There is much alot vent about this year but I choose to mention this shocking percentage of child sex traders at our Coast. I ascertain that I am neither a child nor an entrepreneur in the sexual category of the working class.
It once happened that this goon approached me and my girl at a public beach in Mombasa, innocently inciting us to ‘assist’ some ’stranded’ tourists who were in dire need for some young and vibrant energetic girls like us. He saw us fit for that job description thus offering us this ‘once in a life’ time offer. If words were beatings then that clown got a through spanking from us.
However, after a little pillow reflection, I tried to figure whether we might have by chance provoked that man’s wildest thoughts. My apparel was decent in every sense of the word to my Bishop, Mother or even the staunchest of nuns. I was decent. I failed to untangle the mystery string until…
I learn that their exists laws against two categories of women; Those who SEEM to be and those who DEFINITELY ARE. I happen to fall under the first category hence a non-stop victim. Blame it on my choice of apparel or because I am such a black Kenyan woman who sometimes goes against the norm of walking unaccompanied to the quiet beaches.
Many of such have recurred, white old men ogling lustfully or even blatantly approaching to make offers, Kenyan mid aged men pulling over roadsides just by the sight to offer ‘rides’. As a result, the police have posted warnings against women loitering at the beaches. This 30% ideology has left the 70% of us vulnerable of such debased suspicions.
After all, they ask “How is it that a black Kenyan girl would afford a drink at a get away five star hotel? Please. “And what business would a black girl have at a five star resort, unaccompanied and is neither a waitress, bartender or cleaners?(Unless of course you are Naomi Campbell on a Malindi vacation). Otherwise, the assumption is given.
I am going back home, in Mombasa district, where my heart is and most of clothes are aware of the prejudice that awaits. That to me is like a homecoming- not feeling at home in your own home, that to me is a true African’s girl story.
My role in this remains: To keep snapping at any watchman or police who dares to question my very freedom of movement…
Have a forgiving Chrismas, y’all who feel me.
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