A dose of empathy is all that our leaders need

ODM leader Raila Odinga during a luncheon for the disadvantaged children at PCEA Kangoya Child Development Centre in Kiambu County. [Courtesy]

I was at a pub last week waiting for a friend. He was late and I was refreshing my social media pages obsessively, y’know, instead of twiddling my thumbs. Shortly, a waitress came by. She was a slip of a thing, not very tall, and enviously slender.

She was also pregnant. If I had to guess, I would say she was probably about seven or eight months along, and she couldn’t have been more than 25.

I asked her if they had a wine list. She said no but assured me that there was nothing they didn’t serve. To prove it she reeled off a long list of this, that, and the other thing, with one hand cupped protectively around the bottom of her belly, and the other one on her chin, her eyes turned thoughtfully to the ceiling.

In the end, I ordered a tonic water on ice.

So, off she went to get the order, one careful step at a time. I watched her walk to the other side of the pub, hips swaying stiffly from one side to the other, like many pregnant women do, and I empathised. It had just gone 9 o’clock in the PM, and here she was on her feet, serving strangers.

A few minutes later she approached my table empty handed with a wry smile on her face. 

“Ati ulisema unataka soda water, ama Tonic?”

“Tonic, mama,” I said, chuckling just a little bit. When I was pregnant, my brain was on sleep mode too. I would have forgotten my name if it wasn’t printed on my ID card. I understood this woman completely.

So, back she went with her swaying gait to fetch the Tonic.

A few moments later, she was back with it in hand.

“What about the ice?” I asked. This time my eyes were twinkling with mirth. Hers were too.

“Aki nimesahau, madam!”

We both laughed this time. It was that kind of laugh between two people who’ve been in the same shoes. I remember every stage of my pregnancy. The first three months of morning, noon, and night sickness. Second trimester when I felt like I was walking on sunshine (the calm before the storm). And the last three when I was basically a huge house on two legs.

I worked in a newsroom for most of those months, and while it was nothing like being a night waitress in a busy pub, it wasn’t a best case scenario either. Folks take it for granted – because women are expected to reproduce–but carrying a baby for nine months is no joke, leave alone giving birth to one. It’s quite a production, and it usually requires a strong supporting cast, and a whole lot of grit.

A pregnant woman’s first and only priority is the baby she’s carrying. With that in mind, you can imagine the level of maturity and focus it takes to serve people in an establishment where many of them are drunk and others enroute to disorderly.

Like I say, I empathised with her. I could do that because I know exactly where that shoe pinches. I could relate with her struggle. And I was touched by it. When my friend arrived, she served him too, and we left soon after.

I didn’t have any cash on me so I sent her a tip on M-Pesa. Later she called and thanked me. Again, I understood. I saw her and she saw me–two women acknowledging what womanhood can look like in its various guises.

Missing link

Which brings me to my niece, Taaka, and her empathy theory. She’s examining how the ability to understand and share the feelings of others can lead to best leadership practice. Because when you think about how we are governed, there’s obviously a missing link. Something is not computing.

Yes, it could be a combination of factors from a colonial hangover to pure, unbridled greed, but at the heart of it, it is the absence of empathy. These fellas in leadership positions cannot relate to the plight of the ordinary wo(man).

Some of them were born with silver spoons in their mouths, and others have been desensitised by the heady caress of new money. Either way, neither can empathise because neither can relate.

This is something we all suffer from. It is difficult to understand what others are going through if you haven’t experienced it. Worse still, if power and privilege mean that you don’t have to.

Regardless, it is essential that we build our empathy muscle. That is the only way that we can pursue universal goals like food security, affordable housing, manufacturing, and affordable healthcare for all.

Ms Masiga is Peace and Security Editor, The Conversation Africa