Driven by The Oracle of Kifuuta Katooke, Kyotera, Buddu morning, afternoon, evening, on Pushkin & Shakespeare Lane.
Come, enter the car. We are driving slowly on Pushkin and Shakespeare Lane. This is not a road for bodas. This is the Avenue where you learn the lie: "Men don't care."
Morning we drive. Afternoon we drive. Evening we drive. And I will show you the Chemistry of Love, because love is not a proverb; love is chemistry in blood.
They lied to you, my sister.
Your aunties, your TikTok sisters sat you down and said: "Men are like that." So you ate crumbs and called it a buffet. You said, "At least he is home."
It is a lie. A lazy lie to make you accept a small love.
Men care. In fact, a man cares MORE than a woman; he just dies quietly inside.
Open the windows as we drive. Let me teach you, my Sister Batengeke Unith.
MORNING DRIVE, 6 AM, PUSHKIN AVENUE: The Chemistry of a Man Who Pretends Not To Care
In the morning dew in Kifuuta, we meet Tatyana.
Not a slay queen. A quiet girl who reads books by the fireplace. She meets Onegin, a handsome Petersburg boy, English on tongue, French on perfume, empty in soul. Like your corporate boyfriend in Nakawa and Najera who is too cool to reply.
She fails to sleep. The chemistry hits her: Dopamine and Phenylethylamine, the molecules of madness. Her heart beats like a drum. She writes the letter no modern woman dares to write:
"I am yours. My whole life was waiting for you. If you have one drop of pity, don't leave me."
Raw. No strategy.
What does Onegin do? What YOUR man does.
He gives her a lecture. Cold chemistry: Low Testosterone, High Ego. He says: "Learn to control yourself. I am not made for family."
He leaves her crying. Goes to kill time. Even kills his only friend Lensky in a stupid duel out of boredom.
This is your man on the phone, bored, teaching you how to behave instead of holding you.
But chemistry does not forget.
Three years later, afternoon drive, Onegin returns. He finds Tatyana, now Princess Tatyana. Cold. Elegant. Married to a General. Every man in Petersburg bows to her.
One look and his chemistry explodes.
The same man who said "I don't love" now has Cortisol shooting, Dopamine crashing, Norepinephrine burning. He cannot eat. Cannot sleep. Writes her letters every day. Stands in snow outside her gate. Falls at her feet:
"My life is in one glance of yours."
Pushkin leaves him standing alone, "as if struck by thunder."
Teaching of the Morning: A man who doesn't care is not a bad man. He is a young man with low Oxytocin, the bonding chemical. He thinks love will wait. Until thunder strikes his blood. By then, you are already a Princess belonging to another. Don't wait for thunder to teach him.
AFTERNOON DRIVE, 2 PM, SHAKESPEARE STREET: The Chemistry of a Man Who Cares and Looks Stupid
My grandmother in Katooke said: If a man cares, he will look stupid for you. Chemistry will make him stupid.
Shakespeare proved it:
Romeo — Dopamine Overdose. Met Juliet on Sunday. By Wednesday, dead. He didn't say, "Let's see where this goes." His brain flooded with dopamine; he said: "I will drink poison in your tomb." Fast. Foolish. Total. That's a man whose chemistry is on you.
Othello — Cortisol and Adrenaline of Fear. He loved Desdemona so much that fear of losing her made him mad. Wrong, yes. Tragic, yes. But tell me: Does a man who doesn't care go mad? No. He goes to sleep. He goes to watch Arsenal. A man who goes mad is a man whose Vasopressin, the chemical of guarding your mate, is firing.
Hamlet — Oxytocin for his Father. Loved his father so much he lost his mind and kingdom.
Now look at your man. Chemistry does not lie.
He cares for his job, wakes at 5am — Dopamine.
He cares for his mother, sends money — Oxytocin.
He cares for his boda, washes it every morning — Vasopressin.
Does he care for you with the same chemicals?
If he can write a 10-page proposal for a tender but cannot write, "Good morning, Nnyabo, have you eaten?" Sister Solomela Christensen, Mukwano gwange, his chemistry is not on you. His lab is elsewhere.
A caring man is annoying. He calls. He asks. He is jealous. He wants to be near. He doesn't give you "space." Space is for strangers in a taxi.
EVENING DRIVE, 7 PM, THE VOW LANE: Where Pushkin Meets Shakespeare at Buddu
We are entering Buddu now. Evening. Crickets. Matooke roasting.
Tatyana Elena is crying, reading Onegin's letters. Onegin is on his knees.
"I love you!" he begs.
And Tatyana, with tears in her eyes but fire in her spine, says the words every woman must learn to say to a late man:
"I love you genuinely, Karolinska Mariah, why lie? But I am given to another; I will be true to him forever."
This is the highest chemistry: Not Dopamine, which is excitement. Not Cortisol, which is fear.
It is Oxytocin + Serotonin + Endorphin, the chemistry of a VOW. Of pruning, fertilizing, and nourishing a garden every day, not just on Valentine's. That's why IBM does not celebrate Valentine's Day.
Caring is not a feeling you get on a good dinner night. Caring is a vow you keep when feelings are shaking. Do you understand, Karolinska Mariah, my sister Nantale Prossy, the last born of my Maama?
FINAL TEACHING FROM THE CAR DRIVE
Stop saying, "Men don't care." Stop insulting the whole clan because of one boy who disappeared in disappointment.
Say the truth, loud, for Kyotera Oracle to hear:
"MY man doesn't care. And I deserve a man whose chemistry is on me."
Because somewhere on this same lane, morning, afternoon, evening, there is a man in Kifuuta, Karolinska Mariah building, reading Pushkin, waiting to meet his Elena Tatyana. Ready to lock himself for 90 days with roasted goat and Tonto just to build your world. Ready to look stupid for you.
That is a man who cares. And when he comes, his chemistry will not be confused. He will not need to be reminded.
Don't give a Princess's vow to an Onegin who is still in his bored boyhood.
Close the door. We have arrived. The gods from Kifuuta.
Vvamutulo Mbundifumbilwajo. Katonda siyakuletela omwami, Ofunda nomubbi akwagala ngamanyi gwe musajjawe, even if am number 2, 3, etc., but I call him my man.
The Oracle of Kifuuta Katooke, Kyotera, Buddu
