She’s at a Party, Boychild's on the Sofa — What’s Going On?

The recent Mataha Kikuyu Festival went viral over the weekend — not necessarily because of the event (which was wonderful, by the way), but because of a Facebook post that got everyone talking.

One lady, Sandra Shiku, shared her observations after attending the event, and let’s just say she touched a nerve.

In her long, heartfelt post, she noted that most of the people at the festival were women. The energy was vibrant, the outfits were stunning — but the men were nowhere to be seen.

That question — “Where is the Kikuyu boychild?” — has now become the hot topic.

But as one of the said boychildren (and after consulting a few of my brothers in the struggle), allow me to explain why we’re missing in action — and why most of us are perfectly fine staying right where we are: at home.

First off, men nowadays have discovered the joy of peace and pocket-friendly entertainment. A few drinks at home, FIFA or Call of Duty with the boys, and some EPL in the background — that’s a solid weekend.

You don’t need to fight through traffic, queue for overpriced drinks, or sweat in a crowd full of strangers who won’t even look your way.

Secondly — these events are expensive! Between the ticket, outfit, transport, and refreshments that cost like fuel in July, you’re already deep in the red.

Now imagine going with a lady — suddenly, your 15K plan has turned into 25K because, apparently, “a gentleman doesn’t let a lady pay.” So the average guy looks at that math and says, “Wacha tuwache ikae, bro.”

Then comes the biggest threat of them all — mchele. The streets are dangerous, and no man wants to end his night trending on TikTok with the caption “Man found confused in Ruai.”

Another reason — and it’s a big one — is that most men feel like these events are marketed to women. The posters, the décor, even the hashtags all scream #GirlsLoveMugithi.

You’ll see glowing wine glasses, coordinated kaftans, and captions like “Ladies, this one’s for you!” So men just quietly assume, “Ah, hii ni ya mababes, si yetu.”

And let’s be honest — most of us don’t dance. Unless there’s Mugithi and a suspiciously affordable beers involved, we’re not built for those dancefloors.

Meanwhile, the ladies are out there living their best lives, dancing with each other and capturing it for Instagram.

Lastly, men have simply realised that the hustle of “getting a lady” at such events is rarely worth it. You’ll buy drinks, try small talk, maybe dance once, and she’s gone — back to her girl gang faster than you can say “DJ play that song again.” As we like to say, the juice is not worth the squeeze.

So no, the boychild has just chosen peace and not disappeared. He’s in the house, watching Arsenal break his heart again, eating mutura with the boys, and thanking God that at least his wallet survived another weekend.