I’m really into my feelings today, and I remember that a few years ago, a pen and paper were the only tools I knew how to use to express my emotions. And today is one of those days when my body craves sweet things because the sweet tooth my mother gave me when I was born has refused to disappear, even after many years of waiting for me to outgrow it. Nothing has happened. Sweet things like chocolate, when my emotions are all over the place, bring comfort and the sweet joys of sugar. Today, as I sit in the office, I find myself thinking about my feelings and how Iam doing. I get an answer I don’t like, so writing this down in my diary feels like a good way to express myself and how I’m feeling today.
How are you? This question is most often asked to check on someone, but it is also often part of greetings and small talk conversations. So today, when I was in a meeting, a colleague asked me, it was obvious to say I am well and with my insides crying (menstruation) and ripping my reproductive system off, I am surviving. If I were to consciously reflect on the question of how I am today and so far this week, I would say that I am hurt, furious, angry, and feel like crying. When I reflect on the events that make me feel this way, it is the numerous negative occurrences in Kenya.
I went to visit the Maskan exhibition on femicide done by Usikimye and Creative Garage on the day of the opening, and boy, did I cry my heart out. Curated by Thayu, the exhibition confronts the reality in Kenya, where too many homes have become crime scenes. We all know that femicide cases are way too high (we marched in the streets on 27 January 2024 on 27th and still femicide has not been declared a national epidemic/disaster), and every day we hear of another case. The other day, as reported by Usikimye, an eleven-month-old girl was raped by her father. We saw how Kenyans cried as a blogger was killed by the police and increasingly, police brutality is at high rates as of late.
When I listen to and watch the news, it’s terrible, and I can say that I detach from these happenings, but oh dear, this is impossible. I live in a society that has decided that girls’, infants and women’s lives do not matter and that it is okay to rape, maim or kill them with no consequences and accountability. A society and government that do not care about human life, and the police are above the law. Living in such a society with everyday inequalities and oppressions, it is challenging to say that you are okay and are happy if we have police who are above the law, a government that squanders public resources, and the health sector and education being left with no funds. Government officials are travelling to the United States of America to give birth safely, while others embark on daily long trips to the only clinic in their rural area to give birth and hope to go home safe with their children in their arms . How can I be happy?
As a Kenyan citizen who is law-abiding, pays taxes and knows that my government will never protect me and can kill me anytime, it is a sad reality that my government does not care about my education and does not care about my health because we are now past accepting lies that the Social Health Authority (SHA) (government health scheme) works; it does not. So I am angry, furious and exhausted with this government and men. Men kill and rape women and girls. That is a fact. So we should stop saying ‘not all men’ or ‘it’s an accident’ and now maybe accept the fact that men, killers and rapists will not be held accountable in a country where the police are above the law and are getting away with murder. In this case, we all, just like me, need to ask ourselves tough questions about what we should do to ensure not only the safety of women and girls but also that of all people in Kenya. It means that we all need to start the action phase, where we stop keeping silent when an injustice happens. Because keeping silent means you are on the side of the perpetrator, it means you are also the murderer, killer, rapist and the flawed government. So no, I am not okay. And I will not pretend to be. But maybe, just maybe, if we each stop pretending and start speaking, start acting, we can tear down this violence, this silence, this system that is killing us. And build something worthy of our rage, our grief, our love.
So if you see me around and ask me, “How are you?” please know that behind “I’m well” is a universe of pain, rage, and refusal to go numb. And this diary? It’s my way of surviving and not forgetting, and when you read this, I hope you are also reminded and get to survive just like I am doing.
Yours Truly,
Wambui
Unfiltered 