Pass the Torch

Tonight one of my clients was talking to me about doing great things or wishing that she would do great things like I do. I was taken aback by this comment. There is no one who does any great thing without the help of so many others. It seems to me that if you seek greatness for greatness sake you have lost your way. It is by passing the torch to the next generation that creates greatness, not shining it on oneself. There is nothing about what I do in Kenya that isn’t on the shoulders of so many incredible people. It’s easy to stand at the top, but a lot harder to hold the person up. So I am grateful for all the amazing people who volunteer countless hours to help with a website, to run a fundraiser, to design posters, to keep the books, to write the notes, and to keep me on my toes. I hope if you’re reading this you all know whom you are.

The client and I continued our musings about women here in the U.S. She is with a group examining the issues of violence, safety and trust with women. My mind took me back, immediately to this post that I have been putting off.

I have been tardy in this latest post. I suspect it has to do with the grim truth of what it can mean to be a woman in Africa. I read in the Kenyan papers last week that the army is moving into Meru and the women are fleeing for fear of rape.

I have become somewhat inured to the violence in Sierra Leone, Sudan, The Congo, but somehow I missed something because I didn’t think it would happen in my beloved Kenya. They’re not at war with anyone right now, the troops are going in to ferret out guns left by the mungiki, but, alas, it seems that no woman in Africa is safe around an army. Furthermore that probably goes for the police as well.

I am preparing to return to Kenya soon. My heart skips a beat when I think of getting back there. I miss Monica and Francis and Miriam. I want to smell the rain and hear it crash on the tin roofs. I want to hear the children chanting and laughing and whispering “muzungu”. And in all this time I have only been afraid a couple of times. Somehow I think it is true God takes care of fools and children. I would be the former.

Yet, it has occurred to me that without a couple of friends I have made I am the same as any African woman. The safety I feel when I walk the streets of Boston or nod to a cop standing on the street, I don’t feel over there. And surely I know not to go out at night. But I can leave and they can’t. I can’t imagine what that must be like and that makes me sad.

I write tonight for women all over the world. I pray for girls who have no home, fear rape, beatings, and loneliness. I think of millions of mothers who wonder what they will feed their children, and even if their children will make it home safely. I hope as we begin this new decade that we make space for safety and trust for women and girls. And that one day women and girls will be able to walk down any street in any city with her head held high and her heart unafraid.

Keep the faith y’all.

From the Nation 12/24

Women and girls flee region as swoop on illegal weapons starts

Three weeks ago, Defence minister Yussuf Haji warned security officers against using excessive force to disarm residents.

Mr Haji urged the officers to uphold human rights and carry out the disarmament with a human face.

On his part, Livestock Development minister Mohammed Kuti urged the government to establish a complaints office to track the activities of the officers who will carry out the operation.

But Mr Kamitu, who is drawn from the GSU, said that the operation will be safe and called on locals to cooperate with the officers.

He urged the residents to immediately report any cases of torture or rape to him or to the DC’s office to allow for timely action to be taken against the culprits.

The operation commander also warned residents against resisting police search, saying that this may lead to the use of force.

“If you engage the officers in fire exchange or develop some resistance, they will use force to conduct the operation,” he warned.