There’s something going on in the Big Brother house; I am not sure if its just I or Big Brother is intentionally trying to rob the entire public of what should be theirs-explicit entertainment.
I should have guessed from the very first night; just in an hour of these guys meeting, they engrossed in a macho argument. Justice and Kwaku (should be Kwaku) and Richard, and more, sprang into action arguing about the power of the white race versus the black race. an issue not only too sensitive to be discussed on South African based TV but also, just plain boring. Right there was (not-so-little) miss Namibia asking for some one, any one, to touch her breasts and affirm (to her, most likely) that they were not fake. and Lerato just wanted to let the point sink in that since she’s the girl from the ‘host country’, she would be the queen of the pack. and what a shame that all the guys could come up with as their ‘bonding’ story was, why white people make more money, and are more successful than black people. Does any one ever think of Orientals, the Hispanics… I was almost picking my phone to call Timothy Kalyegira. I actually did pick it up, then i remembered, I had never imagined that i would ever need his phone number this bad.
So back to the house mates and big brother’s not-secret-any more- mission; If there is any one hoping that some action, sexually speaking, is going to take place in that house, just switch to the premiership already. The only people having sex or sexual thoughts with any big brother housemates are the guys in Namanve; whoever it is that does the show’s commentary for the Red Pepper. end of story.
Thing is, Biggie (that’s every one in that control room/sponsors of the show), like every other enterprising individual, knows that you can always win with the sex card; push the ratings, get people talking and others addicted, because, lets face it, there is a voyeur in each one of us. But he also knows the power of giving the client what they least expected-a great alternative!
So now instead of having sex, (and by sex i mean everything sexual) they are talking about it, at very great length.
That should be fun, right. its what little high school kids spend their break time dreaming of -the sheer freedom of expressing themselves sexually, just in speech. and when they grow up to get jobs and homes, they take time off to talk about sex. the ladies meet in coffee shops or bridal and baby showers, the men meet in pubs or the office cafeteria, and live it up. you have no idea , well may be you do, how just a chest, that plain old chest of yours, can be a result of the most ellicit talk any man/woman has ever had.
And now biggie has put it right there, in our living rooms. That indeed should be a very good thing. Only it isnt.
These housemates are talking about the gross kind of sex; they are going on about sex in terms of diseases, violence, abuse and death.
So it shouldnt surprise any one that even when not-so-little Miss Namibia is stuck in the Jacuzzi, physically begging for some guy to touch her; sitting up, sitting down, turning this way and moving her legs that way. no one is going to.
Not because they dont want to. who wouldn’t want to. but because the self given sensitization talks are working. No one will conclude a speach of ‘sex kills’ and ‘Let’s choose Life’. And then, with the same people and the same audience, dive right into it.
Poor not-so-little-Miss 21.