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Some Tribe in Africa

After a sinful, protein rich breakfast; Jim or Tom or Dick or whatever his name was picked up the literary supplement of the Sunday newspaper. He presently preferred to keep his eyes on the passers-by on the street, however he found it necessary to bury his nose into reading material to avoid the gaze of the young waitress; who’s attractiveness intimidated him.

As soon as their eyes met he composed a flowchart in his head that started with the options [Don't talk to her] and [Chat her up]. The former was rather simple. The latter was a minefield of social interaction that ranged from moderate social embarrassment at best to a nightmare of Marital Bliss. With a little house in the burbs surrounded with white picket fence to keep the domestic misery from spreading out and prying eyes from oozing in.

He glanced through the supplement until he read: yes, I am a woman and an anti-feminist. So sue me. He fast-forwarded to the predictable part where the author, in a desperate bid to generate controversy for her latest book ‘The Castration’ had claimed our society effeminates men. In her defence she had conducted some irrefutable research to defend her argument. There are, like, tribes in Africa where young boys are expected to kill a lion or a tiger with bare hands to prove their manhood. But in a society like ours, a rite of passage ceremony consists of begging mom to buy a new smart phone or games console. John or Mark or Steve or whatever his name was, pictured the author looking at a map of Africa trying to pronounce the name of the like, tribe she spoke of in the interview.


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