When Womanhood becomes a Battlefield and a Crime

by Joyce Wachau Chege

Yesterday was June 25. It was just a few hours ago, I keep telling myself, over and over and over again. In the bus on my way to work, I watch as life goes by, as if nothing had happened. By the time I alight, two work bags well balanced on my shoulders, I take out my umbrella to shield myself from the drizzling that is gaining momentum into a full-blown rain. I stand there for a moment, with a heavy heart. I stand there as the wind blows heavily, and I still cannot imagine I am going to work after yesterday. Cars pass by, honking as usual, as conductors shout, drivers cursing at each other. People walk by heading to work as if it’s business as usual, and I feel my heart sink. It feels surreal and unfair. I can feel the tears balancing in my eyes and I hold more firmly to my umbrella. I can feel sweat running down my armpits despite the cold morning weather.

I cross the road feeling weary and cautious of my surroundings. Was it a crime being born a woman? Why does it have to be the same story every time? People came out in large numbers for the demonstrations. People fighting for a better country, for a safer country. So why does it have to be that when the night fell and people were trying to get home, amidst gunshots, air heavy with teargas, unable to breathe well, noses running, sneezes, why is it that goons had to grab and drag women from motorbikes that were trying to get them to safety; drag them, beat them up and rape them? Why? You survive being run over, robbed, gunshots, beating from police, only for in the last minute, to get violated sexually.

Not so long ago, we were on the streets, marching and demonstrating due to the rise in number of femicide cases. How low have we sunk as a country that rape is being used as a weapon to decentralize women? Is that the price we have to pay for freedom? Bad governance, looters sexual assaults, murderers, rapists, police brutality, how much can we as we women take? The trauma is so big and I don’t think one comes back from that. Churches turning people away, instead of offering them shelter? They care not about morality, just profit.

Women leaders remain silent. Which takes me back to another question, in whose hands are we safe? I don’t want to be young, investing my productive years fighting a rogue regime. I want a country where I am safe. I want a country where I can walk without having to look over my shoulder. A country where they do not wage war against women. This fighting makes me anxious and helpless. The anger is immeasurable. And the intimidation is way too palpable. I feel defeated. I feel like I am just surviving, not living, like life was intended for. I weep for all the women. For the courage they have to hold to come out to demonstrate, only to be violated. I weep for all the women who are questioning the worthiness of life.

Why do we have to fight so hard just because we are women? Why do we have to demand that are accorded common decency? Why do we have to shout and be out on the streets just so that we can be heard? Why does the system abhor us and make us feel so little like we don’t even matter? I don’t think this is how I have pictured being a woman, truth be told. The scales never tip in our favor, not then, and definitely not now.

And I hate it more that I am now sitting at my desk, staring absent mindedly and listening to the rain falling; my colleagues walking in and I just stare at my screen, my employer waiting for a report for work done yesterday during the demonstrations, and I feel livid.

So, what next? And how does it all end?