I was jamming to a new hit “Try- Colbie Caillat” plugged to my earphones because I seriously couldn’t stand the noise coming from the speakers of the Kasarani metro buses . I glanced out the window and instead of catching the outside scenery, I caught my reflection on the window- I should have seen a woman, a lady, a grown up girl. But what I saw was a prey, a victim of the ugly stares of men, a gender subjected to being locked behind the kitchen door, the same anatomy of the rape victims I see on TV, the so called ‘weaker sex’.
To hear the voices in my head more clearly I took my earphones off. Lil Wayne’s song about ‘bitches and whores’ was booming-making a closing statement to my thoughts, worse, I spot two seats from me a man nodding his head to the tune and singing along as though chanting a prayer. My attention gets caught to the conversation coming from my south (I wont call it eves dropping, just minding their business). Two women, one going on and on about how she and the boyfriend are having problems and he dared abuse her. I waited to hear the words of wisdom from the friend and instead I heard this, ‘That is how they shows you they care.’
Are women still deceived by these belief, that bartering is a show of love? I object! Love is what we give and are happy to receive. If bartering is love, why are Nyeri men going to the hospital and are all over the news when their women beat them for coming home drunk. Women , what you confess you possess so choose carefully the treatment you accept to be given and burst your lungs saying NO! We won’t say you were weak but be proud of you. Einstein said: I’m thankful to all those who said No to me, its because of them I did it myself. The bus came to a halt at ambassador and out I went, but not before turning around sharing the link: http://amiraafrica.co.ke with the disturbed woman, apologizing for listening in on their conversation and told her to be the exception to the belief and leave the unhealthy relationship.
Along Tom Mboya street I bump into over a dozen women with sunglasses on in-spite of the chill weather. It got me thinking, could it be to mask last night, when his fist walked into your face? could the scarfs be elastoplast to your wounds? When the foundation on your face is wiped, could it expose the scars you wear? Let my lungs get sore but ill scream to stop these violence. Let my fingers wobble of tire but I can’t stop writing against this evil.
When we orange our world, orange our hood and orange our neighbor, we are blocking the fists to this generation of women, we are silencing the screams of our daughters and sons, we are trying to smile for ten more seconds. So take your earphones off and listen, listen to the people around you.
by Zainabu Boke.