Yes, I said it. Men don’t bathe. And Nyege Nyege, in all its wild, muddy glory, has once again exposed the brothers.

Picture this. It’s 7am at the massive tent city along the Nile. The sun is barely awake, but the women? The women are up, organised and storming the bathrooms like a battalion on a freshness mission. The female showers are packed. Steam everywhere. Towels everywhere. A queue stretching outside with more ladies anxiously waiting their turn.

And let’s be honest — the festival organisers know what’s up. The women’s bathrooms are double the number of the men’s, because demand has never lied.

Now… cross over to the men’s side.

Silence.

Emptiness.

A ghost town.

The “boys” are just standing around their tents, scratching places that don’t need scratching at 7am, lighting cigarettes, debating who stole whose power bank — anything except walking towards the showers. Not even by mistake.

It gets so empty that the girls begin colonising the men’s bathrooms too — marching in with their shower buckets and shower gel like conquerors — and the men don’t even protest. Why would they? They weren’t planning on using them anyway.

Truth is, many men only bathe under extreme circumstances. A mud fall. A beer spill. A direct insult from a crush. Otherwise, these guys will confidently raw-dog the day as if water is a rumour.

Ba guy, why don’t you like bathing? Honestly. Let’s talk.

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