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Social media craze has swept across our minds like bush fire, breathing life to introverts, tumbling on the extroverts and on the flip side killing our century old socialization aspects. Our reference point has to be on the social media. We compete to report first, to show off, to stalk, to break unverified news, to parade our imaginary wealth and to explain to god-knows-who, of what we are up to, travelling to, or where we are savoring sumptuous lunch with whom.

More annoying, we share images of our hours-old kids, never minding that kids are not to be displayed to anybody who cares to see them. Kids are sacred and sensitive and not everybody in social media is happy for you who got blessed with a one. Sorceress and humans who don’t mean well for you are on social media too or at least their agents. In fact they make part of your three thousand friends on Facebook and follow your every move on IG (Instagram). But why would one share a pic of her kid on social media even before she steps out of the maternity room?

We even go ahead to create social media accounts for them. Is that not encroaching on their rights? Whose consent do parents have when they create these accounts? You see, not every kid would be comfortable to learn later in life that virtually all their life was shared widely on social media. A parental expert will tell you this violates a kid’s privacy. Ultimately, we will go down in history as a generation that has not only over-photographed our kids but also over-scheduled for them. We have to come to the realisation that our children are separate human beings with perhaps different tastes, beliefs and personalities from us which ostensibly, should be respected as well. In a nutshell their autonomy and privacy should be accorded the necessary respect. A research done in UK recently revealed that contemporary parents will have shared about 1,000 photos of their kids online before they turn five. Is this fair?

I’m sure you’ve followed on the story of the famous – Kim Kardashian after she was tied up in her luxury bathroom in Paris and her hotel room ransacked and robbed off 9 million pounds worth of jewelleries. Of course no robbery should be justified however; some school of thought would refer Kim as a publicity junkie. In fact one columnist put matters into perspective as far as this American reality television personality is considered, in this form;

For when you live your life as a shop window mannequin, parading the spoils of your success, you cannot be surprised when one day someone smashes down the shop window and lunges at your baubles and bling. Kim Kardashian has built her global fame – and gargantuan fortune – on exposing her life to the public.

Seemingly, Kim is a victim just like many of us who belong to the millennial generation that hovers on approvals, showing off syndrome and rogue competition. To a large extent, social media platform mirrors our inadequacies, insecurities and the gaping emptiness in our lives. That unless we get those staggering likes and double taps, we seem not useful to the world.  Interestingly, we have to let the world know what is taking place around us. There is nothing wrong about it, however, when we overdo it, then it begs a lot. When total strangers get to know all in your wardrobe, or where you can be usually spotted, or how you kitchen layout looks like, then there is trouble.

Speaking of which; you and I know of these IG bigwigs who literally go on the spree, over sharing about their hoods, their family and all the pettiness in between that you can imagine of. In fact, some of you can go round their digs with much ease based on the hundreds on pics uploaded daily about their high end mansions. Just why should we parade all our possessions online?

I was taken aback the other day when I happened to find a photo uploaded by a dude who is supposedly my friend on Facebook, regarding a dowry invitation (read financial help). So the photo had the image of the couple, inviting (soliciting money) Facebook friends to their dowry ceremony. My thinking was; this was an act of desperation. I mean, who shares dowry invites on Facebook? It appeared like soliciting. Please don’t invite people to your dowry or wedding by uploading invites on Facebook for all who care to read them. It somehow dilutes these ceremonies. In fact one appears, ridiculous, laughable, selfish and full of shortcuts. Kindly invite specific people to these ceremonies, not a mammoth of complete strangers on social media who perhaps have never and will never meet you in person.

Further, don’t flaunt your air tickets to Coast on social media; the world is not safe anymore. You never know who might break into your house. And if you have to share them, please let it be after the trip is wrapped up. You just never know. You recall when the infamous Ezekiel Mutua vaunted about his diplomatic passport only to emerge he shouldn’t have been issued with one, in the first place. At his age, was this appropriate? Cut the slack people. Genuine success doesn’t announce itself. You simply can’t have your cake and eat it!

There is an untold rule or is it a memo that should be passed around; That social media is a double edged knife. It is an incredible platform for networking and reaching up to your friends. On the other hand, if a line is not drawn between sharing and oversharing; one can antagonize family and friends, breach on privacy, expose loved ones to unnecessary attention and possibly attract fraudsters.

And by the way, let’s drop this hullabaloo of ‘checking in’ here and there. Who said you should report to social media on every corner you dart at! While at it, stop selfies at funerals. It’s rude and unbecoming. Come to think of it, do we need to be briefed on how your honeymoon is coming along?



skimpy dressYour life is all about playing hide and seek with STIs. Contraceptive pills are more like your breakfast. You spend few nights and more days in your house. What this means is that nights bring you to life while days are meant to nurse your hangovers. You cannot quantify the millions of litres of alcohol you’ve been bought for by strangers (read married men). Twice or thrice in a week you wake up in a stranger’s digs. Your longest dress manages to only cover your waistline. Your entire bosom in many occasions is barely covered. At times you shave one side of your head as the rest deals with drooping braids. This perhaps depict the confusion galore in your empty life. Virtually everything in your apartment is bought for. (Well, directly or indirectly.) From your humongous plasma tv to your cosy leather seats. Your house breathes extravagance, opulence and the finest of things in life. You drive a beautiful, red in colour, Mazda CX-5 whose engine sound is rarely noticeable. You swap boyfriends like under garments. You salivate over married men like men would do to a good piece of land in the outskirts of the city. You purport to be a socialite kumbe you are nothing but a sophisticated w****.

Your ex boyfriends include your erstwhile lecturers, club bouncers, politicians and their chauffeurs. A night out is never complete without shisha escapades. Here you smoke away your self pity and the injured conscious. Your biggest investment is buying scanty clothes and high heels taller than you. In your bucket list; you crave for this sponsor who’ll fly you to his alluring bungalow , somewhere in the outskirts of Lagos, Nigeria. His mansion will be sandwiched by a thick bamboo forest, and life breathed to it by beautiful bird chirpings. You’ll rest in this spacious restroom as you eyes get lost to this fascinating wilderness in your front view via the glass walls. Pulling duvet in the bourgeois sofas will be your other business, dressed in a bikini and sipping red wine. You’ll take selfies and post them on IG to be smothered by envy from your poor and broke chaps.

Growing up in the late 90’s and early 2000’s, women were the epitome of a dignified life. Ladies, were not to be found in trenches and ditches directly opposite a pub at 7 am. In fact to spot a lady drinking, was a rare thing. They didn’t wear things that just covered their waste lines. Being a virgin was something to be proud of. Fast forward now, everything is upside down. That ladies have crossed the infamous red line is something we have to put up with. Opening up your legs to guys you’ve just met is never a bad idea. The other day a lady on tv who seemed barely 21 was like “If you can make more money in a nightclub (where you go to be pried by men) than in the office, why should you then oscillate in uncomfortable sit, for 8 hours.” It makes sense to make money in things you enjoy doing and activities that are actually like a hobby. So this lady, is paid for appearances in clubs. She is a socialite and proud of it. I wasn’t surprised that her role model is Kim Kardashian who came to the fore out of a sex tape. Arguably, Kim is the mother of all socialites.

As far as I’m concerned, strippers, whores and socialites are one and the same thing. You can easily evolve or slip to the other once in this league. Yes, thou shall not judge! You are about to say. I’m not suggesting am anywhere near righteous. I’m just echoing what lies between my disturbed consciousness. Especially when we try to define socialites as a good career for  teenagers to hold thoughts for. They say all that is needed for the forces of evil to triumph is for enough good men to do nothing. We have every responsibility to protect and uphold values. When you show so much skin, it’s a confirmation that you are crying for validation. You are just but an empty shell. You are equating yourself to a walking sex object. In other words, when tongues wag at you, you feel good about yourself. That’s a problem that so many ladies are struggling with. The whole idea of auctioning your body on Instagram and Facebook for ‘sponsors’ passing by is the saddest thing ever and the worst injustice you can ever do to yourself.

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