ILOVEYOU BUG

I was excited the other day. Elated, ecstatic,
enraptured and all the other e-words. I
received an e-mail from a she I’ve been
courting fruitlessly for several months. She’s
been resisting my advances, but as soon as
I read the subject line of her e-mail, I knew
my persistence was finally going to pay off in
a big way. The subject line read, “ILOVEYOU.”

Yes, yes, yes! She’s finally returning my love,
I thought. And she’s declaring her feelings in
all capital letters, too! That means she’s
really serious. Even before I read her full
message, I was ready to dash off an e-mail
to her, screaming, “ILOVEYOUTOOBABE!”

I wanted to send e-mails to all my friends,
saying, “I told you so. I knew she’d come
around. I knew she wouldn’t wait until I’m the
last man on Earth.”

But when I opened her e-mail, I was
crushed. Her “love letter” to me was an
attachment carrying a computer virus. It was
infecting my computer and deleting some of
my files. And even more distressing, it was
sending the very same “ILOVEYOU”
message to everyone in my address book,
including a number of MEN. Talk about a
dangerous virus! I had to act quickly. I didn’t
want people to get the wrong idea about
me. I know how rumors get started. One day
I’m telling a bunch of men I love them, the
next day I’m receiving flowers from Omar
Abdullah. Before I know it, Dr. Kimani is telling
everyone I’m a biological error. Pretty soon,
my mother and Dr. Kimani are ducking it out,
setting off World War III. And I’m hiding in a
closet with Charo Shakombo , the fisherman.

But what could I do? I thought about calling
everyone in my address book and warning
them about this destructive virus: “If you get
a message from me that says I love you,
delete it immediately. I don’t love you. At
least not in that way – not in all capital
letters. Not in the way that Wahu loves
Nameless, Kibaki loves Lucy, or
Chris Kirubi loves himself.”

But I didn’t know the phone numbers of
everyone in my address book. Some were
just strangers who had e-mailed me a joke,
wise saying or some other harmless
message. And here I was, hardly knowing
them, but still telling them, “ILOVEYOU.”
What would they think?

Raila Odinga: “Hey
Ida , check zis out. Zis Kamba guy is zaying
zat he loves me. Vat a freak. He muz be
very desperate. Doesn’t he know zat I’m ze
Agwambo? I’ll hit him zo hard, he’ll start
speaking like me.”

Kalonzo musyoka: “Asi!, look at this. I must
be more popular than the polls show. I’ve
received more than 1,000 ‘ILOVEYOU’
messages today, even one from Ngilu.
The Runaways — Agwambo, William Ruto,
even Papa Jemo — they all love me. I
wonder what they want. I don’t care what
they say, Kalonzo is going to State house.”

You’ve probably guessed that I didn’t really
receive the infamous “ILOVEYOU” e-mail,
which caused billions of dollars in damage
worldwide. But if I had, I would have opened
the attachment. Like thousands of people
who fell victim to the love bug, I would have
been pleased — for at least a few seconds –
that someone loves me. Even if that
someone was a man.

It’s too bad that it took a virus creator to get
so many people to say, “ILOVEYOU.”