The Nairobi Woman

By Robert Aseda
Something about the Nairobi woman sets her apart from other females out there. The typical Nairobi woman is calculating and callous. She is fake. Don’t believe me? Look at her face. It’s covered in so much makeup it’s almost impossible to identify her. Still on complexion, she uses enough beauty creams to turn Lupita into Beyonce. Perhaps, the only true thing in her is the black and white photo in her national ID.

Her lips resemble a cat’s, which dipped the mouth in a pool of blood. To her, they appear appetizing and luscious, moistened and inviting. Kissing her is perhaps more catastrophic than drinking water from Nairobi River.

She shaves her eyebrows then draws them back using eye-pencil. The good thing with her shaving obsession is that the ‘right places’ are clean too. Supreme Leader Aladeen Motherfucker of Wadiya will tell you hairy armpits aren’t man’s best friend.

Her long, well-kept nails are covered in distinctive red or pink nail polish. Of course not natural nails, those from beauty shops of downtown Globe roundabout. The piercings all over – lower lip, ears, umbilical cord and ‘lower lip’ for the more audacious ones. Her earrings, varying in shape and color, could last her a lifetime. The Nairobi woman owns a collection of wigs and weaves preferably calling them ‘natural Brazilian hair’ or other fancy names.

The Nairobi woman has a deep black-American accent. Never mind the closest to America she’s ever been is spotting a Boston Red Sox Jersey picked after half a day’s haggling in Gikomba. Her favorite words: ‘you know’, ‘c’mon’, ‘as in like’,’ for real’. It’s her flirty look; it can make a devoted man of the cloak not debate about trashing marriage vows. Don’t get me started on her ‘Linda Okello’.
There’s nothing real about ladies’ behinds gracing Nairobi streets. I hear you can buy behinds in Nairobi.

The last time this woman tasted a home-cooked meal was when she visited shagz. Did I mention she doesn’t know how to cook? Okay, I’m exaggerating. She can cook tea, boiled eggs and perhaps rice using a rice cooker. Anyway cooking is overrated. The idea of chai, chipo mwitu is overpowered by dozens of men scavenging after her like gold; men with means to dine her at Nairobi’s Hiltons and Nevadas for a bite of chicken, fish and chips. There’s of course Terrific Tuesdays for the less endowed, to put a strong cause for thy love.

A slight bump on her tummy infamously known as ‘ghorofa’ is not a baby bump, just a small prize to pay for her nutrition habits.

The Nairobi woman guzzles Vodka the same way Boka swigs his tea. Surprisingly, when with her she won’t mention the Jamesons and the Cirrocs, but when alone she partakes of the stronger stuff, Bluemoon. Dry. Soda is for sissies.

Her favourite music? Soft rock and cool soul. That’s what she says. I hear it commands some aura of trendiness. A look at her memory card and majority are riddims and reggae songs. Obviously, there’s nothing wrong with these music genres.

All Nairobi women have boyfriends who either left for Canada for further studies or South Africa for some job thing. Between the third date and whispering sweet nothings to your ear you’ll be wondering what happened to their loves. Slow down Alejandro. It’s not your strong lines; she’s just playing the game.

Her favorite sport is rugby, following the weekend action everywhere. This weekend in Masaku, next in Nakuru and yet last weekend she was in Kisumu for Dala Sevens. It’s not the awesomeness of the handoff or penalty or side step or try. It’s the after party. And doesn’t the Nairobi woman know how to have a good time! Her stunts put to shame the great sin cities of Sodom and Gomorrah. Do they have parents? Hey, I’m not judging. I may be worse.

They walk in packs you’d think lionesses on the hunt. The outspoken one knows everything unimportant happening in the Metropolis from Oktoberfest, to the coolest gigs. You’d think she’s in the entertainment industry. Wait, she is. This queen makes it difficult to express deep attraction for a crew member without her express permission. The boss is seen and heard, just look for the one who’s trying too much.

In the animal kingdom, when a hunting pack gets prey it’s shared. When you date one of the girls, you are the pack’s property. She’ll invite you to meet her friends who’ll always be there, never mind ten dates later. Judging, studying to make sure you’re the right one. And what better way to prove your worthiness than quenching their insatiable appetite for the bitter stuff. Thank God for M-Shwari, otherwise watu wangechonga viazi for these ratchets.

Her heightened fashion sense has no respect for the weather. Drizzling or raining cats and dogs. This woman is always in a short skirt, hot pants or one of those shorts hockey girls wouldn’t wear to a match. They can be sexy when they want to. (Have you seen Jedi in one? Trust me you need to.) If she’s in a dress, chances are it‘s a bareback and the tailor ran out of fabric. Pneumonia or those acute respiratory infections are just figments of imagination by their haters.

You’d be forgiven to think there’s a county uniform. Nearly everybody is in animal print pants or dress with matching sunglasses; never mind July with the sun somewhere in Soweto. She’s always in heels even when it’s obvious she’s struggling.

She has those huge handbags with clothes, an extra pair of shoes, scarves, sanitary towels, beauty tools, extra weaves (just in case), loaves of bread and everything you’ll need to survive. You think they are called ntalala wapi’ for no reason?

She wears G-strings/thongs on days she’s feeling a little religious. Other days she simply airs her ‘goods’. “Mother’s union’ is archaic and so 19th century.” The only thing allowed from this century is Chelsea football club.

The Nairobi woman’s ‘haters’ hate her guts and are jealous of her; wannabes who wouldn’t hesitate to switch places with her. “You know how it is when you’re successful and suddenly haters wanna bring you down?”
What doesn’t occur to her is that nobody in their right mind envies her.

These women have huge social following. Imagine twenty likes for sneezing. Their Facebook statuses are usually in IMAX, JKIA or other classy places. Men with insatiable appetites always try to outdo each other on her wall. She pretends she doesn’t like the attention, but deep down she knows this validation is necessary. Her self-worth is fickle and legions of admirers remind her she’s pretty. Some of the statements are gross exaggerations and pure lies. But stretching truth for affection is what we men were born to do. When your strongest point is not the fiscal front your tongue needs to be quick or settle for the hands to compete favorably. Flattery is thus a natural adaptation necessary for the broke man’s survival.

As always I’m exaggerating ….Nairobi women are cool, fun-loving people and great company.

I’m out.

About my guest writer
Robert Aseda is a fascinating chap. Endearingly so. He says it’s difficult to describe himself then goes ahead to give me lengthy paragraph of titles I am struggling to squeeze in here, hehhe. Aseda is a writer and a poet, a radio personality and a youth advocate for their sex rights. Ahem. He’s a soccer fanatic who also plays hockey. Entrepreneur and hustler extraordinaire. In a word, he’s a free spirit.

Aseda blogs. His blog, he says, is a diary. “It’s a collection of stories from a whining citizen who tells it as he sees it through his eyes. And since I am not selfish, I may as well share it with you.” I crack a smile at that last bit.

Take a look yourself: http://mzee-varaq.blogspot.com/

21 days in the City
July: When time folded

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Florence Bett-Kinyatti


Columnist Saturday Nation Writer Craft It Author of best-selling ‘SHOULD I?’ and ‘HOW MUCH?’ ~ Guiding word: Overdrive Subscribe to our Newsletter👇🏾 eepurl.com/igmN8P
  • Dear God, 
It’s me again.

I don’t pray as often as I need to, You know that. I don’t kneel by my bed in child-like humility, as Muna does. I don’t whisper a prayer in the morning. Or at noon. Perhaps just in the evening. 

This going-to-church habit is a constant false start. So is reading the Word. 

I’m often guilty but I also know: You and I have a language only we can understand. 

I speak to You through this gift You bestowed upon my Kale shoulders, this gift to write in colour. It’s a gift that sometimes feels like a curse, a burden I have no choice but to pursue. 

Yet other times – most times, actually – it’s the very breath of my essence. Everyday I sit to write, when the words flow from my head and heart through my fingers to the page, I feel You next to me. 

You are here, Lord. Hovering. Lingering. Swooshing about in Your regal robes, like a character from Bridgerton.

Sometimes You get so close I can feel You breathing on my neck and I’m like, ‘Err, God, do You mind, personal space?’

And You chuckle uncomfortably. ‘He-he, of course. Of course.’

I’m here to tell You, Thanks!

I hosted my first in-person event last March, Lord, thank You to all the lovely ladies who granted me their time and full attention. 

I’ve carried them in my heart since and every day, my prayer is that You bring them closer to the life of abundance they each seek. To their own version of wealth. 

I always call them by their name: Becky. Purity. Lindsay. Wangui. Naomi. Shiqow. Mercy. Liz. Winnie. Polly. Nduta. Lynet. 

And Mike. 

Dear Lord, I’m prepping for my next in-person event in June, Inshallah. 

Walk with me as I get there. 

Love always,

  • Highlights from our first-ever in person event hosted by Craft It and @financialfitbit 
Thanks to all the lovely ladies — and gent, hehe — who honoured us with the privilege of their time and attention. And colourful energy. It’s been weeks since and it’s only now that I’m coming down from the high. 

Thank YOU!

🎥 @mikemuthaka 

#craftit #author #MakeYourMoneyMatter #personalfinance #money
  • I am a woman.

I’m strong. I’m brilliant. I’m like a comet shooting across the sky, I’m so bright you have to put on shades to see me.

I’m almost 40, I’m almost fully realising myself as a woman and the power of womanhood I possess.

I’m so powerful that if KPLC connected me to the national grid, I’d power up this country and we’d never have another blackout.

Ho! Ho! Ho!


To recognize and celebrate International Women’s Day today, I’d like to recognize and celebrate eight women.

I have eight things to give away to each of these women:
a) Two tickets to my upcoming event on March 18 with @financialfitbit Theme is ‘Make your money matter’
b) Three autographed copies of my book ‘Should I?’
c) Three autographed copies of my other book ‘How Much?’

To participate:
1. Like this post
2. Tag women who deserve a win of either event ticket or book (tag as many women as you like)
3. Tell us what you’d like her to win and why she deserves the win
4. Make sure your tagged women follow @_craftit and @financialfitbit 

Here are the rules for the giveaway:
— One woman, one win
— Winners will be contacted via DM
— Giveaway closes at the end of this week, Inshallah, on Sunday 12 March
— Only open to people living in Kenya

All the best!

(Swipe right to see the women I’m celebrating.)

#craftit #internationalwomensday
  • My 2022 word of the year was Wholesome. 

Wholesome meant engaging in moderation and in pursuits that didn’t leave me feeling yucky.

An example: there’re weekend nights I’d go out then have too much to drink. On the drive home, I’d tell GB to stop the car every half mile so I could throw up on the side of the road. Then I’d take three working days recovering. 


No more of that nonsense.

Now I have only two doubles of Singleton whiskey and chase it with water. I eat less food and I eat better. I take my supplements. I treat myself to an early bedtime and arise with my body clock, no alarm.

I spend a lot more time hanging with my kids, Muna and Njeeh. 

I buy fewer things. 

I play the piano. 

I created a disciplined routine for my work and take Thursdays off. 

You catch my drift…

Wholesome has become my lifestyle. 

(By the way, I was asked, ‘Where does this word-of-the-year come from, Bett?’ I don’t know about other people but for me, the words present themselves when I’m journaling. My spirit tells me what it needs; I must be still enough to listen and brave enough to obey.)

My word for 2023 is Overdrive.

My two books have unlocked new opportunities for me as a writer and creative. As an urban brand. I’d honestly not foreseen them. 

I know that if I adjust my sails to where the wind is blowing, these opportunities will translate to wealth.

Last Friday, I listed all the work I’m already doing and all the new opportunities – potential and realised – knocking at my door.

I asked myself, ‘What am I taking up here and what am I dropping?’

The response, ‘None – we go into overdrive and smartly pursue them all.’

#craftit #urbanguide
  • Years ago, my best friend said to me, ‘Bett, we’re almost 40 – forget makeup, let’s take care of our skin instead.’

I had to laugh because this was coming from Terry. Terry my Kisii pal, this fine gyal with skin the colour of honey, the only practising SDA in my circle. 

Terry had spent her 20s and early 30s sleek with Arimis. That’s right, the milking jelly with a lactating cow on its logo. 

Arimis addressed all her skin pickles back then. It was her problem fixer. Her Olivia Pope. It’s the one thing that always said, It’s handled.

Now here she was preaching to us about a consistent skincare regimen in the AM and PM.


It wasn’t until Terry shared her selfies on our girls WhatsApp group that I stopped laughing. It wasn’t until we stood next her – and took these selfies – that I reeally stopped laughing: Terry’s skin was youthful and toned, plump. Hydrated. Moistured but not shiny. 

It looked like it had been kissed by the Greek goddess of radiance. 

So we gathered around her feet and said, ‘Forgive us, master. We are ready now. Teach us everything you know.’

She did. 

Terry and I now spend plenty of time before work and before bed squeezing out little portions of expensive skincare products from expensive tubes, we layer them on our face in a calculated measure.

This serum here is for the circles under my eyes and the fine lines around my mouth.

Turns out I’ve been giving away too much of my face: I’ve been looking too hard, laughing too easily.

I’ll have to spend the next year into my 40s with my eyes half shut and laughing little. I'll have a resting bitch face.

Don’t blame me, blame the retinol.

And age.

#craftit #urbanguide #urbangirl
  • I’m Bett. I’m the author of your favourite books about money. I’m hosting an in-person event in March, Inshallah: This is my personal invite to you.

#craftit #moneymaker #moneyinkenya
  • I am hosting my first money event this March, Inhsallah. It’s the first of quarterly events I have planned for the year. 

(Give me a moment here so I pull myself together long enough to write this. I’m smiling very hard right now, ha-ha, I look like a donkey.)


The event will be in-person. On a Saturday morning, a loose three hours which, I am certain, you’d have burned on some other pursuit you couldn’t account for later. (I’d probably be oiling the hinges of a squeaky door or decluttering my sock drawer.)

My guest host for this edition is Lynet Kyalo. 

Lynet is a personal finance coach under her brand @financialfitbit She also hosts @getyourbagrightpodcast 

Buy your tickets from our Market.

Early bird tickets are discounted until the end of this month.

Limited slots available. 

#craftit #millenialmoney #moneyevent #moneymaker
  • Sometimes I sit down and read my own book. 

Odd, huh?

Reading my own stories is like an out-of-body experience. Or getting introduced to myself again. An outward journey inward.

It’s fascinating.

I also read because I need to improve my writing for my next project.

We call them the Elements of Craft: things like sentence structure and punctuation, word placement, story length etc, they all inform your reading experience.

This is what makes the book easy to read, and has you turning the pages.

Cop your autographed copy and #betteryourmoney 

#craftit #howmuch #millenialmoney #moneymaker

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