By Standard Reporter
It’s a crying shame that the only woman who would have sent the crowd that turned up to witness the swearing in of President Uhuru Kenyatta into a delirium chose not to turn up.
Had immediate former First Lady Mama Lucy Kibaki honoured us with her presence, the cheering would have brought down the rafters. Kenyans love Mama Lucy; in much the same way a child hungers for a mother’s affection. Especially if nightfall approaches and Mama is yet to return from the marketplace with the ripe bananas she promised toto. So we were stuck with heavyset men. In fact, the few women who turned up came as observers. And when they accompanied their husbands, their role was to smile and look pretty.
Come to think of it. Even with our brand new Constitution, only one woman spoke during a three-hour ceremony to install our new leader. And that’s only because the Constitution decreed that Gladys Boss Sholei, as Chief Registrar of the High Court, had to boss it.
The other women sat mute beside their husbands. Either that or they sang and danced to entertain the men. Even those in the stands were drowned out by noisy men blowing vuvuzelas and cheering their teams (oops! leaders).
You didn’t see women driving the big men’s limousines or providing security, suggesting that the elite Recce Company of the GSU is considered ‘too tough’ for women.
You didn’t see women commanding the military parade. They were not bedecked in military uniform on the VIP dais, apart from County Commissioners that governors are dying to get rid of.
They did not give speeches. Most notably, among the Heads of State who turned up, none was a woman. Of course, the First Lady and Mrs Rachel Ruto joined their husbands at the inauguration arena, but their roles were auxiliary — to hold the Bible while the men did the manly thing: Chewing oaths.
Amusingly, when all the presidents elected to take a group photo at State House, some bright spark shepherded the First Ladies to the back — away from sight.
SEEN
Women are generally shorter than men, so we didn’t see them; suggesting the big men didn’t want their women seen, leave alone heard.
Not surprisingly, when newspapers published photographs of the women leaders who turned up, the cameras seemed trained on the clothes the women wore to the bash.
All this would be okay except for one thing: The world was mourning the demise of former British Premier Margaret Thatcher, hailed as Britain’s greatest post-war Prime Minister.
It’s hardly surprising that 23 years after Mrs Thatcher’s retirement, Africa’s women, even those who are highly educated, must be seen, and not heard.
