Things don’t change a lot in our small world. Although when Friday is 13th of Feb, and Valentines Day is the following day, 
folks would make sure that they receive flowers and gifts in the office. And for that matter, the next time Valentine is on Tuesday, and Monday is a public holiday, still, flowers, candies name them will be scootered on Friday. What desperation. Though this was published, hey, well, no harm in republishing…
folks would make sure that they receive flowers and gifts in the office. And for that matter, the next time Valentine is on Tuesday, and Monday is a public holiday, still, flowers, candies name them will be scootered on Friday. What desperation. Though this was published, hey, well, no harm in republishing…Nonetheless folks, the seismic plates of relationships are getting active once again in a cyclic ritual common with urban societies. This is the season of love. And today, you can be certain of radical shifts on the social tectonic plates.
In fact, though I’m not Dr Love, folks, those desirous of a new catch, using your intelligence, just find out the lass who has not received a flower by 2 pm. Dial the nearest florist for quick delivery. There you have it!But, perhaps that is where the adventure ends. You can bet that while new friendships will be formed, many others will be shattered to smithereens. Regrettably, the emotional turmoil we will experience is born more out of naivety than reality.
Folks, Valentine’s Day, for this is what the day of lovers is called, is well choreographed. And the scriptwriter is none other than Wall Street (read capitalism), riding on the whims of societal inadequacies of insecurities or esteem. Let’s see: red wine will flow, red roses will be cut and Swiss chocolate munched… As you read this, the scooter rider is sweating through the labyrinth of traffic, emitting carbon as he delivers goodies. This is perhaps the busiest day for the scooter man in town, and the waiters and chefs in restaurants because, folks, Valentine Day is a multibillion-dollar commercial monster.
This juggernaut is responsible for the restlessness most people are experiencing. It has generated a consumerism machine that gobbles down anything and everything – including your heart, liver, intestines and mind. And the more you fret, the more you yearn, and the happier the businessman is.
And that is whence my little discomfiture stemmeth from. The spirit of Valentine you wallow in is a latter day product manufactured and propagated by the commercial world where we, especially the “educated” and urbanite, would surrender concessions not to love but to the pressures of the marketing glitz. There is nothing like true romance where the unit of measure is expenditure.
I find it to be the most unromantic enterprise for love to be conditioned by sheer marketing tricks that simply stimulate consumption. Valentine is so predictable robbing romance of a prerequisite adventure. The best Valentine, so goes the script, is the one that spends and spends big. Woe unto you if you do not strut to the tune.
Valentine has made the lovesphere an orgy of material bounty. The escapist aura so sought by this kind of lifestyle has never been sated. So our desires keep rising. Is this not the worship of the ancient golden calf as papa Franco bemoans?
When I was a journalist, I got an assignment on Valentine. And this is what I gathered: when that bouquet arrives, so are several receiving the same. The “caring man,” has a Valentine breakfast in Westlands, lunch in Upper Hill, late lunch across Thika Road, early dinner Karen, and finally dinner with the official wife or girl. Yet, every single person in this chain floats in cloud nine.
No. We shouldn’t mourn this anomie. We have allowed our emotions to be converted into objects of commerce. Since we demand certain materials not instinctively, but akin to an oriental bazaar, the giver doesn’t feel the emotional obligation of guilt in the event that he chooses to treat someone else in the marketplace. To him, there is a product in the shelves (emotion) and he has the cash. Simple economics. There is nothing sentimental.Now you know that Valentine Day is simply a construct of capitalism and a pawn in the chessboard of the market place. It’s the confluence of cupidity and stupidity at Wall Street.
I can’t stop marveling at this irony. That even those who pretentious of following the love script on Valentine’s Day, mainly the middle-class, are the ones reported to be having the highest cases of promiscuity and divorce. Just go to the family court at Milimani – all the glitz, glamour and gifts notwithstanding.
On the contrary, take Nyagothie and Nyaga at the slopes. To them Feb 14 is just like July third. The young couple today will work the fields as usual. Tomorrow, they will just be happy perhaps going to church. At the same time, folks in the city will be in lamentations and sounding alarm bells of betrayal.
There is something seriously foul with a society that commoditises such invaluable heritage like religion or love. While primitive societies thronged to the heroic man, of Okonkwo’s stature, who worked the fields and who hunted, it was not for the vanity of it but for protection.
Our generation, on the other hand, is held captive in this conundrum and I highly doubt we are going to unshackle ourselves from it. Love, like religion ought not be subjected to the gimmicks and myths of the market system. A system that has engineered our souls fit for the highest bidder and chastity a verse crooned to the birds.Men have been in a frenzy tying to raise cash for today. Some even took soft loans at work or from friends, and like pal Tosh, well, he accuses the girls for this “mess.”
But wait a minute. It’s not about the girls. Doesn’t it take two to tango? And Men are not to be absolved either. Aren’t the very men who, upon a little cash enthusiastic to splash on this day? Aren’t they the ones who are sustaining this culture? And oh boy, aren’t they loving it?
And forget about the narrative that it is the thought that counts. Not always. Why else would some gift, so bought with a genuine heart and with noble intention, be discarded to the dustbin just because, well, they appear cheap?Perhaps if we discovered our true selves, and our purposes of life, we would be spared of this rat race. Yet, as it were, sadly, such a fete is untenable in a highly consumerist society – and emotions, so standard with human beings – remain a weak point to exploit.