Feminism, the enemy within and the courage of a generation

Feminism, the enemy within and the courage of a generation

Feminist this, feminist that, femi -knee-st this, Femi-Nazi this, Tw-eminist that! Thats how a typical day starts and ends on my social media timeline. All sides, all genders and all creeds. The fight has become polarizing to the point that one cannot imagine it once was a joke because they will be called gender-shaming, misogynistic or patriarchal or worse. And the fights are happening even amongst the women too.

I have often wondered how the old feminists did it? How did they get through it? Or did they never get through? How can we fight for something for so long and have made such little gains on it? Therefore, I surmise that at the heart of this movement is a key piece that keeps acting as a saboteur to this whole mission.

Male patriarchy (which among hard core feminists is the heart of all darkness and dwelling place of Zerubbabel himself) has been described as men keeping women suppressed through cultural customs and norms to deliberately create inequality and oppression. In more cultural settings you see mention of breast ironing, female genital mutilation and labia elongation. These crude customs of yester-year have been parked at the doorstep of all men to bear full responsibility for. But, one quickly learns that men alone – even if they wanted to whole heartedly – cannot repeal these customs.

For example, breast ironing was started to flatten breasts of girls entering puberty so they wouldn’t be preyed upon by older men – by their mothers. This was so they could still be virgins when they were married off in a society that valued virginity but that would not punish men for defiling small girls and would rather punish them that speak truth to power.

In the case of labia elongation, the working theory it is that the practice is meant to make women “sweeter” for men because the labia gives extra sensation during sex. Cases where husbands return brides so their mothers so show them the “the bush” are not unheard of. “The bush” is the euphemistic term for girls entering puberty when they begin the labia elongation practice. This practice is enforced strongly by maternal aunties and mothers in order not to bring shame upon the family once marriage time comes.

The more gruesome FGM varies across different tribes but basically involves the carving out of part of or all of a girl’s labia and clitoris. This was ostensibly to prevent girls (who undergo this process on the cusp of puberty) from being errant wives. Its brutally enforced by societal structures and a ruthless shaming system

When I was in the Sebei region on the last #KoiKoiEast trip a few weeks ago, we sat around a fire and a man told us of a culture that praises courage and bravery. He said if your mother ever flinched at her circumcision (which they are working with government to eliminate for girls now by the way) everyone who disagrees with you would always refer to you as the “The one whose mother ran away” and these tags are hard to escape. Like millstones around one’s neck beckoning shame and derision from society. They stay. They hurt. They cut deep.

In all these cases, mothers, aunties and female figures in society play a central role in enforcement and adherence to these norms.

And that is where I get confused.

If we are fighting the men in our generation, are we not self-sabotaging? If a young man within your generation (those of you date cross generationally can stop skip ahead) says to you “I think my wife should wash my boxers” and you stand up bash him or a young woman your age says “I want a man to marry me, provide for me and in return I will raise his children and build our home” and they get railroaded out of town. You aren’t solving the problem. That’s their paradigm. That’s the construct in which they see their world.

But who framed that world? Who told them that these things were acceptable? That women should give up careers and sit at home and that they can’t be everything they ever should? It’s not the boy child who grew up alongside them chasing butterflies and eating mangoes.

And that’s why we must have the courage…

The courage to confront our parents about the things they haven’t done right by us in terms of educating us (not school fees, fool!). The absence of fear when taking down with belief systems, constructs, practices that contradict what we know to be logical truths must be palpable.

And that is both for everyone


Because only by facing our parents (the entire generation) who are bastions of sanctity and are revered can we truly begin to make a difference. We can’t be in a society where you were born in a polygamous family, you have never discussed that with your parents but you are out here calling all men trash. Or you are the child of a concubine, but you go around spreading misogynistic vitriol. You are only playing yourself child.

That’s why it takes courage…

It going to take courage for us to tell our parents that we are gay. That our friends are gay. That we work with gay people. That we share food with them. That we know them. That some of them struggle with it. That we work for them. That they have funny jokes. That they are people. Someone’s son and daughter. That others will never overcome their fear. And that others will never come out because they don’t have the courage.

It’s going to take courage to tell parents that forcing their children to live at home until they get married means they won’t understand the responsibility of living on their own, making decisions, independence, planning, adulthood, looking after their partners. It produces poor husbands and wives. Young people are facing these things in their marriages and their relationships. We need to talk about it.

It’s going to take courage for us to ask our parents who work in government to stop blaming everyone else and ask them what they did to stop the country from going to shit. What did they ever do to keep things on course? To reason with them when they say “we did it for you” and not be relenting in our quest to understand what our own role will be for our children.

It’s going to take courage to have conversations about having sex for favours. For jobs. For cars. For houses. For food. For gadgets. With men and with women. When our mothers did this for security, society respected them as kept women – church or no church; ring or no ring. But the men are different now and everyone fights for theirs. The conversations on men sleeping with women for money, access, property and rent? And men sleeping with other men to take care of their wives? How much courage will that take?

It’s going to take courage to bring up and challenge the tribalism, myopia and archaic attitudes parents get stuck in. Things like “we don’t marry those people” or “You would rather not marry” or “If you marry her I will not attend” must stop being heard as threats to people trying to form unions that are propagating the future. They must be taken down with boldness and furor.

It’s going to take courage to tell our parents that getting married and all the previously accepted forms of social validations will not be our portion. That some women do not want a husband or kids or to settle down. That some want to adopt children instead of having their own. That some men will just not be husbands. Those conversations take courage because they require us facing constructs we have known for a long time. But we must find it.

It is my hope that our generation finds the courage to face our parents and confront their demons because only then can we face our peers in honesty and good spirit. Only then can we stand and share with each other the sweat and tears it will take to rebuild this country after these old people are done phucking it up.

Or we could just give up and emigrate to another country and let it be someone else’ problem? The Chinese are coming here, expatriates come here and never want to leave, multinationals are coming over, oil companies are setting up. They already messed up their homes. If we leave, there’ll be no one to fight for this ugly red-dust pearl of Africa.

So, we stand and fight. As a generation. Men. Women. Gay. Straight. Religious. Atheist. African. Mixed. Light skin. Dark skin. Thicke. Small. Chubby.


But first, how to find that courage… to


#CougarHunterKla; A Quick Guide Around an Ageing Landscape

I went out a few nights ago to see what the town had become like in the long time I had been away. I was curious as to whether the nature of the cougar had changed not just in purpose by also in form. What I saw interested me. The layout of the land, the features, both the predators and the prey had all changed. The game has changed and it will never be the same again. Ever.
In purpose means that even though previously the cougar hunted to feed a basic deep-seated pathological need for control or a base human desire for physical contact and copulation, the current nature of the cougar has morphed in to a veiled, stealthy search for human connection. To reach out and touch another human being and not feel the dirt-related emotion of guilt often brought on by the exchange of gifts, money, or other incentives. There are emotions involved, feelings getting entangled, and dangerous liaisons.
The cougar now looks not for the sick, weak and dying prey; but the young, agile, and ambitious. My deduction is that this feeds their fixation with eternal youth, the search for relevance in a world that is fast changing, and the psychological need for re-assurance that age isn’t anything but a number. This is the new form I talked about above. The form has changed.
And the truth is that with this new form the game has taken the cougar hunter (or the hunted) must adapt. The oxymoronic nature of cougar hunting is perhaps one of its greatest attributes because the actual hunter (cougar) always plays the hunted while the hunted (cougar hunter) gains recourse and validation from playing the hunter. It’s no longer about how you look but what you know,;no longer about what you don’t have but what you aspire to; no longer about where you are from but how you connect with people. There is no place for insecurity and needy-ness. Well-rounded, balanced, mature, driven, energetic and empathetic is now in vogue.
Why? Because as the cougar hunter your duties now extend much further afield than any of your predecessors. You are the silent adviser, the ruthless guardian, the keeper of secrets, or simply a rake. You do not deliver command performances because you can but because they are required.
But above all, when it’s all done I guess the cougar hunter has his own brokenness which he feeds by doing what he does. Whatever pathology exists, it must never interfere with the job at hand. Never bribe you with ambition to go too far, or fast. Never deceive you with the notion of performance excellence. For in a game that sits subtly on the edge of egotism and self-gratification the perfect player must have no ego or satisfaction. He is after all the Van Helsing of cougars.
 Below are what I think are some guidelines on how to navigate the new landscape:
1. Be simple and straight forward
2. Don’t talk about shit you don’t know. Stick with the topics you are flawless at. #ExceptFootball
3. Unlearn everything you think you know. Experience fucks with people, twists them, and sheers their perspectives of the world. You must be objective and receptive. Listen, internalize, understand, and shut up. You must #LearnWithoutPrejudging
4. Do not disclose unnecessary information. Answer what you are asked. Stay away from your life story. People have sadder, grittier tales than you think you have. #SaveItForSomeoneWhoCares
5. Be prepared to walk away from it without any signs of clinginess. The hunter who displays the least sign of creating collateral damage when it’s over will always get picked because he isn’t as big a risk. Clingy=Needy=CougarRepellant
6. Do you. Music, Movies, Food, Conversation, Friends. They are probably doing them too. These things allow you to have personality, character, a soul. Not a mimic. They allow you to have opinions, points of view and arguments. But they are also key to your veneer of normalcy. #NoOneWantsACreepEspCougars
7. Be bad. Not spoilt, just bad. The kind of guy they’ll tell their friends and nieces never to date. This only makes you more of a #GuiltyPleasure
8. When hunting, do not over dress, overuse cologne, over do anything. Too much effort indicates an insecurity which will be prized out before long and then you’ll have no allure. Seeming comfortable in your skin makes you an emotional face in the crowd #OrdinaryJoesHavePotentialToSurprise
9. Always wear clean underwear. Cougars are clean. They hate dirt near their pussies. UTIs, VD and all that shit they don’t need. Also, it says you are mentally not as dirty as the things you do to them.  #CleanYourBusiness #NoUti #LeaveToliletSeatsDown
 10. No matter what it looks like. You are not out till you are out. #ClosersAreBetterThanGentlemen
#BonusRule The following morning; call. Always call. Don’t Text, Call. If you break your leg, Call. If the grim reaper is standing at your door, Call.  Call. Call. #InsecutiesThatMustBeCurbed


I was going about my weekend when a track started playing incessantly in my head. It brought an idea: every man has a soundtrack in his head when he is taking his woman. It may be an obscure, poor quality scratched CD version but somewhere you have your lashing soundtrack; the one that plays when you lash your woman.
I also got to thinking about when I didn’t have a soundtrack how it went. It was alright. However every time I had a soundtrack it had been a more than stellar performance. You gotta think about it. Certain music makes you a god.
There are things that make the music die, like bad head, like smelly armpits, like grime on the neck… there are other things but I will let you fill in the blanks. I found it frustrating every single time my music went out. It gave me that sense that a guy gets when a woman accidentally flicks her tongue around his crack – fear and instant blood flow to the muscles to feed the sudden adrenaline rush in preparation for flight. The problem with that is that it gives you a flaccid dead fish right in the middle of a nice hot romp (NOT COOL).
I also found that my soundtracks even though auditory were photo chromic. They were affected by light. For enduring performance, light had to be largely dimmed and ambience enhanced. I thought I was getting insecure about what I looked like or what my woman (or women, whatever) looked like. Then I set up a control which involved doing it in the daytime with the curtains drawn and with the curtains open. The latter proved to be almost impossible (damn the landlord’s dog!). Dim works for me.
Knowing this, I then delved into the investigation of what I really thought was my soundtrack. I particularly like Klaus Badelt’s soundtrack to “Pirates of the Caribbean” even though I found it a bit fast to lash your woman to. Then my mind moved over to another track that’s actually an old favourite – Ekikere kirikumbaata (the frog is mounting the duck) which is a nursery rhyme of questionable repute ; too funny but unfortunately not applicable as well.
As the search for the soundtrack continued, I remembered that one time I heard a long piping tune, from somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind. Brandy’s “Come a little bit closer” called out to me and whispered to me like a siren only to get closer and find the mind had tricked me and was actually playing Julianna or Grace Nakimera (this especially sucks because Grace Nakimera has no Wikipedia page) or some such local Ugandan diva music. Eeewww!
I have arrived at my conclusions for this lesson:
  1. The soundtrack is defined at certain critical points when definitive sexual and sensual moments are afoot. Women, ensure your man knows your soundtrack.
  2. Some will how do I do this? Well, when you guys are getting freaky, play it off the stereo or your phone, in the post-coital afterglow (while he naps), make sure eth songs you like are on repeat, that way it subconsciously seeps into his mind. He will never feel right humping another woman with that music on. It short circuits his cheating mechanism.
  3. Assuming this is hogwash is the kind of foolishness is what will get your guy getting freaky to any type of trash music because he has no soundtrack. Listen. Get a freaking soundtrack.
  4. My advice is don’t play it off the radio especially Capital FM because of all the bubble gum music they play. You don’t want the guy stuck on Alex Ndawula’s or Jimmy Jones’ soundtrack (both of whom have no Wikipedia pages). You’re trying to improve the bastard, not main his psyche for life.
  5. Invest in a quality, distinctive, unique soundtrack. Remember that soundtracks are a series of songs often with a similar theme and a strong undercurrent that should be able to deliver the same feeling every time. So one song will just not do. Buy a memory card, an iPod, a stereo or start eating bananas to sharpen your voice. You need at least a whole album.
  6. Whenever people tell you “that’s the song we danced to the first time we met”. They are lying. Curse them to hell because really what they are saying is that it was the song they first “did the deed” to.
  7. This is a warning to all player boys out there – stay away from other people’s soundtracks. It may seem smooth to be soulless by being able to relate to some random guy’s soundtrack while you do his woman. But it isn’t. These days you hear girls talking about how “shallow guys are”. It’s because of you twats. You guys give us a bad name. You have to be able to enter a woman’s universe and she can feel how palpable your soundtrack is. All of a sudden the music in her life seems to have twang of you in it. Hence when you are gone, so is your music, your soundtrack and your essence. Even though you remain in her subconscious (*snigger snigger*)
  8. Movie soundtracks are cool, you know Hans Zimmer on Megamind but you don’t want to mess with Gladiator, The Dark Knight or even Inception; the darkness might be too much. I just recently graduated from the Mission Impossible soundtrack because it wasn’t working – face it, no one will let you hump them to Tom Cruise’s pattering feet. Feel free to experiment with a variety mix but I would generally steer clear of entire movie soundtracks. Sit down and compile something that’s you.
  9. Even though when we are growing up we are inevitably exposed to our parent’s music and influences, you should, as you grow, strive to veer away from this acidic leverage. Or else you end up…
Well let’s just say it won’t end well.
My thoughts end here.
Have a nice week.
Orbis non Sufficit

What do you do when you have two women in your bed?

Then there was the scenario when an ex girlfriend of mine sent me a text on one of those Bubbles’ quiz nights. She asked where I was. I said I was at Bubbles. She asked if she could come. I said she could. When she texted me in an hour from that time, I said I was heading home. She asked again if she could join. Somehow in my mind I thought she was asking about whether to come to Bubbles. I said yes. This should have been fine except there was already someone at home waiting for me; which is how it got so dramatic.

I get home hug the bowl as I wretch, and go off to sleep. Imagine what I was like when I woke up a couple of hours later to find that the wench who was waiting for me at home and the ex with an axe were seated on the bed asking me to explain what they were both doing in my house.

In that moment I realized that everyman dreads this moment. You live your whole life dreading it. In the post mortem of the situation my best friend then said to me something that I had never understood before:

“Every man dreads it but deep down, deep where no none but he only can see, he wishes it happens to him so he can say “it happened to me and I lived it down”.

In the heat of the moment, though, you never understand how that moment will define you. So I started debating the choice on who to demonize and who to save.  Damn the ex, she would be easily expendable. She was the ex after all. And for causing this drama, she deserved it anyway. Or damn the new girl. She knew nothing of this whole drama and her search for answers was met with consternation and derision from the ex. I then had a “Prince-of-Persia” moment where my body almost shifted out of itself and assessed the situation.  Which is how I came to one of those king Solomon-esque ideas.

Damn them both.

So I opened my mouth and what happened next I don’t remember but all I remember was it went something like they both needed to leave my house. I didn’t give a shit and I needed to sleep. My alcohol-addled brain seemed to comply with the request to deliver terse, curt and abrupt life lessons. I then dozed off and woke up at midday the following day.

Both were gone.

Frankly I actually thought it was going to get physical and I was worried whether in a moment of drunkenness a man could ever justify an inexcusable action. When it didn’t, I learnt these lessons:

1. The reason why the greatest lovers are stone cold sober is because they cannot afford to have situations they can’t control happening to them.

2. When in doubt about choices, walk away. Everything is dispensable – so is everyone.

3. Never EVER fool yourself that you know what it feels like to be in that situation until you have been in it. And if you have been, wear your badge with pride.

 4. If I didn’t work in the industry in which I work, my phone would religiously go off at 12:00. That way I would be unaccountable for all goings on after this time. But mine doesn’t, so here is a word of advice, don’t ever pick calls from your ex after midnight. It’s a trap. It’s always a trap.

5. As I found out, sometimes your ex doesn’t even want to have sex with you, she just wants to make your life miserable and assuage their insecurities. In The 48 laws of Power Robert Greene says in law 40 “Despise the free lunch”. Master this law. Never forget it. If it’s cheap, ignore it. If it’s free, run.

After all that drama everything else seems to pale in importance.  But I would be foolish if I did not tell you about this new girl. She is wonderful. Nice MILF with great character. I was thinking I will tell her a story with some spiel about what I have been through, my life story yada yada. She will probably buy the story and before I know it, we will be prancing around town in search of the next best thing. You would think I would want more out of life, wouldn’t you, but quite frankly I don’t.

And that is all I have to say about that…


Orbis non Sufficit