Monday, November 17, 2014

#MyDressMyChoice? Sorry the categorical and consequential moralist in me begs to differ.

I beg to digress a bit, let me bring to the fore the story of Kanyari, from what I gathered from Jicho Pevu expose (Makri ya Injili- btw how does Moha ever come up with such titles, they make Kiswahili sound like Greek, if this is Kiswahili then I must say I got a raw deal from my Kiswahili teacher and syllabus for that matter:-P) Anyways back to Kanyari, now this Lady who apparently is in pain walks up to the alter to be prayed for by Pastor Kanyari, she says she hasn't been able to get proper medication regarding her excruciatingly painful breasts, naively she believes that pastor will be able to pray for her to alleviate her suffering, but lo and behold, the good pastor caresses her breast -forgive me but I think I saw a hard on - (from my approximation, she must have been in her late 40s or early 50s, the pastor in question should be in his mid 30s or late 30s not sure ) and goes ahead to order her to show her breast to the congregation casually saying that “kwani nani hajaona matiti”. In the whole saga, this is the part that got to me the most, I imagined that lady being my mother, I felt her desperation in losing her dignity by allowing the congregation to see her breast, the congregants among-st whom were young enough to be her kids, but she did this hoping that the man of God will help in her healing, that the embarrassment was a small price to pay for her healing, the healing that never was!

There is something almost sacred about women’s body, something that ought to be venerated, loved, cherished and feared at the same time. In 1992, Wangari Maathai led a group of women that occupied “Freedom Corner” in Nairobi’s Uhuru Park, demanding the release of political prisoners arrested and detained by the Moi regime. The government sent armed police to evict the women, who stripped naked in protest and defiance. Wangari Maathai was beaten unconscious and hospitalized, but the women of Freedom Corner eventually won.
Kenyan women have been laying their bodies on the line for years. A group of women stripping naked in public is one of our most potent political practices. Women’s bodies work as a potential and latent public space in Kenyan modernity because they usually appear in public only under cover: a frightening secret weapon everyone knows about. In many African communities, there is no stronger curse or taboo upon men than seeing “the mothers naked.” There is no stronger way for women acting together to register political dissent. Deployed in this way, women’s bodies have the power to make (something) public, to create “a public” around this action, and thus to produce both public-ness and publicity from the ground of their own corporeal materiality.
Not only has women used their bodies to gain political mileage in an otherwise impasses situations, we have heard some hollow threats of “I will strip if this and that happens not”- Ester Murugi comes to mind regarding Uhuru Kenyatta’s ICC case, am still waiting for her to make good her threats.
Why this long narrative about women’s body, you may ask. Well only after reading this will you understand where I am coming from and why I would literally strangle Kanyari with my bare hands, because he stripped that lady, that lady who could as well pass as my mother, that lady whose only crime was excruciating pain her dignity.
Before I continue any further, let me categorically state that I DO NOT condone any stripping whatsoever of any being, especially a woman who has brought forth another being in this world, in the same breath let me also categorically say that I DO NOT subscribe to #Mydressmychoice agenda being pushed. To argue my case I will borrow heavily from Emmanuel Kant- a German philosopher best known for his groundwork for the metaphysics of morals publication. Kant says that we are rational beings capable of reason, autonomous beings capable of choosing freely (able to choose how we dress and how we act should anyone dress in a manner that we are not comfortable with), he says that human beings have a categorical duty to RESPECT the dignity of persons and not to use people as means merely even for good ends.
To act autonomously, Kant continues, is to act according to a law one gives him/herself, the reason that leads us to the law we give ourselves as autonomous beings is the reason that we share as human beings, it is not idiosyncratic, the reason we need to respect the dignity of persons is that we are all rational beings, we all have the capacity for reason and it’s the exercise of that capacity for reason which exists undifferentiated in all of us that makes us worthy of dignity and since it’s the same capacity for reason unqualified by particular autobiographies or lifestyles or circumstances, it’s the same universal capacity for reason that delivers moral law, thus to act autonomously is to act according to a law we give ourselves exercising our reason that is the reason we share with everyone as rational beings not the particular reason we have given our upbringing , values or interests, it’s pure practical reason which legislates our priori regardless of any particular contingent or empirical law .
Therefore Kant emphasizes the need to uphold human dignity regardless of the circumstances, as a firm believer of categorical moral reasoning, Kant urges us to do the right thing for the right reason that the motive of duty and no any other motive should be the only force propelling us into undertaking something.
As a follower of consequential type of reasoning, I believe in analyzing the consequences of my actions, for every action there is an equal reaction and based on the consequences of my actions including my mode of dressing I can deduce that as much as I would have a preference on how to dress, my environment to a greater extent dictates how I carry out myself, how I dress and sometimes even what I say.
Decency is key to earning respect, decency is key on how people perceive you and therefore my dressing choice is not only dictated by the environment I am in, but also by the message I want to pass and this cuts across to both males and females. On Jamhiri day celebrations, Bahati of Barua hit song wrote and I quote:

"The past days I have received texts and in-boxes from my fans & family about my #SAGGING_HABITS which today has been a talk on social media after my Mashujaa celebration performance at Nyayo stadium. I know God has blessed me with some of you who are mature, ahead of me by age and I really can't ignore this. I will accept that am 20yrs old & still growing but I thank you for every correction for it makes me more mature and responsible today than yesterday.
Am officially writing this to say #BIG_THANK_YOU for every correction and asking you as my family to #FORGIVE_ME_FOR_I'AM_SORRY and willing to change. I may not be perfect tomorrow but am sure I'll try my best to be a better man than today"

This was after fans took issues with how he was dressed. It takes courage to say you are sorry and for this I respect Bahati for he did not look at his popularity or success and chanted #mydressmychoice but he had the humility to say, I erred and I promise to improve. Ruth Matete did the same and therefore unlike the woman who was stripped off her clothes and dignity (which was very uncalled for and unfortunate), these are individuals who were also stripped naked on social media but had the audacity to say look, am only human but I promise to do better.
My sister went to her 7 year old girl’s parents meeting, great legs and body she has and so she decided to flaunt them a bit in a mini skirt that rose well past her thighs when she sat, after the meeting, her daughter called her a side and said “ Mommy, usiwahi kuja kwa shule yetu kama umevaa hivyo tena, sitaki watoto wengine wanichekelee” and the mum was, ohh swiry, didn't you like my skirt, and she was like, not exactly I’d prefer something not as short and tight when you come to our parents’ day...see that's a priori knowledge that even kids posses!
I believe even in our various work places employers have somewhat dictated what’s acceptable in a working environment, for starters I know equity bank is a no trouser zone for ladies, the only place where #mydressmychoice slogan would actually fit would be in one’s bedroom but even then that would only be applicable if one is single, I do know our menfolk cherishes not t-shirts known as walking billboards and therefore as much as we would want to be one and in solidarity with our sisters whose dignities was stripped, we shouldn't do it under the burner of #mydressmychoice we should do it under the burner of respect for all and sundry bearing in mind that respect starts with self and that environment and sometimes occasions have their own specific set of demands that even known libertarians are yet to conclusively argue.
.....................................When in Rome, do as Romans do.......................................
  






Monday, November 10, 2014

Its twists and turns, its butterflies and rats- first date it is!


“Right now am just trying to figure out my life, what maze I am in and what will unfold after, and that is Very specific” he said with some sense of finality, somewhat like he was passing a point he felt was not getting home, a point he needed to get home. All through he had been avoiding direct eye contact, and no he wasn't shy it was more in hiding what the eye might reveal, maybe hiding a decision that had been made the moment he set his eyes on her? But this time he looked at her, looked at her direct in the eyes like wondering why on earth was she bubbling with laughter, confidence and ease that signified conquest yet this was not to be and so he emphasized “and that is very specific” emphasis was on the present, “is” carried the weight, weight he hoped was now understood! Her ears betrayed her not, she heard it, she heard the emphasis, played it over and over again in her head, mind and heart all while maintaining that disarming smile, a boisterous laughter but a sunken spirit, was that sentence supposed to pass a point? Was it meant for me? Was it contextual or was it hypothetical, she played it over and over again in her mind, she would play it again and again 2 days later in her mind this time tightly hugging her pillow and dismayed by what was unfolding before her eyes; what happened to civility, she wondered but only WhatsApp’s blue double ticks stared back, he had been online, he had seen and read her chat, a chat which was sent 2 days ago a scenario that was a stark contrast to just 48 hours ago….. “And that is very specific” he had muttered!

It’s pretty full in here, he had said when they found Java packed to the last seat, Savana should be okay now. Had he been looking at her legs, ass, hair or height when she took those naturally calculated steps away from Monrovia Street and through Koinange Street and into Moktar Daddah lane? Was he disappointed, euphoric, judgmental or just easy like Sunday morning? She wondered what was going through his mind.

Her mind was equally a bee house; he was taller than she expected, looked cultured, modern, certain, and something she couldn't place… that something was the deal breaker, if only she could put her hand on it….if only!

At what point did she lose him; were her figures not factual enough? Wasn't she well acquainted with what was going on around her? Did she over-read his palm? If only she knew but alas, she knew not!

Something about his tone, something about the finality in his voice, something about his composure, demeanor and grasp of things around him; something about his eyes that gave mixed emotions, something about his gaze something about his being something about what he chose to say, something about his personality something about his “honesty” something about something was shouting disconnect only it came in a soothing sound, playful sound, creeping sound, disarming sound but a final heart breaking sound, it came so unanticipated but it came nonetheless… and that was very specific!

You ain't coming in, she fumbled with the words, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to break the ice unsure of how to end the day....."mhhhhhh not today", he muttered, it was 2 seconds that played out like eternity, she watched him apply the parking break,shifted the gear stick in a "p" position, placed his right foot onto the break pedal, carefully and yet hurriedly she watched him insert the key into the ignition and just before it was fully seated inside the ignition switch, he muttered, "wwwe wwwill talk" talk almost came as a whisper, it sounded so strained that it almost pained her, her disarming smile stayed put only this time it was donning on her that it might not have been a well spent 4 hrs of her time, had he said this was an evening well spent? talk of reverse psychology, she felt conned...

Somehow he did seem to know what was going through her mind because he turned the key three clicks forward, the engine came to life, he released the parking break and sped off without much of a goodnight...

She remembered Chuck Audette's artistic yet deep words
a heart
black like my coffee
or clouded with cream
or sugary sweet
but not the one of my dreams

this mug is too chipped
or frail
or cracked
styrofoam? !
no thank you, something still lacked

EXTRA GRANDE
with cara-mel de-light
too big for my hand -
something ain't right

scalding hot
and bitter, too
or thinks it's all great
and hasn't a clue

overpriced
underfilled
weak or too strong
no matter the cause
there was still something wrong

I always found grounds
for a need to re-order
and I tried coffee shops
north and south of the border

But it's all been for naught
yet there's no need to grouse
for I've got a thought
I should try the tea house…

Online he remained,WhatsApp's blue double ticks stripped his innocence, her belief in humanity dimmed, what happened to integrity of words! She SPAT!