There is a cancerous tendency taking root in our society. When men take it upon themselves to be the moral policemen, Houston, we have a problem.
Men think that they are stripping women, but it is them stripping themselves of any decency and welcoming barbarism.
We have all witnessed the harrowing experiences that some women in Nairobi have had to endure courtesy of some men who only see women as sex objects.
The happenings that took place last week in downtown Nairobi, triggering the now famous protest march dubbed #MyDressMyChoice were unfortunate and uncalled for.
To add salt to injury, on the very day that the protesters, largely women and backed up by a few courageous men, took to the streets, another group turned up to disrupt the peaceful march.
You would have thought that having presented a petition to no less than the Chief Justice, the madness would quieten down. It did not.
In fact, it appeared to add fuel to the already simmering ‘battle of the sexes’. Unbelievable as it sounds, another poor soul was stripped, this time in Kayole.
The video sends shivers down one’s spine. To imagine that the lady could be your sister, cousin or a close loved one is quite disturbing.
There is a growing concern that if this is not met with full force of the law, there is a danger this barbaric behaviour could easily have a domino effect, and before we know it, our dear sisters would be on the receiving end from Malaba to Mombasa.
The day that women held that demo in Nairobi, Frao’s mother was coming from shags. They had planned with Frao that they meet up in downtown Nairobi, where Frao would pick her and drive her to his house.
As fate would have it Frao had rushed to the airport to pick some business associates and he got held up.
After realising that he would not make it, he quickly came to the conclusion that only Masikonde would help, after all I had previously met his mother at a family gathering that I only attended to get free alcohol.
So when Frao frantically called me, I could not let down the brother. I made my way downtown. As it turned out, that would be the least of my worries.
No sooner had I picked her than we found ourselves stuck in chaotic traffic and the resultant melee caused by the protest march.
It did not help matters that some of those women, in a daring move to drive their point home, had been quite economical with their clothes.
As I sat there trying to pretend that these were wildebeests and I was staring at the Mara River, she turned to me: “Masikonde, my child, what has Nairobi turned out to be? Is this the way people here nowadays dress?” she wondered loudly.
Ladies, you see, you spoilt a good demo with those antics. The message was lost in all the drama.
Trapped between a rock and a hard place, I figured out that they best was to try and explain to her what had caused all the hullabaloo.
“There are protesting about a woman who was stripped for allegedly dressing scantily,” I mumbled. “They did what? What had the poor child done to them?” she asked, as she tightened her Woman’s Guild head scarf. The long and the short of it is that I had the ‘longest’ drive to Langata.