luck as he proceeded to dance and chant. I called the waiter for the bill but it was just delaying us. That is why I excused myself and dashed to the counter to settle the bill.
After paying I re-joined my new villager catch in our corner and urged her to finish up her beer. Once she was through, she picked up her bag and we marched towards the exit area. But as we walked out, the bouncers asked us to step back. Then one of them barked some tough orders towards us, “Hey you people, how dare come here to steal our property?” I was getting perplexed. I looked at my date and inquired: “What the hell are they talking about?”
She started to stammer. Sweat began to pour down her face. She panicked and trembled. Then her bag slipped out of her hands and certain items rolled out. These items included 2 bottles of Heineken beer, 1 empty glass and a bottle opener. The bouncer was busy shouting; “Arrest them! These are the people who sneak out with our things. This time you have been nabbed. Your fortieth day has arrived.” Indeed, Miss Villager had shown me her true colours…