BOOK REVIEW: Unbowed, A Memoir by Wangari Maathai
Ever since I was a young girl, the single motivation for women in my wider circle rang with a single two vowel name, Wangari. I knew then that this woman was the one who stopped the grabbing of Uhuru Park, who was beaten at Karura Forest and who was so well read and outspoken, that the Establishment of the time saw fit to call her names in public and humiliate her to no end. I knew she was my preferred woman candidate in 1997. At that time when I, like other Kenyans was inundated by the usual mudslinging and dirty politicking that is so prevalent in Kenya, she ran on a Green platform pledging then as she does now, to commit to preserving resources and good governance.
I was overjoyed when she won her prize in 2004 for her over 30 years’ work with the Greenbelt Movement. As an admirer and budding activist I attended her lecture this past Monday at the University of Pennsylvania’s Green City Symposium organised by UPenn’s Institute for Urban Research. There, for the first time, I heard her speak and I gained a better perspective of the issues that challenged her early on to fight for the better use of resources as a tool for democracy and good governance. I also picked up a copy of her book ‘Unbowed’. I was wowed!
Professor Wangari Muta Maathai’s name is mentioned in the same breath as Mahatma Gandhi and other luminaries as a pillar of change for her generation. In her book she outlines her upbringing in Central Kenya, and her experiences within an environment where people, by tradition revered and cared for the environment. Her education was supported by her family in an era where few women reached high school level and of those who did, a handful went on to professions other than teaching and clerking. However, her dream to study something else together with her top performance put her in line to receive a scholarship with the Kennedy Airlift, prompted in part by the late Tom Mboya. Sadly, she returned to a Kenya where already fuel shortage was becoming a problem and water catchment areas were drying up.This state of affairs was to give impetus to her later activism.
Her studies in the US followed by her return home may ring a bell with women in the sciences who still do not get enough respect for their academic achievements. She returned home to meet and marry her husband, with whom she later separates. She categorises this time in her life under ‘Difficult Years’. She went from her relatively stable life to that of a single broke mother and recalls being unable to buy her kids even a plate of chips. I grew up knowing that chips on an outing was something to be had, however, I digress.Many women have reached the point where they are the sole breadwinners for their homes. Wangari is no exception to the rule, especially as she chronicles the stigma she experienced as a divorced woman in Kenya of the late 70s and 80s. Our society is still so unforgiving.
The book outlines a few key roles that women in the public in Kenya have played over the last few decades as powerful political figures. Naturally, those who remember the National Council of Women of Kenya and the Maendeleo Ya Wanawake triumphs and debacles will refresh their memories. Wangari stood by her husband as he ran for Parliament in the 70s and her own political debut in the late 80s. The contrasts in campaigns illustrate why then as now, Kenya is still not ready to accept women leaders in official capacities.
No story about Wangari Maathai is complete without a mention of the brutality she was dealt by the government to the point of hiding and the injuries she sustained whose scars she bears to date. There is a story that sits in the background of her description, that is, that of her children who saw all that their mother underwent while dealing with her occassional absences as a result. I salute them.
Anyone who knows me well knows that I could go on and on about Wangari Maathai. The better advice for you, dear reader is to order your own copy of Unbowed. In a world where we shy away from reading about other people, her memoir is a portrait of a Kenyan we can tell, ‘Well lived, Aluta Continua’ and truly emulate. A few years ago we had a segment in the local TV stations that said, “So-And-So, A truly great Kenyan. She is one truly great Kenyan.
For me, I say to Dr Maathai what the women said to her, “Wangari, you shall never walk alone, and (my own words) your example shall never be forgotten”
SHU
I cannot believe that I have blogged this long without mentioning this electric man called Shu.
From about a year ago, when I first hear his songs from a friend’s collection I have been enthralled by the talent of this man. He is brilliant, in school and in the music academy called Life. I applaud his efforts to take the music world by storm in an environment that is ascetic to ‘outsiders’ and hard to penetrate.
Undoubtedly, he is mentioned in the same vein as John Legend( Shu has worked with Dave Tozer, who produced some tracks from the maiden first album for the then unknown Legend) In my books he is OKAY!! What What!
Never underestimate a man like Shu. He has endeared himself to his fans by being available to answer to emails and always keep us updated on his shows and reviews. As we would say, “Huyu jamaa ni wetu”
My personal medal to Shu would have the following citation
‘ For living every parents dream and pursuing music with education, and not only writing good songs, but giving enervating performances both at home, Kenya, and abroad; For entertaining and energising young and old alike; For showing us more than just talent but successful initiative; We award you, Shu this award as a token of appreciation for all you have done and all you have continued to do’
Here is his latest review just in case you are wondering how recently this guy appeared.
(Top Photo By Nicole Sweet, also available at www.shusic.com)
My Short Skirt
My short skirt adorned my full figure today. And did they stare, yes! Young, old, bold, male, female,sophisticated, opinionated, intoxicated, and educated.Some stared, some looked, and others buried themselves in a book. One said, ” You look cute” and the other said “You’ll bring out the brute”. I cast caution to the wind, i didn’t care. It was, after all, my day. I was the -it.
I remember seeing pictures of the 60s and 70s in Kenya when women would wear skirts and dresses as long as the span of their arms, and the fact that they would go to Ramogi to take pictures proudly baring those thighs in adoration of fashion and in celebration of life. I was very happy to see those pictures so I could defend my own choice to sport minis and micros. When you reached a certain age you wore the maxi,but if you were not married, and at your prime, you rocked that mini.By the 90s however, that was a memory relegated to auntie’s album in the very back of the closet.
It is October 2006, and my short skirt has no place in time, not here and especially not now. On two occassions when I have worn skirts up to mid thigh, they have attracted the unwanted. Let me define unwanted. I want the compliments but I don’t want the lecherous comments. I want to have a free walk, but i don’t want to show off my legs to those who pity my size. I always see either a jealous stare or a pity patter of eyelids. By the way, I cannot make either happy. Those who want more of a view want me to have less thigh, and those who want me to have more thigh spit on me if I show more. I want to sit by you and talk, you and you and you. BUT, Take your hands away from any bare skin I show, and respect all the women whose skin you see. It is not a slice of meat, but a peek of them.
But back to the short skirt. My short skirt has no place in America. It is another symbol of how perverse this new generation of young black women appears, according to some. To others, it is un-African( I go back to those Ramogi B/W snaps). When will this madness end? It will end when people go back to wearing short skirts on the streets of Nairobi. Needless to say, my short skirt has no business in my suitcase when I return home. It shall be welcome in my casket before they inter my bruised body. that is what you get for walking in Nairobi mini-skirted( read, naked)
So when in Nairobi, I will don my short skirt sometimes, just to remember that there was a time when one did not have to hide the everything to be defined as someone in society.Women will return to the era of the mini when they stop being robbed and raped and sat on and pinched and pulled to pieces. When the bus and the buck stops here - and when those pledges to protect women become real, I will stop wearing my short skirt. for now, I will wear it with all the pride in me, in solidarity with the women at home who cannot, for insecurity, for fear and just because so-and-so said that you cannot wear it as such.
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