How Mark Zuckerberg Almost Became My Brother-in-Law
Whenever Mark Zuckerberg posts an update without a Kenyan commentary, he faints because we’re always stinging ourselves – including my sisters urging him to have Njeri pilau. It is a marriage proposal that Zuckerberg refused to accept.
Others ask him to allow them to receive inbox their debtors who have blocked them on Facebook. Zuckerberg also ignores him since he is not a debt collector. Another group complains to them about the prevailing high fuel prices. But since Uncle Zuck doesn’t want to be in bad books with the government, he lets it go.
Since I am a wool-dyed Kenyan who is not free from such Kenyan weaknesses, I once asked him when he could visit our hilly county and enjoy our native foods and riverside dishes. I summed it up with a winning wink – I have slender single cousins whose stew is the reason a certain governor was nicknamed minji minji.
Unlike other posts he had always ignored, Mark Zuckerberg commented almost immediately, asking when he could come to Murang’a and see my cute cousins. I replied that our clan is always ready to receive him with traditional snacky dancers at the crossing of the Chania river.
Obviously now in love with our girlfriends, one evening I saw it like all my photos with my chic cousins. Every man, from the humblest to the greats of Silicon Valley, has a weakness: women. At this point, I thought it was good to have hired my future brother-in-law privately and therefore to have him boxed.
And sure enough, like the loving man he was, he took the time out of his busy schedule of banning the guys on Facebook for breaking community standards and chatting with me. Unlike other foreigners who always complain that our daughters have big, shiny foreheads, Zuck, my future in-laws only had choice superlatives for Mumbi’s daughters.
Soon we were on the first name basis – he was calling me Mwas and I was calling him Zucks. In these digital times, you’re just a heartbeat away from a Silicon Valley billionaire – if you’ve got cute cousins and a good sense of words.
One Saturday morning, Zucks told me he wanted us to talk. I knew it was an online dowry negotiation. The certified dowry negotiator in me donned my godpapa, put on my Jomo Kenyatta leather jacket and prepared for the billion dollar dowry negotiation.
After asking how Wambui was doing, Zucks said he had just landed at Jomo Kenyatta Airport on his way to Murang’a.
‘You can me Mpesa 3k, na ya kutoa’. I was taken aback by this rude future brother-in-law who doesn’t know that here, we don’t borrow money from our athoniwa (in-laws).
As I was thinking about where to get the 3k, I checked Zucks’ profile correctly. I had discussed with a certain Mark Zuckerberg Njoroge.