Babies into ladies

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We spend a great deal of our adult lives chasing down other people’s daughters. We promise them the world when we haven’t understood the world ourselves. We tell them we love them when all we really would love is to see their inner thighs. We manipulate them into offering us their hearts even though we are glaringly undeserving. We look at them, not as individuals, but as legs, ass and knockers. We lust over them. We lie to them. We take away their virginities, and sometimes their self confidence. We knock them up and then jump that story. We make them cry in their sleep and then turn them into cold, angry and untrusting individuals who get on blogs and spew vitriol. We do all these with removed calculation, spurred by lust, gallantry and that imprisoning male machismo.

But one day, in a cruel twist of fate, we get daughters of our own.

Having a daughter changes the paradigm. It puts the boot on the other foot. It means you have to be prepared to contend with miscreants, yobos, lay-abouts, eejits, deadbeat-skinny-jean wearing, Mohawk-hawking eggheads who will park their father’s gleaming cars outside your gate and, with a juvenile chutzpah, press your doorbell. It means some gung-ho kid from Kile will one day get it into his head that he is good enough for your daughter (God forbid!).  It means there will always be a good-for-nothing kid who wants a piece of your little girl – a most nauseating thought.

In another 11yrs, I will open my front door to find some wolf-face asking, “Is Tamms home?” and I will be tempted to drive a point home when I drive my foot in his groin. Scaringly, in another 11yrs she will start thinking that perhaps there are other cool guys out there apart from me. She loves stroking my beard now and I shudder to imagine that one day she might admire another guy’s beard, a guy I will die to hold down on the floor and – with my knee buried in his chest – shave off his silly beard using a very blunt and rusty knife. One day she will receive a raunchy sms from some raccoon saying stuff like, “You are my world, gorgeous,” and, frighteningly, she will giggle and maybe even be tempted to believe that horny lout. No, she is my world jackass! Mine!

Deep breath.

It’s tough having a daughter, especially when you know how crafty men can get to get what they want. It’ tougher especially when you think of the heights you have gone to get into a woman’s pants. It’s one of those thoughts that bring a bad taste to your mouth; it makes you green around the gills. But as my little girl grows the clock ticks to the ultimate showdown, that much I know. It ticks to the day cops from the homicide department will shadow my doorway and ask me, “Where were you between 3pm and midnight yesterday?”

On Thursday the little one turns three and a half years. You would think that’s young. It’s not, she is a woman of sorts now, they grow up fast. You will step into the bathroom for a shower and when you come out they have learnt a new word from cartoon network. You step out to go have a drink at the bar and you come back and find a lady in the house, not a girl. The transition is creepily swift. When you are almost getting to know the baby, they have evolved into small girls…like, that!

But three is still a beautiful age. They are inquisitive. They are mighty impressionable. They soak in nuances. Their memories are elephantine. Their personalities are taking shape. At three, they wobble about in their mother’s high heels, apply make-up, demand to pick their own clothes and they can tell Ksh. 50 from Ksh 20. At three they start becoming ladies. And they are particular about what they want: don’t apply butter on both sides of my toast, put ketchup on the side of my plate not all over my fries, I want the green dress…I want my martini stirred, not shaken.

Here is how they change before your eyes. My little girl has always woken up every morning to use the potty in the corridor, you know, sit there sulking because she is not a morning person but most importantly because she can’t understand why she has to wake up so early to go to school. So she will sit on the potty, head somberly resting on her hands, and wear a pouty look of, “if only I had better parents, than the excuse I have now, I would be in bed sleeping, not going to muster colors the whole day.”The other day I noticed that she no longer uses the potty in the corridor but insists that it is moved into the privacy of bathroom instead. At three years she wants privacy because she can’t afford to be seen (by me, I suspect) using the potty in the open like that. I guess she can’t stand the indignity of her father seeing her bare bum (like there is much to see in the first place). Self preservation. Babies into ladies.

I’ve always dreaded that day in future, when she will turn into a teenager. When her chest will blossom out and her ass fills her pants. When she will start wearing fitting jeans and wearing lipstick. When she will start using words like “needing my space” or being an “adult” who needs to be “trusted as a grown up.” When she will start keeping stuff away from me.  I will dread when I’m faced with the dicey decision of when to let go a bit and when to put the foot down, you know, that point when I am confronted with the jarring reality that her needs have stopped orbiting around me.

But I’m always consoled that that day is far far away, like Vision 2030, a faraway concept, like something used by parents to scare children into eating their vegetables. I’m comforted that I still have over a decade to cement my role as the ultimate guy in her life. I still have a window to raise the bar so high for all those two-faced boys who will show up with honey on their lips and evil intentions in their hearts. But this reality was recently shaken slightly a few weeks ago.

So one evening the missus tells me grimly, “I have noticed something troubling about Tamms.”

“Let me guess, you found a packet of Embassy Lights in her school bag.” I said.

She ignored me. “She has been doing this dance which involves her lifting her shirt.”

“Yeah? I wouldn’t be worried about any dance, as long as it doesn’t involve a pole.”

“Well it involves another boy.” She said.

Slight pause.

“Another boy, what other boy?”

“She says some boy from school always dances like that with her.”

Here is the thing; my first impulse was not jealousy or anger. I really didn’t feel like this kid would try anything funny, but I was a bit anxious. It’s the feeling you would get when you are realize that it’s a Thursday and not a Wednesday as you had earlier thought and your deadline is looming the next day. Anxiety. Was I a bit concerned? Perhaps, yes. You pay a certain amount of money to take your kid to a school that is big on discipline and integrity and you hope that your child grows up sound and proper, shielded by the truancy that lives beyond the gates. But while you are protecting her from the world, while you are paying some pretty penny to arm her with vital tools of life at an early age, you wake up one day and realize that the wolves were not locked outside and that they actually reside in the same compound as her.

“Who is this boy who dances with you?” I asked Tamms.
“Ian.” She said innocently.

“Show me how he dances with you.”  She did. I was disgusted. Her mom said it was a bad dance and that she should not dance it again. She asked, why? She said, it was a dance of “bad people.” I gave her a wow-how-creative look. I wasn’t really interested in the dance; I was interested in this Ian boy.

“He’s called Ian, who?” I asked her. She told me; a lunje last name. The missus said she would go to school and have a word with the class teacher. I asked her to sneak a picture of this Ian kid because I was taking him down. The next day the missus went to school in the morning and talked to the class teacher who admitted that Ian was a bit of a problem child and she would put a stop to it. She didn’t show up with any picture.

I know this is childish but I really wanted to see this Ian kid. I wanted to put a face to this boy, the only male name she has uttered in my house since she was born. I felt intruded upon, ambushed even. Ian was the enemy within and he had to be eliminated Mossad style.

One day as I dropped her off, I decided to walk to their class and see this kid. I pretended to ask the teacher about her progress with counting the months of the year and then casually asked, “Oh, she talks about this Ian boy, where is he.” She pointed at this little devil playing across the room. He had oversized shorts, like he was about to jump off a plane and the shorts would act like a chute. He was chocolate. He had short hair. He was a bit chubby. Innocent looking kid, but I knew better. I didn’t feel anger towards Ian, I didn’t feel the need to run over to him and tackle him.

But I wanted to walk up to him and tap him on the shoulder. “Ian, what are you doing after school, can we catch a drink?” Since he is a belly dancing brat, he would look at me and hiss, “And who might you be?”

“Tamms’ father.”

“Whatever old man, 3.30pm is fine, but I have a lot of homework so I will only be good for one drink.”

After school, I would take him to Kengeles, Lavington Green where I would ask the waiter to give him a double of Famous Grouse. On the rocks.

“I’m sorry, we don’t serve children here sir,” the waiter would tell me firmly.

“He’s not a child, he is just a short guy who likes wearing school uniform, like Inspector Mwala, so come on, be a prince and bring that double and some ice.” The waiter would bring our drinks and recede to the counter to look at us.

“I don’t drink, I’m just a kid!” Ian would whine.

“No, you aren’t. If you can show my baby your belly surely you are old enough to handle a double. Drink up Ian, stop whining.”

He would look up at the waiter for help, but no help will come from those quarters.

“From one man to the other,” I would say firmly, “You need to stop those belly dances.”

“I want to go home to my mommy,” he would whimper.

“Because if you don’t stop Ian, you will meet a very tragic end…I’m just saying.”

His lips would start trembling, like he wants to cry.

“Oh, so now Mr. Belly Dancer wants to cry?” I would chide him.

“I want to go home, please let me go home.”

“Oh please, be a man Ian!” I will snap, “Drink up belly dancer, it will calm your nerves.”

Since he’s short, his feet would be dangling from his seat and his head, would be at the same level as the table. He would lift the glass of whiskey with both hands and then gingerly bring it to his lips for a cautious sip.

“It’s bitter!” he would whine, twisting his face in disgust.

“Please, don’t be a wuss.” I would growl across the table. He would then start crying and the waiter would come to my table and demand that I stop being an ass. I would then rise from my seat, gulp Ian’s drink in one swoop and then walk to his side of the table and whisper in his ears, “If you aren’t ready to be a man, stop showing my little girl your belly.” Then I would leave him there bawling his small lungs out.

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107 Comments
  1. I envy Tamms, only a dad can love a gal truly and with best of intentions, but somehow it’ll get to that day, when she’ll become a woman, and get other men in her life, i hv a lil’ gal too, 2yrs n i dread that day too….very nice read Biko.

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  2. You know her first crush might be 6months away right? I get worried when I see my lil girl trying to shake her little behind. It’s quite scary. This gave me a good laugh though. Just what I needed, have a great week Baba Tamms 🙂

  3. D.E.A.D!

    Mr. B, Ian lives in Kile? Must be!

    Tamm’s is gorgeous… I have a nephew eh 🙂

    Thank heavens you are a smart enough dad to know that the impression you make on your daughter will greatly determine the kind of men she will EVENTUALLY date & marry. If you ask me, that in itself makes you a great dad! 🙂

    Great post, as always!

  4. Sir, you have a really beautiful child.

    I wish my father thought the same way about me as I was growing up; y’know the whole protective thing going on in this post. Really cute. Brace yourself, by the time she hits eighteen you’ll have done a million similar posts. 🙂

  5. haha, esp the part with his legs dangling and his face the level of the table, i can just see that and the waiter retreating to the counter.high school kweli!

  6. Hi, Ian’s Mum here….I think we need to have a talk :-D.

    Great post. I was having a lowsy morning till i read that. Thanx and lovely week to you.

  7. Really hilarious post.

    It is important to follow up on those Ians – mostly brats whose parents are never there so they learn stuff from TV…

  8. She’ll turn out great, she’ll be a Phenomenally Phenomenal Woman.

    Men themselves will wonder
    What they see in her.
    They’ll try so much
    But they won’t touch
    It’ll be in the arch of her back,
    The sun of her smile,
    The ride of her breasts,
    The grace of her style.

    A woman, Phenomenally, Phenomenal!

  9. Loved this post!! great work B – also please put a search button on the website, sometimes u want to go back to an old story n with the new order its a bit tiring ?( I do love the website tho- cheers)

  10. Loved this post!! great work B – also please put a search button on the website, sometimes u want to go back to an old story n with the new order its a bit tiring ( I do love the website tho- cheers)

  11. Biko, she already knows martini? Don’t worry, you will always be tight with her. Trust me, am a daddy’s girl.

  12. I appreciate the gravity of this issue especially of you have a daughter, my solution to this problem is, I’ll buy my daughter who is 1.8 months two dogs doobermans preferably and I’ll feed them on pepper only. lets see those boys trying to come to my house after that.

  13. Nice read Biko i will raise my son properly so he doesn’t become “miscreants, yobos, lay-abouts, eejits, deadbeat-skinny-jean wearing, Mohawk-hawking eggheads who will park their father’s gleaming cars outside your gate and, with a juvenile chutzpah, press your doorbell.”
    Good job.

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  14. SO now that Mr. Ian who lives in Kile thinks that the Famous Grouse is gross. If it is his belly might be quite out of question. So much for TV brats.

  15. We spotted my 6year old nephew doing a disturbingly raunchy dance once, and he had to be threatened with ‘Jesus doesn’t love children who do such things’
    *sigh* I’m afraid he might be the Ian in his class…

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  16. I have a boy and a girl the juggling in raising the two is mind boggling. Biko treat you lil one like a lady and she will not allow anything less in her life. Stats have shown that women look for their Dads in dudes. I have led my mind down the path… do you have an Ian-esqueness we need to address…hehehe

  17. Biko this is extremly funny.
    Reminds me of my friend who caugt her one and a half year old daughter doing the bendover dance, it must be Ian!!!!!!
    Your daughter is beautiful though.

  18. Am sure you have raised Tamms well. Some day, she will be able to protect herself and will look at Kile boys with some “Don’t Mess with me” tough eyes. She will have learnt from the best

  19. “She loves stroking my beard now and I shudder to imagine that one day she might admire another guy’s beard, a guy I will die to hold down on the floor and – with my knee buried in his chest – shave off his silly beard using a very blunt and rusty knife.”

    Hilarious post Biko. The love a father has for a daughter is unmeasurable.
    Enjoy your week.

  20. On her 4th birthday, we took Wema’s birthday party to her school. She was asked to pick her best friend for purposes of cutting the cake. Imagine my shock when she went for Keith…and they fed each other the cake before distributing it to the rest of her classmates!
    So, brace yourself…

  21. Biko, the fact that you are like you are when she is this young is awesome and amazing!!! I am super proud to know of another father who is keen on his daughter like you are, treating her like the jewel she is. If only there were more of you. Set the example Biko and trust that she will not stray. Nice Piece!!!!

  22. Hillarious……… Biko once my twin girls (yet to come) are about to fika puberty… am getting a firearm… i think thats the only way…

    1. You will see, it is all reversed, its the little lassies chasing after them boys, sadly 🙁 and the boys know know to take the chances.

  23. I don’t envy that boy who will come knocking at your gate,,especially when she will be 16,,,but i envy Tamms,she has an incredible Dad.

  24. I love this piece because I had an experience with my dad when I was 16 that now 15 years later I look back and I say it’s because he loved me and could not imagine any other man would measure up or even deserved my attention. And this weekend we toasted to a glass of wine and he was just so proud of how far I had come he shed a tear as he expressed his joy…to be honest you will need to exercise some tough love and never give up because one day you will look back and laugh about it over a glass of wine 🙂 I will pray for you as a father and her as your daughter to grow each other in wisdom and in love 🙂

  25. ….my son is never meeting Tamms..just in case he genuinely falls in love with her (coz he will be a well brought up genuine young man:) ) and ends up dangling his feet from some bar stool!

    Nice read as always!

  26. I have a lil girl the same age as Tamms and am in line for a firearm licence just in-case the boys from Kile come knocking. Lovely offspring you have there, the corridors look familiar.

  27. That picture has been taken from the paedatric room of the aga khan. She so looks like you dude!Enjoy the holidays!

  28. Eeeerm Ahem! can I have a word with you Baba Tamms? I think Tamms need a companion now. Hii mmaneno ya kumbeba-beba kama mayai ought to stop now before she actually thinks she’s one and then she comes to a crashing mess at some point and with it your heart too. Leta another ‘mzungu’ to spread the headache of loving bratty kids in the house. A word to the wise is enough.

    You got to know also that daughters are God’s punishment to fathers for being male. I’ll explain.How did you behave with other people’s lasses when you were young and rocking with-it? It’s pay-back time dude.

    But take comfort, the Bible says bring up a child in the way s/he should go and s/he will never abandon it. So far you are doing great, just don’t focus on Ian and future Ians to come, just focus on her and show her ‘the way’, she’ll pretty much soon understand where Ian’s going is not where she’s supposed to.

  29. I fancy twin girls. Sure we don’t get what we expect but reading your post here has brought a whole new perspective..

  30. I wonder what Ian’s dad said to him when he went home and said, “Dad, there is this girl at school…I think she likes me.” My bet is that his dad tapped him on the back and said, “That’s my boy.”
    So you see Biko, this is really between you and Ian’s dad.

  31. the only reason i plan to ever wed, is to have a little daughter of my own. This is perhaps the only reason i have spent over 4 years learning different forms of martial art, so when those fools finally show up on my door, i will break their privileged fingers as warning, their hands as a statement and their knees as a message to others. Then ill frame their broken frames on my gate, medieval style.

  32. I lack the words to describe your condition, am not a therapist. Let me ask you, will your daughter get married some day in the future or you will kick the wanna-be husband in the ass?

    1. Hi Eryyko, i think you have it all wrong. Every father wants to give her daughter away, to walk her down the aisle BUT, to someone who will be worth her: A good man.

  33. Wow, your daughter is so beautiful!! You need to brace yourself because there will be more Ians, and even worse men.

  34. I am curious about the lengths you and others have taken to get into some girl’s pants.

    A tot with a toddler. It shouldn’t be funny…but it really is…lol

  35. He he he he. I would befriend Ian before indoctrinating him on how to take care of a woman, then I would make sure Tamms ends up with the man that I molded especially for her. That is if I were you…

  36. I’m not sure whether to pray to have girls or boys lol!
    I like Kush’s advice though. 😉

    Love the new look. Good catching up with you, hopefully will do it more often.

  37. Hey Biko,

    Your baby girl is gorgeous, a gem that typifies a dimple of perfection. I once read somewhere that fathering is not something that a perfect man does, but something that perfects the man. You are a great dad Biko, heaven’s best gift to Tamms. May she live to bring you nothing but joy and a lifetime link to contentment and a peace of mind.
    Bless you.

  38. you’ll grow together. wait and see. and when it’s time, you’ll have a real life Ian you can take to the bar and growl at. and you then you’ll realise that simpleton boy across the table is the only chap who jumped that extremely high bar you put up.

  39. @mtu flani you have cracked me up silly…#cosign n Biko if you did not want Ian to dance with tamms…you should have deformed her face…you are to blame for her awesomeness.Leave Ian alone!

  40. o.m.g she is a cutie.you guys definately have your work cut out for you!!she is soo lucky to have outstanding parents like you.

  41. Well put – you should start a Daddies workshop. 🙂

    Now here is one thing I also hope you are doing besides giving your lovely little lass the kind of love and protection she deserves – treating her momma right. Somebody earlier mentioned, girls look for their “dads” in future partners. So very true and an expression comes to mind – “Monkey see, monkey do”

    Love your posts!!!!

  42. I want a son, like Ian. I was an Ian, have always been and in a few years, maybe God will bless me, with a lil’ lass. Now my greatest fear is getting an advanced Ian, way better than myself…the one who knows how to manipulate them lil’ sweets well. It doesn’t help much, does it, to try and be afraid of Ians. Those who are thinking of getting dogs, lemme tell you, the Ian’s are the cleverest of them all, they know the law, almost at 5, they stick around school, they dont come to your house, even if Tamms told em to, and will touch your lil’ gal in class, behind the jacket hanger, and he will convince her not to go out for break, until they have kissed, at 5. I did this…in 1990 when bread was Ksh.1.70, this is 2011, second decade of the 21 Century. Things must have worsenedIf you got a daughter, you need to be afraid, be very afraid. Ian will not fall for your trap, unless you run over the lil’ brat at the zebra crossing, which he doesn’t go to anyway. A good read Biko, I am afraid myself, because I was on the other side, and now am crossing over, very fast.

    1. I still maintain… if you have a daughter buy a gun….(or hire) and put the fear of God into some three random kids. But if i had an Ian i’d pat him on the back and tell him ‘go fetch’

  43. This is a like a tribute to us dads. I have two daughters, 7 and 3, so imagine how I felt when recently I heard them mention the term “boyfriends”…there is actually a boy who comes to see my 3 year old almost daily…phew!

  44. C’mon good people, lets all cut lil Ian some slack, shall we? Physiologically, Tamms as a rapidly growing female has matured close to 6 years old while Ian is – you guessed right! – still 3 & a half, & is yet to learn how to treat a fair lady right. Granted, Biko might easily have been the ‘Ian’ of his hey-days…..

  45. that article just reminds hw i grew up i remember in class 7 some1’s dad almost punched me in the face.dads are too possesive sometyms. thats is a good shot biko.bingo

  46. Tamms, is a such a beautiful gal! I hear you loud and clear Biko, my gal is 7 years and i have come across so many Ians, now that Tamms is half my daughter’s age, be ready for Kevos, Matos etc. I do own a gun since then though a .38 (silencer) …..a parent gotta do what she gotta do….aye.

  47. will be the 60 yr olg geezer parking my mid-life crisi Lambo @ stela Awinja where tamms will waiting for me for some tam tam ..get tha drift?

  48. I have the perfect plan to protect my girls when they hit teenage years.

    1. I hope by then, they will have passed the law on the right to bear arms. If not, I just might apply for a shortgun.

    2. Place my shortgun right above my 42 inch screen, in full view of the boys.

    3. Welcome the boys home with open arms.

    4. Before leaving the house to ”give them their privacy” unhung the shortgun, uncork it, check for bullets, cork it again and return it to its rightful place.

    5. Finally, with a smile, tell the boy he is always welcome in my house and in my abscense he is the man of the house.

    Now if that won’t keep the boy too distracted to do any funny stuff, I don’t know what will.

  49. Love this post, especially where you refer to getting a girl a cruel twist of fate!classic ha ha!!. I suppose that makes the difference between you n a lady ; i accept that one day a man will screw with my lil angle (just to make life bearable) n i hope i will have the strength to deal with it then n not threaten the police n FIDA on them like my mum did to some person a few years back.

  50. You can sure weave a tale! I think the sad part will be when she’s finally grown up, over 22, moving out… and you can no longer call her your own.

  51. hehehe…the pick up lines i encounter around campus from sex hungry men i quote…’you are the gift to my sexual healing’ poor ye who fall for this lines….awesome piece….

  52. So I come here after 3 weeks because your blog won’t allow me to add it to my reader, only to find I can’t even see the picture everyone is talking about? Some 404 error or something. Biko, call Alexious, there’s a problem!

  53. This is just legendary stuff Good Writing … Got a Daughter who is turning 7 next year and i have found myself building a gun cabinet and i plan on filling it every time she gets older for a very GOOD purpose of course ….

  54. “You are doing nothing,” she said. Somehow those two figures seemed to go before Ben all along the pleasant of life, is a certain fact. Everything bears an exorbitant price. The

  55. well interesting read but i hold my tongue because i have a son and i would hunt whoever trys to bully him down and that encounter would not be so pleasant , then again i hope to get a daughter someday and i may act in a manner similar to yours so… TORN! … Otherwise good read!

  56. Awesome!! My daughter is a year and a half and the thought of some other man making her laugh is simply nauseating to me. I need a human size egg to keep her in till I feel the world is safe enough (i.e free from any smooth talking eighteen year old).

  57. maybe i am lacking humour in my life but a raunchy message from some raccoon has my ribs in pain really good thoughts.

  58. Sometimes as a dude i fear karma, i wanna be a father to a daughter so my son can have a brother, but boy oh boy , if my karma does get tricky and try to even the odds , oh lord have mercy on her. She need suffer for her fathers worldly ways!!

  59. I also cant see the pics Biko. Nice read. Poor Ian. Reminds me of when my dad came to my school (primary), I was 13 in class eight. On hearing a rumour from my teacher that I had a ‘boyfriend,he was super mad. He said I was only allowed to have a boyfriend 20yrs from that day!! 🙂 #crazyfathers.

  60. ” I guess she can’t stand the indignity of her father
    seeing her bare bum (like there is much to see in the first place). ” LOL! You are a special one man.

  61. I usually ignore long posts bt ths one caught ma eye…”wat if i was Ian”,jst imagned tht i wud hav siped n told u thot to masef u wan to giv Tamms officially 2 mi…..thn go hom braggin!!!!

  62. Inspekta Ian Mwala, lol, you slay me bro. Sundays at some places, dancing compez for lil gals and their moms, pops sometimes. Chelsea knows we can do Sunday horsey rides, merry-go-round n boats but not the dance compez coz I told her, when she turns five, I would rather she ran off and became that ‘jihadi bride’ in Ramadi, than a back-up dancer in a Congolese band in that proverbial 2030