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by Joseph
Simiyu Wegesa
copyright, 1999
Nanjala stood outside
her father's shop and watched as children played in the dust on the worn
path that was the main street dividing the Wabukhonyi market in two.
On either side of the street were little shops, restaurants and bars that
provided services for neighbouring residents. Some of the shops were
new concrete buildings whose owners were trying to modernize the small
market. Others were wood and mud temporary dwellings with corrugated iron
roofs.
Nanjala leaned against one of the concrete pillars and slightly moved against it to scratch an itch on her back. She was bored standing out there waiting for a customer to come in. She wished she had brought a book out with her but the sun was bright and it hurt her eyes to read. A man went by on a bicycle loaded with sacks of maize. He was sweating right through a tattered brown shirt. The worn bicycle struggled and creaked noisily as though it were on its last breath. The tires were covered with puncture repairs and the mud guards were crooked. It still served its purpose so the owner continued using it. One thing her people knew was resourcefulness. Nothing was wasted. Almost everything was instantly recycled. She went back into the shop.
Nanjala was sixteen, tall, light-skinned and pretty. The boys hated her because she did not want to go out with them. She spent most of her time reading books. When not reading, she would be admonishing the boys for their sexist behaviour. They thought she was strange. Even her own family thought she was a bit strange. Here was a sixteen year-old who should be out dating but instead led an anti-social lifestyle brooding with her books.
Nanjala was fed up with country living and the small market with the same people coming in the shop buying their sugar and flour and telling her how pretty she was and how she would make a good wife for their sons. To them she was only a potential housewife; a child-bearing machine who could also cook and clean house. That is all a woman meant to these narrow-minded neighbours of hers. She hated that. Women around the world were making incredible leaps by entering fields once dominated by men. Women like Golda Meir and Indira Ghandhi had ruled nations. Imagine that; a woman actually running a country. That fascinated Nanjala.
She looked at most of the women around her. They had little or no education at all. All they did was stay home and bear children as though they were only half human. Their husbands treated them like property and abused them every which way. She had sworn she would never turn into one of them even if it meant being a single woman all her life. Unless a man treated her as an equal, she was not getting married.
Nanjala understood sexism.
She knew that it was the worst kind of prejudice because most people thought
it was natural that women should be treated differently than men. Women
were offered careers that were deemed feminine. They were paid considerably
less than men and were sexually harassed by their male counterparts.
Mrs. Wasike walked
into the shop. Nanjala already knew what she wanted. Every
Saturday she would come in for three loaves of bread, five kilograms of
sugar, curry powder, margarine, cooking oil and five pounds of wheat flour.
You are stuck in a rut Mrs. Wasike, Nanjala thought. And there is
no help for you. Nanjala picked out the commodities as Mrs. Wasike
complimented her on her looks and manners.
"Jacob talks about you all the time, Nanjala. You would make a wonderful wife for him, you know." Mrs. Wasike said as her ten year old son and thirteen year old daughter helped her with the groceries. She was forty years old and in good shape. She had to be with all her housewife duties.
"I am still very young, Mrs. Wasike. Right now all I can think of is finishing school and going to college. Then I have to find a career that suits m," Nanjala spoke politely. Of all the things that she wanted to be, wife did not even make it at the end of the list.
"God wants you to be a wife, child. It is never too early to get married. I was married at fifteen. The teens are your best child bearing years." Mrs. Wasike said.
"Times have changed, ma’am. Women have changed their priorities. I can make up my own mind without worrying about my parents, potential in-laws or God. It’s my life, my prerogative. If I choose never to get married, I will live happily without guilt." Nanjala said.
"You need to stop having those bad thoughts, child." Mrs. Wasike said as she hastily exited the shop.
Mrs. Wasike's arrival seemed to signal an influx of customers who started to mill into the shop. Most of them were mothers like Mrs. Wasike doing their weekly shopping. Others were children sent to do the shopping for their parents. Jacob, Mrs. Wasike's son that she had spoken about came by dressed in smart, freshly pressed clothes. He was a handsome boy about a year older than Nanjala whom a lot of girls admired. He only wanted Nanjala.
"How are you doing, Malaika?" He called her, Malaika which is angel because he thought she was as pretty as an angel.
"I'm fine thank you. How about you?" Nanjala may not want to date but she was not stupid enough to turn down a complement.
"I would do better if I wasn't so heart-broken," he said.
"If you really loved me you would wait until I was ready, Jacob," she told him.
"Ready for what, Malaika?" He asked surprised. "I only want your permission to let me take walks with you, to give you gifts and reveal to you my deepest secrets. I only want to hold your precious hands and stare into your beautiful eyes."
Nanjala stared into his eyes. She had big dreamy eyes that affected him deeply. He could not stare too long into them without stirring feelings within him. She knew her eyes had an effect on him so she used it against him. He had to turn away.
"You can't handle my eyes can you?" She asked with a smile.
"Your beauty overcomes me, my dear angel," he said avoiding her eyes.
"Come back when you're not so overcome," she said. "By the way, you look very smart today."
"Thank you. You, of course always look gorgeous." He knew she liked him. She was just giving him a hard time. Playing hard to get. That is all it was. A game. This was the woman he was going to marry. She may not say yes now but she would later. He knew it. Nanjala watched him walk out of the store and admired his behind and the way he walked. She felt good that she had this power over him. Maybe someday she would go out with him. Maybe someday she would teach him how to be an open-minded, reasonable, loving man who could see her more than some child-bearing, housekeeping, sex machine.
Wanjiku came into the store about half an hour before closing time. Wanjiku was Nanjala's best friend. They went to school together and both believed in getting out of this simple lifestyle and doing something meaningful with their lives. Wanjiku wore pretty braids in her hair. She had on a T-shirt and pants. The pants were a shock to her parents who wanted her to dress in a feminine way. Nanjala had several pairs of pants herself. This was their way of saying they can adopt masculine ways too. It showed that they were ready to enter the man's world.
"How's business?" Wanjiku asked.
"It really picked up towards the end. Otherwise it's been very slow. Your hair looks nice." Nanjala said.
"Thank you. My mother did it for me. You know how she likes to experiment. I love her for that. She encourages me to follow my dreams unlike my father who only thinks of educating a little bit more so I can bring in a bigger dowry."
"Can you believe that mess?" Nanjala asked. "We are to be sold like cattle or a bottle of Fanta. What are these, the middle ages?"
"My sister was sold for two hundred thousand shillings and ten head of cattle and she did not even go to college. That's what my father says. He wants me to get a bachelor's degree so I can bring in over half a million shillings." Wanjiku sad.
"It's preposterous. We're commodities. Our mothers keep popping us out and our fathers sell us to the highest bidders. It's worse than slavery. I'm never going to be sold. Are you going to allow yourself to be sold Wanjiku?"
"I highly doubt it. I'm going to try to get out of the country. Maybe I'll go to England or America. I want to live in a society where this barbaric custom does not exist." Wanjiku said thoughtfully. She was staring at an advertisement which had a woman wearing a T-shirt that read, 'Empower Yourself With Education'.
"That's what I want to do too. I was thinking America. I would like to go study there because there are a lot of changes happening there that are empowering women like that T-shirt says. But I want to come back after my education and do something for my fellow sisters here. Things have to change around here and it's up to open-minded people like you and me to do it. A lot of young women are only interested in finding a wealthy man to marry so they can be taken care of. That is an insult to me." Nanjala said as she totaled up the day's sales.
"Let's work on it, okay. One more year and we can try to go for it. Do you think your parents will want you to go?" Wanjiku asked.
"If I insist long enough they will give in. What about yours?"
"I'm sure I can convince my father that getting a foreign education will increase my dowry by a hundred percent," Wanjiku spoke confidently. "That will make him let me go. On the other hand, I have different ideas on what to do when I return. One thing I'm certain about is that I will learn all there is to know about business because I want to come back and open up a major company which will employ a lot of women to do jobs only men thought they could do. When I get married, I'm not going to be sold. No man is going to own me."
Nanjala closed up the store and the two of them who were neighbours and did not live far walked home together. It was no wonder that the two of them were friends. They both believed in being strong women who would be in control of both their professional and personal lives.
At home, Nanjala's mother and younger sister were setting up the table for supper. Her father was in the living room reading the day's paper. She went in and gave him the cash and receipts. He looked at them and grunted meaning they were not so good. Nanjala shrugged and went to her room. She could not control business. If people did not want to come into the shop she could not force them. She did the best she could. She looked for a book to read after supper. This was the time when most teenagers went for walks to meet members of the opposite sex. Nanjala, who thought this was a frivolous ritual, spent her time buried in a novel or a political science text.
"What was the day like?" her mother asked as they sat down to eat.
"It was pretty boring most of the time. Jacob came by and talked to me," she answered looking at her father.
"He's a good boy. Comes from a good family," her father said looking up.
"I'm not interested. All you want is the dowry money anyway. You don't care if he's good to me or not," Nanjala countered. She enjoyed arguments with her father.
"That's not true. If he abuses you, I will break his leg. Why do you want to go against tradition? Dowry has been there since the beginning of time. It was done in the biblical times. We're not doing anything wrong."
"Nothing wrong?" Nanjala asked. "How would you like to be sold?"
"Dowry is not selling. It's a sign of bonding of the two families," her father explained.
"Bonding? Sex is enough bonding."
"Nanjala. I will not tolerate such language at the dinner table," her mother said glancing at Nanjala's sister.
"See what happens when women are oppressed. They cannot even express themselves. My own mother cannot talk to me about sex because she thinks it is something forbidden. How are women going to rise above being slaves to their husbands when they cannot express themselves."
"I am not a slave to your father, Nanjala. Your father is a very kind and understanding man," Her mother said.
"Has he ever cooked a meal, cleaned up the house or done laundry? And have you ever held a job since you were married? I don't think so. There is no equality in this house."
"Enough, Nanjala," her father spoke sternly. "You're upsetting your mother. We cannot suddenly change or mix roles that have been set for ages. You are reading too much and some of that stuff is poisoning your mind. There is nothing wrong with a woman being a mother and housewife. It is a natural occupation for her."
"Motherhood is not an occupation, father," Nanjala interrupted. Her father took a deep breath and placed his fork down on the plate.
"You're lucky I'm a kind and understanding man like your sweet mother stated. Otherwise I would slap you silly for talking back to me. Don't you have any respect for your elders, child?" he asked.
"Argument is healthy in a family relationship. Self expression is important in raising a child who wants to be a leader. I'm not going to be one of those passive women whose husbands keep locked up at home while they go out to run the world. I am going to be out there running the world. If you expect me to run around looking for a rich man to marry so you can buy a new car from the dowry, you sowed the wrong seed," Nanjala said staring straight at her father. "No man is going to own me."
"You are going to run the world? A little unknown girl from the country is going to run the world? You fantasize too much my daughter," Her mother said.
"See. That's the kind of attitude that has kept you in the house," Nanjala said. "I am going to rise above belittling myself and my fellow sisters. I have never thought that men are better than women in anything. Anything a man can do I can do better. I believe it and it is true. I am not going to be tied down by gender prejudice. I am as human as any man and deserve the same chances given to men."
"I've known a lot of hard headed people but my daughter beats them all," her father said. "Nanjala, why don't you be a girl like other girls your age. Why do you have to fight all the time? Why are you fighting against nature. God gave you a female body and you should accept it as such."
"God is sexist," Nanjala
began before her mother threw her hands in the air.
"I give up," her mother
said. "I'm going to the kitchen to make tea. My daughter has
finally lost her mind."
"Go on." Nanjala's father urged her as his wife and younger daughter left the dining room.
"Can't you see that the Bible was written from a man's point of view? Everything is a man shall do this, a man shall not do that. Women were considered property and breeding utensils. Nothing further. That is one of the major problems befalling us women. The Bible states that a woman was made from the rib of a man to be the man's companion not his equal. It's like we owe it to the man to guide us and tell us what to do. Why is that? Why didn't God make Eve from the soil just like He did Adam? Why was Eve an afterthought, second hand? Because God just might be sexist."
"Are you good in debate?" Her father finally asked.
"I'm the best, you know that. Nobody can touch me. I think I get it from you. You also let me practice on you a lot. But I believe in what I say. This little girl of yours is going to be a woman of dignified presence. I am going to be a leader and no man can stop
"I think anyone would have a hard time trying to stop you. I am not even going to try to stop you. I will be very proud of anything that you do. I may try to talk about the traditional female role but deep inside I want you to be more than that. I want you to explore the alternate possibilities. There is nothing wrong with change or people trying new things. That is what makes us what we are. Humans are always evolving and we cannot fight the changes. Changes are what makes this a better world for everybody. I am very proud of you, Nanjala. Who wouldn't? You're a straight A student with high hopes of accomplishing feats that many don't even imagine of. You are a good girl."
"Thanks Dad. Now, if you can excuse me, I want to take a little walk."
"Go ahead. Be careful out there, it's almost dark."
"I will." She said and cleared part of the table, took the dishes to the kitchen then left.
She walked over to Jacob's house. He was sitting out in the yard with some friends listening to music on the boom box. She beckoned to him and he rushed over
"Hi, this is a surprise." He said.
"A good one I hope." She said looking him over.
"A very good one."
"Well, I thought over what you said and I accept the offer of taking a walk and maybe holding hands. What do you think?" She asked staring into his eyes.
"Y... Yes, please. Let's go." He was trembling. He had wanted this for a long time and now he could not even move. He waved goodbye to his friends, took her hand and began to walk down the road.
"This is a big step for me. I have chosen you because I think you are an intelligent, reasonable human being who can understand the demands of a liberated woman. Maybe you don't understand that right now but I do want to teach you how to deal with a strong woman such as I."
"Maybe what you are is what attracts me to you, Nanjala." Jacob said. "I like a strong woman and I'm for all that women's liberation stuff. There is no reason to oppress anyone who has the ability to improve our country. It doesn't matter whether they are male or female. I believe in my country and I want us young people to grow up and live a better life than our parents. If we cannot think of ways to make things better right now, we won't make it. I have listened to you in debate and I am very proud of you. You have great ideas. You are well-read and are intelligent beyond your years.".
"I'm impressed. I thought all you wanted was to get into my pants but it seems I was wrong. You strike me as someone who thinks of me as an equal. I like that. I know what I want, Jacob. I have a definite goal and I will work my whole life towards that goal. The goal is to vastly improve the state of women's affairs in this country. I have dreams where women are not sold, where young girls do not undergo genital mutilation that risks their lives in the name of traditions, where men cannot abuse women daily and it's looked upon as the norm, where women can enter any profession they desire and get paid as much as their male counterparts do."
"I would say you have your work cut out for you."
"I know. I'm not one to balk at pressure." Nanjala spoke with emphasis. "I can handle it. It will take me many years and the help of many people but I will accomplish it. You know me. I don't lose. I know there are changes already and some really wonderful women have done a great deal. This makes it easier for me. I will follow in their footsteps as well as create a few of my own. You sit there and wait for someone else to fight your battles for you and you are doomed. If you see something broken, fix it yourself, that's my motto. If you can't fix it ask for help but please get it fixed."
They had stopped at a crossways. They leaned on fence poles.
"You are so grown up you frighten me at times." Jacob revealed.
"Sometimes I frighten myself, Jacob. But fear is sometimes your friend. It helps you face and overcome obstacles. We are entering a new era where we need to look beyond our personal needs and think of the needs of others. Someday my dreams will come true."
They stood there leaning against the poles watching the sun slowly sink in the west. Nanjala softly squeezed his hand and smiled. He smiled back and stared into her eyes without flinching. There, she thought. I knew I could mold you into a perfect mate.
She tugged him lightly and they both headed back to their respective homes. To Nanjala, this was a step forward. The beginning of her fight to change men's ways.
