Collector's dairy

One of my colleagues called me to say that my leave was due, so I decided to stay on in Casablanca. My idea was that I could spend the leave in Morocco and succeed to convince Fatima to follow me to Cameroon. I wanted to marry and take her home or bring her home and marry her. She is so beautiful I knew that I would have the most beautiful wife around.

In her eyes, I could see both love and doubt. She was not very sure. It showed in her eyes that she loved me but did not trust me. Even when I asked to meet her parents, she wouldn’t give in.

She had decided that we make love once a week and only once, but in her own way. So, she continued giving it to me but not in my way – the normal way.

When I said, several times, that we should make love the right way, after all, I was going to marry her, I could read her body language. She continued blocking me from entering her Jerusalem and rather directed my truncheon each time but to Jericho. Each time I tried to enter Jerusalem; she would skip and push me away. I would plead that I will not do it again and she would put her hand flat on the gate into Jerusalem. I am sure she just wanted to satisfy me. I never felt her get orgasm all the times that we met.

The International Women’s Day met me in Morocco. After giving Fatima some presents for the Women’s Day, I told her that I would stay in my room and read the whole night. But in the evening, I sneaked out of my room and went out of the hotel. By now, I knew my way around and did not need even the Help of my Moroccan friend Ahmed. He might betray me to Fatima.

I moved from one red light district to another. I was so anxious and was expecting women to celebrate Women’s Day the way it is done in Cameroon. I expected to see women doing the “soulever” like our women do back home. I knew that was one of the ways of identifying a woman who needed s*x so that I could take advantage of the situation the way guys do in Cameroon, but I was disappointed.

Moroccan women rather demonstrate more love towards their husbands on Women’s Day. There are lower divorces because the marriage institution is still very strong and sacred. I returned to the hotel and decided to watch news around the world; hence I zapped from one channel to the other.

I expected to see those playing female in homosexual relationships taking part in the Women’s Day celebrations around the world, but did not. I don’t know if I didn’t choose the right channel at the right time or I simply missed that.

The thought made me laugh all alone. I know how I admire women and yearn for them, especially the beautiful and beautifully shaped ones. So, a man will leave these very corpulent and succulent creatures for another man God forbid!
It was my last week in Morocco.

I increased my efforts to make Fatima follow me, but they all ended in vain. She used what a woman uses to keep a man off her. “I will think about it,” she said. When I said I wanted to know because I was going back home to resume work, she said: “Let’s stay online.”
My friends and I have agreed that there are certain things that can be said only in Pidgin to aptly represent what they are. So, I told myself, “better man go yi for Eritrea.”

I hear that the man-woman ratio in Eritrea is 1:5. I hear a law was passed there that every man must marry more than one wife. That women scramble for men and even pay men to make love to them.

Besides, the women are as beautiful as Moroccan or Ethiopian women. That evening, I made my reservations and the following morning I hopped onto an Ethiopian Airline plane.
Eritrea, here I come!
The Collector