“Because I am a woman, I must make unusual efforts to succeed. If I fail, no one will say, “She doesn’t have what it takes.” They will say, “Women don’t have what it takes.” – Claire Booth
There is a measure of truth, and a grain of paranoia in Claire Booth’s statement above.
True, times have changed, and women are at a better advantage than they have traditionally had. That is ignoring the lack of proper enlightenment, and empowerment that is born from young women not receiving the kind of emotional and psychological preparation they would need for the roles they must serve now. Evolving cultures and the change in family structures would be partly to blame for that. Even so, individual responsibility cannot be shirked.
With that in mind, we are proud to present the story of one young woman who is aware of her responsibility to raise her son to be a strong man, who respects women. Kathy’s Joy.
Still on strong women, the mzee article this week is written by Sarah Maureen Radoli. What doesn’t kill you…
The Book Review this week is of African Love Stories, an Anthology compiled and edited by Ama Ata Aidoo.
On Poetic Wednesday, we featured among others Dayan Masinde’s Win her heart.
And with that it is my pleasure to present this week’s Creekside Episode. This episode highlights the results of family breakdown because of political violence, HIV/AIDS and Poverty. As you read it, please be aware that these stories, though fictionalised are real and true.
360° (5) Merchants and Gifts
My name is Jennifer. I am twelve, but I already look like a little lady. That is what old Thompson always said. Bless his soul, he is dead now. He never wanted anything from me. Not something that I would not give out anyhow; unlike the other men. No, seriously. He bought me a white frilly dress once, out of a whim, and then sent me away with a kiss on my cheek. Only a kiss on the cheek. Can you imagine that? Of course, I came back the next day.
I am glad that I am light. In primary school back in Kisumu they called me pointy and other badder names. But now, the customers at the Coast like my skin tone. They will rather chat with me than with the black ones. “Navy blue”, that is how my pal Njoroge calls the lakesiders. I laugh with him, and we find it funny, because they are not really blue. But it sounds so English, like a club blazer with golden buttons.
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