Lifestyle and Health


Kenyan men should learn the art of silence. Someone needs to teach you the meaning of the old adage, speech is silver, and silence is golden. You, brothers always accuse women of talking too much. You do what Jesus said; see a speck in another’s eye while you have a log. Women talk to other women, silently, I have no problem with the kind of talking that women do, my problem is with men. Men seated by the roadside are the worst gossipers. They wake up early, leave their pregnant wives fetching water and go to the roadsides. Some go to wash cars, others to look for menial jobs, other to sell sweets and groundnuts, others to just pass time before lunch so that they can go back to their houses for the afternoon fill. These men are ill mannered, and their talk is stupid. They make themselves political analysts, economists, Google maps and marriage advisors. I don’t mind them talking of politics, something they have no understanding about. My main issue is their big mouths, and the way they feel like they should throw words at the females passing in the roads.
First they call you like chicken. Whether you look at them or not, you are doomed. If you look at them, one or two of them will wink at you. You are supposed to wink back. Of course you can’t win back because you are sane. They don’t take being assumed so easily. Girls with nice buttocks will be called matako, matatu ya wengi, Malaya, one of them will ask you; who was riding you last night? Now you are a woman and this is Kenya. Our parents advise that we should never answer them back, they are men, they are stronger, and the weak you should only walk away. Abuses sting, kwanza those that are accompanied with loud satirical laughs. You will start wishing for a smaller ass, and buttocks that don’t dance as you walk if this happens to you twice. I happen to have a chest that protrudes before me as I walk. Sometimes my breasts swing this way and that way, especially when I am in a hurry. I should never feel ashamed. I never asked for a larger bosom, I got it for the benefit of my babies (and my husband maybe). These men who sit by the roadside don’t understand. They think I should look up when they call me like a chicken. They believe I should smile at them, and nod to their stupidity. I don’t, so you see, they call me a cow that has just delivered; one asked me umenyonywa Na wangapi? (I am not a prostitute and these stings like salt on a raw wound). Others like telling me to hold them, they are going to fall. Men, in groups are more stupid than a pack of rowdy school kids; they are as foolish as sheep. Their mouths are so rotten, every word they utter stinks. They look where they should not look and complain, they talk when they should be silent. They fool each other into stripping poor girls and forcing their rotten stinking selves into women, and then they run. How do you live knowing you have de flowered someone’s daughter? How do you call yourself a father of a girl while you don’t have even a morsel of respect to girls? Is your will power that little that you cannot control your erections? Does your brain work every time or are you a psychiatric patient roaming the earth loose while you should be locked off in a mental institution under drugs?
I have no problem with men. My father is a man, I love him. My brothers are men, my grandfather was a man. Most men are good. But some men are a disgrace to the male gender. They are so unmanly that they find it pleasurable hurling abuses at young girls who are their daughters’ age mates and others who are old to be their mothers. They never weigh anything, never sieve their words, and never stop to think of their effects. They just talk like they are having verbal diarrhea. They only abuse women, they never dare any men. My question is, to which planet do they want us to shift beautiful women to? Someone can’t be brown and in peace; they say umejibleach ( kutoa tint)when you refuse to listen to their nonsense. If you are dark they call you a sack of charcoal, and if you are between dark and brown they say umekosa rangi. A woman can’t rock an afro and walk in peace, they will call you manywele if you are strong enough to hold your peace and walk away from nonsense.
Why, men why? Touts pull at women in bus stops, never men. Professors fail female students for refusing to sleep with them. Even chokoras prefer disturbing women than men. Being a woman in this country is too much work. It is emotionally draining. It is unrewarding. I am just tired of being guilty because of my breasts. I am tired of being too careful. One day I will slap a man and kick his balls so hard. He will never forget me because his balls will rotate. He will get a slap and fall asleep instantly, only to wake up hours later without testicles. He will permanently remember to respect women, where he came from, but before I do that, tell them. Tell these men who sit in groups to grow up, but if growing up is too much to ask for, then tell them to mind their own business. Tell them to talk their nonsense with each other, tell them to keep their voices low, tell them to shun from abusing hardworking citizens. Tell them to stop drowning in foolishness of the masses. A group never dies unless there is an earthquake. One day a single man will be caught. He will serve as an example alone. Be warned idle citizens.

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Doreen Saringi

Hey there, welcome. I am Dr. Oyunge. Books are my second love and writing is my third. Once I take off my white coat, I pick my pen.

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So true, i can identify with you.

I also love your sense of humour


thanks dear

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