Big Man Wamkulu

I was bleaching now no one wants me

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Dear Old Man,

I am confused, lost and desperate. I need a man but no one wants me.

Here is my story.

I am a 28-year-old businesswoman who lives in Lilongwe. I import cheap stuff from China and resell them at exorbitant price to idiots in the Capital. While my business was thriving, my looks were waning due to frequent travelling, lack of rest and worries that I was getting old without a man in my life.

Then one bright morning a lady friend asked me why I still looked like a village girl when I had tonnes of money. ‘Why are you as black as coal? Why is your face littered with pimples as frog’s skin?’ she quizzed.

Although we laughed off the questions, they left me scared. I started looking for answers and one day, I was introduced to bleaching. I was told men like light-skinned women.

For two years, I bleached. I injected stuff into my bottom to grow some hips. I took concoctions to lighten the skin and worked out to death to have the perfect body. But BMW, after all the effort, men would still run away when they see me as if they had seen a ghost.

Last year, a miracle happened. I met a white man from the US via Facebook. He really loved me and wanted to marry me. But the day he came to visit, and met in fresh and blood, he nearly fainted. The next morning he called off the relationship. He says he does not want a bleached woman. He wants a normal looking Malawian woman. He says he likes black women to be darker.

So here I am BMW, what do I do to look normal again?

Coconut, via WhatsApp, City Centre

 

Hello Coconut,

I fail to find a reason you choose to call yourself Coconut, because in deed, word and action you are far from being that indigenous fruit we love for its fine water, yes coconut water. Or, do you take it that you are bleached beyond white that you can’t identify your own image in the mirror that you see yourself as a personification of the inside of a coconut?

You are lost my dear. You lost the plot once you thought the graceful giraffe can become a monkey. You swallowed lies that men love women with lighter complexion. You were fed lies that men—Malawian men—would rather be in relationships with women who are lighter. That is a lie!

I will tell you what, trying to redefine beauty by skin colour is akin to racism, it is an outright fallacy. You fell for it, ignorantly. I have sisters, workmates and friends who know that skin tone contributes a very minimal percentage on love.

For that matter, a baobab can never become an apple, no matter how much sugar you add to it. It is a baobab that is only crazy that will believe one day it will become an apple to be more pleasing.

For that matter, it appears you are greatly doomed. Even the American had to vanish like vapour when he found you were bleached beyond recognition! I feel for you.

If you ask me what you have to do. I will tell you. Come to my crib and you will have solace. You will have better times. I have a swimming pool and you have ignited a fire in me. I will drain all the water, and the guys from Castel Group are very much willing to do you and I a service. They are supplying Cocacola to fill up the pool. A swim is all your need to get back your black beauty state you lost like virginity.

Komatu izi mudaziyamba dala nokha mama!

Big Man Wamkulu

 

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