WHY ALWAYS AN AFRICAN GIRL CHILD? by Imelda Simaloi  (This Essay has been slightly edited.)

In the world there is a continent called Africa.  Although it’s the second biggest continent, it is full of all kinds of primitivity. I’m referring to the past traditional culture that still exist in some communities.

First and foremost to the African girls that must undergo all sorts of problems.  Discriminated by the idea they can never be good leaders. I don’t think there is any good reason why that belief still exists, but indeed, it is only one of the man challenges girls have to face during their lifetime.

I want to be clear that there is something called female genital mutilation (FGM).  This is one example of discrimination.  Why? It just causes pain and loss but does no good at all.  Remember, girls were created by God.  They were give a purpose to be leaders.  What men can do, women can do it better.  Also recall that we’re moving from an analogue age to a digital age and these old practices should not be brought in.

I am speaking specifically to the many communities in Kenya that need to adapt to the new culture and vision known as vision 2030.  I want to prove that women undergo many experiences on this planet and I want to congratulate women for surviving the many indignities they have had to suffer.

I want women to have a chance to lead the nation for I think we will make good leaders.  As you know, the tears of women are very powerful.

Bravo!  Bravo! to the government that has tried to improve the health and education of a girl child, leading us out of being invisible and becoming known by many.

by Selmpu Parnai  (This story has been slightly edited.)

There was once a young boy called Nyausi.  This boy lived with his grandparents since he lost his mother.  He was too young to look after his grandmother properly.  His father also decided to get married to another co-wife.  When Nyausi’s step-mother came to the village, everyone was excited, but the people also had pity for the young boy.

His grandmother never gave up to look after the boy.  After a couple of years, Nyausi  became brave enough to look after his grandmother’s flock of sheep.  The family was pleased with him since he was disciplined.  He also helped his grandmother fetch water and helped her with other daily work.

His loving father became excited by how the boy was growing in responsibility and wished to have his only son live with him.  His grandmother throbbed with fear and almost went bananas.  She wanted her grandson to stay with her and before an egg could rot, she called the clan elders and asked them to settle the problem.  Since the son belonged to the father, he would have to live with him, but the grandmother’s efforts should be appreciated.  Nyausi’s father was told to bring her two black goats, two red hens and a yellow cow.

After some days, Nyausi’s father brought what he was told.  He found Nyausi’s grandmother seated, but he was not able to see his son.  He had run away because he knew he was to be taken out of his grandparents house.

It was not long when Nyausi’s father returned in full combat and told him and his grandmother they will have to prepare for a journey tomorrow.  Nyausi became happy at the thought of the adventure and did all the work for his grandmother.  After the sun set they had packed the clothes that were in good condition and went to bed.

At the crack of dawn, they set off on the journey.  When they arrived at his father’s home, the step-mother welcomed them with warm hands, but as soon as the grandmother left, she locked Nyausi in a room.  He screamed and his step-mother became irritated, giving him a hot blow on his chubby cheeks. He stopped screaming, knowing there was nothing he could do.

His father took him to school so that he would be educated since he had reached the age when children should go to school.  Every day after school he found no food was left by his step-mother.

“Stop crying and go fetch water before you receive another hot blow,” his stepmother ordered.  He had to put up with the situation because whenever he reported it to his father, his father said he could do nothing.

The step-mother complained, making much noise about the boy, saying he did nothing and has increased their problems.  Whenever meat was served, Nyausi could not even taste it.  He lived a miserable life that in the end, caused him to kill himself.

All was gone and when the family migrated to Uganda, the step-mother felt deep sorrow and committed suicide.

DAY SEVENTEEN

All I can do today is sleep for I feel so poorly.    Emanuel came to visit me last night and asked if I wanted to take the plane out with Dan and Linda the next day and go back to Nairobi to heal.  I’m tempted, for I feel so terribly ill, but I didn’t want to miss  sharing time with this lovely family and working in the school with the children.

The journey back is laden with holes and puddles for it has rained.  The car skids and slips over mud as if we were driving on ice.  We ride by men pushing bikes with wood piled higher than their heads and women carrying jugs of water.  Sacks of bananas line the road of small villages and people shout at us as we pass.  When we hit a paved road Emmanuel tells me that the Chinese built it.  “We trust the Chinese more than Kenyans to get the work done without corruption and pay-offs.”   All too quickly the paved road ends and we hit dirt again for most of the way home.

I feel lonely with Dan and Linda gone.  I had come to depend on them as a link to the world outside of Africa.  You seem to form a trust quickly here, as an outsider and I enjoyed sharing impressions and things I marveled at with them.   I’m glad when  Larousi curls up and falls asleep on my lap.

I was quickly drenched as I ran from the latrine to my hut.  I lay with damp hair against my sleeping bag and feel the blackness of the night weigh on my like a heavy blanket of Ugali, the wet, jelly like wheat paste that is eaten like bread.   Grateful for the small window where I see the faint outline of a mountain, I think about lighting one of the small candles I brought with me.  I count them out.  I don’t have enough to last the whole time, but decide I need the comfort of the small flame tonight for the hut has only a bed and small wooden chair.  I take a pill that Dan, whose father is a doctor, gave me for my fever and I pass the night in bouts of sleep, waking with alertness at every unfamiliar sound, fearing animals that may be prowling nearby.