Esther A-wrong-gal : Why my fantasies are Hell-on earth

I am today a heart broken man. After a long time harboring decent or otherwise fantasies about a certain news anchor, I have received allegations that have made my heart sink. The Candid Tin Man is in pain. Men all over the world will concur that it is never easy to find brain and brawn in the same butchery. It is always the best brawn, or the best brain... but sadly never both. Seeing a woman on TV who for whatever the reasons seems brilliant despite being beautiful is a novelty. Men are allowed to fantasize about women on TV, even married men, so long as they have little chance of ever meeting them. That is why they do not complain when their women scream at David Beckham or Enrique Inglesias. The fantasies may beneficial in other fora that I will not discuss today.

So I had one such fantasy for a long time in the name of Esther Arunga. Every time she read the news, I needed clarifications. Not because she is not eloquent, she is. But I never really heard what she said when her lips were moving. She fit the bill in my private thoughts - a picture is worth a thousand words and well, am a visual guy. That said, imagine my disappointment today when I learned that she had quit her job at the Kenya Television Network. Only God knows why. Am serious, God really knows why. Not only had she decided that she did not need that employment, but that she had left her fiancé, Wilson Malaba, for another man. Only God knows why. Again am serious, only God knows. It was reported that God had ordained a musician from Nigeria called Quincy to be her future husband.

Ok, I know God has played cupid before getting a rib from a dude and creating a woman. But we all know that he never made that suitor to the requirements that Adam would have demanded. I will not list suggested improvements today. This time, he had made Esther sleep, then He took a rib out of her and made her a Nigerian musician! The man is called Quincy for crying out loud! Quincy Timberlake. It sounded fake - like the son of Quincy Jones and Justin Timberlake. God must really have a sense of humor. But I had more faith in my fantasy girl than to allow rumors on Facebook to ruin my afternoon. I refused to believe that any person, let alone Arunga, would join a certain church named after God's finger - hopefully one of the two on either side. And to say that my fantasy had gone ahead and abandoned her family so that she could sleep in the minister's church was a joke of the highest order. But I was hardly laughing.

So I decided to wait until one way or another I heard from the horse's mouth. It did not take long. The 7PM news were flashed for a larger part with scenes from a press conference called by Joseph Hellon, the minister of the Finger of God Church - again, I hope its one of the other four. He was flagged by his wife and one Esther Arunga of the Tin-Man-Fantasy fame. Ordinarily, I would still be rolling on the floor laughing at the name of the church but funny is barely an adjective when you are watching your dreams shatter. Literally! I was watching my Esther Arunga attempt to explain how there is nothing wrong with sleeping in the pastor's house because it was her choice. Heartbreaking! I was reminded of one Michael, forty years old, explaining how it was no problem sleeping with boys in his bed. I had laughed off that Jackson as a jack-ass and an idiot. I was tempted to do the same at this Arunga but I couldn't. I already told you - it was my Esther and it was not funny!

I watched as Esther bellow at the media, a body of which she had been such a key part. She looked angry. Sexy, but angry. She was throwing threats here and near insults there. She could not understand why the journalists had written such rubbish about her. Who gave them the right to do their job!? She insisted that she could leave anywhere she well pleased and knowing that she meant continuing to cohabitate with Hellon and his wife, I reluctantly gave her a notice of eviction from my subconscious. This saxophonist stranger was not going to do for a three or any other kind of some - those nice images had been irreparably ruined. Hell by Hellon. The hair-burnt pastor was explaining that alcohol was a good thing and that Christians should stop hating such a wonderfully created chemical. I could agree. But he went on to explain that Esther, being a director in some company of his and a long time friend, was justified to have his house keys. After all, if his wife was not complaining, what right did all those idiots with cameras and notepads have to ask?

That is when I realized that I was not the only one whose dreams had been shattered. Mrs. Hellon who had been beside the preacher all this time had been unusually quiet. I know her to be self-spoken and a designer of some stature. An expressionist. So why had she not said a word all this while? She must have been dumbstruck! Mine were fantasies ruined. For her, it was a nightmare in the day unfolding not just before her eyes but also before the whole country. I relaxed. I could not even imagine her predicament. Her husband was trying to justify the presence of a third wheel on their matrimonial bi-cycle. I could see that ever since Esther moved into their house she must have become very uneasy. The bitch had never gone back home like all other believers do after church. I could see that, knowing how sly her husband is, she suspected that could lose the saxophonist to the former news anchor. It must have been a relief when a prophet had brought the message that Arunga was the perfect wife for another musician from a far away land. God playing cupid. A timely miracle. But now someone had complicated matters and Arunga's stay at her matrimonial home would have to be extended until the dust settled. I could see how this poor woman was only smiling because her teeth could not fit behind her shrinking skin. I was disgusted, but she more than I.

I snapped back to scenes of the preaching saxophonist performing at his church. I had watched him perform live at an event to which I carried a blanket and some wine. The picture returned to the press conference where he was breathing fire demanding to be shown a Christian or secular cafeteria. To him, it was nobody's business why he was a secular musician pretending spiritual appointment. Again I agreed. But I burst into unexpected laughter when I heard him say what he said next. Joseph Nimroo Hellon would vie for presidency in the Kenya General elections in 2012 - and Esther Arunga would be his running mate! I dropped to the floor and held my ribs! Maybe he meant Esther will be his mate and they will be running off together. I was now rolling on the floor in amusement. Hellon has his own vote and maybe Esther's, but I could swear that even his wife would not vote for him.

But I was also laughing my heartbreak off. I was clearing my subconscious of all the paraphernalia that Esther had used in my fantasies and repainting the walls for the next occupant. I would have to search the TV personalities once again for another woman who was fortunate enough to sneak a brain when she was handed the beauty. I made a shortlist. Sanaipei Tande, Sheila Mwanyigah and one lady of African origin who hosts the France24 news. I know she says her name at some point but for some reason I have never really heard it... my fault. To include one Juliana from Uganda, I would have to decide who the new tenant to my castle in the air was going to be. If they agreed to live together, even better.

The Candid Tin Man