Over the weekend, a friend of mine and I, were at a garden Christmas event. We found time to converse about the noise of the speakers rendering Christmas songs to talk about – wigs, clothes, makeup, kids, boobs, work, money… when our conversation veered to men as can be expected in conversations where two or three women are gathered.
Well, we may have avoided talking men altogether if a Romeo hadn’t brought us food; we were hungry, my friend and I, but too lazy to get up to join the long queue for food. So you can well imagine how glad we were when someone brought us food.
But before then, we had been admiring two sets of bi-racial couples; the first set, a white guy and a black babe. We watched the white guy, (who by the way looks like Prince Harry) follow his woman around; he was very attentive, laughed when she laughed, held her elbow to keep her from falling as they strolled between guests, and because he was much taller than her, he was half bent most of the time, trying to hear whatever she was saying. He walked her to the food area and stood in front to get her food. He got her a glass of wine and took her plates when she was done.
My friend and I looked at each other and shared knowing smiles that said- love wantintin; Babe is enjoying oyibo man’s attention, you can’t try dis ya sereren with dudu naija man.
I mean, why would naija man collect your plate from you after you’re done eating? He must still be toasting you, ni.
Anyway, the other couple was a black guy with a white woman; our guy was partially attentive; many times he left his woman straining to find him in the crowd. He is not short o; he just enjoyed disappearing into the crowd to laugh out loud with friends and relatives he found there. I sighted him several times among circles of guests guffawing over conversations. As for the poor white girl, she wandered around the garden searching faces looking for him.
Sisi, go siddon, e dey come!
So, in between mouthfuls of tasty rice and salads, my friend and I agreed that not all men are bad; not all men are hypocrites; not all men are wife beaters and lastly, not all men are demons.
Demons entered the convo when my friend sighted a guy we both agreed was good looking.
My friend called him a ‘Yoruba demon.’
‘Haba, so every fine boy in Lagos is now a Yoruba demon?’ I asked.
‘Yes, o’ she said, ‘they are the fine dressers, sweet talkers, the ones who will promise you heaven and earth and then dump you.’
‘How did Yoruba men get themselves into this demon thing?’ I asked
What is the origin of Yoruba demon sef?
Like my friend described, a Yoruba demon connotes a young, fine looking, killer dresser but two faced Yoruba guy.
When did a young Yoruba boy become the poster boy for cheaters and men of irresponsible behaviour?
Statistics? From where?
Twitter hashtags? From girls who have had nasty experiences with Yoruba boys?
If we have a general agreement that our culture of male masculinity allows men a lot of liberty; for instance, it’s ok to cheat, even if your wife catches you cheating, she is the one society expects to forgive and forget and pray and “war room” and work harder at making the man stay at home; secondly irresponsibility in men has no tribe, in fact, it has no gender, so why then don’t we have demons from other ethnic groups?
Does it mean there are no Ibo demons? Hausa killers/demons? Edo demons/wizards? Akwa Ibom mind readers?…
And why are Yoruba boys taking pride at being labelled Yoruba demons? Is demonism the way to be cool?
How come these so called demons are always dressed to kill? (lol)
‘Just asking for a friend.
And to you, eyin boys, the so called Yoruba boys, why are you falling my hand in this devil’s game, you will lose all your fine fine yoruba women to the other tribes o.
You have already lost me, sef.