“The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them - words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they're brought out. But it's more than that, isn't it?"
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
Thursday, July 2, 2015
Lost In Neglect
Something I've always wanted to say, but just didn't know how. I've
always felt overwhelmed when trying to put my thoughts on this issue. A
Whatsapp conversation this morning was inspiring enough for me to go digging,
and found something quite close to what I've always wanted to say.
Here goes...
"A lot has been done to give the girl child her voice. Groups and
activists come together with many projects that are all about helping the girl
child unshackle the chains keeping her down. But the boy child has been left
behind. While the girl child is enjoying her freedom and coming out of her
shell, the boy is fighting to be treated better. The female gender is considered to be the weaker sex. We are thought to
lag behind in most things. In every field, a man is considered superior so that
qualifying standards are lowered so we can fit in. Our issues are given more
prominence since its assumed men can handle their issues.
I believe a girl is more likely to open up if overwhelmed by huddles. On
the other hand, a boy mostly bottles up every bit of anguish or pain. He has
been brought up to not show weakness, most cultures believe a man keeps his
issues to himself. Should he come out and talk about it, his peers will call
him weak, he will be told to deal with it on his own, that only women cry and
expect to be helped. The sad truth for their silent agony is because very few
listen. Rather than be shunned for speaking out, he will "man up"
and secretly deal with it.
The fact that society seems more focused on the girl child is rapidly
suffocating the male child. He is just as vulnerable as the girl child. Due to
society's underestimation of the boy's needs, they are now being subjected to
various tormenting acts. He is prone to sexual assault and suffering as any
other child. For solace, they are turning to vices. They need to find a way to
fend for themselves or to deal with their issues. Narcotics and alcohol abuse
as well as crime seem to the way for them to do this. It is the place they can
find consolation. Society sees this but brushes it off as "boys will be
boys" when girls are found in such situations, activists come out guns
blazing saying its because they have been ignored. They defend the girls and
seek help for them. The boys are left to go back to their old ways. This needs
to stop.
Intervention is crucial before our young male generation gets devoured.
A child is a child. It should be remembered that no gender is more superior or
stronger. Girls have been the weaker sex for ages, but as they get stronger we
must remember to also care for the bo. It is wrong to empower one sex at the
expense of another. Don't let the boy child succumb to destitution. He is just
as vulnerable as the girl child." - Lulu Akaki
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| Sourced from the National HIV Programs Report (2014) |
Last week, at another meeting to discuss findings of the recently
completed Multiple Indicator Cluster Survey, there was a lengthy discussion on
the girl child. How we can improve programming for improved health outcomes for
young girls. How we need to reach “the transmitters” – the old men having sex
with young girls and infecting them in the process. How through the Voluntary
Medical Male Circumcision programme we have been able to provide protection for
the young boys and there’s nothing similar to cover the young girls. I have
never, not even once, heard it asked in any forum; “Who transmits HIV to the
young boys?” Is it not a critical question worth asking, especially in light of
what the available data is saying? For young girls, the question is always
asked, and much of the responses are centred around culture (the abuse thereof)
and intergenerational sex – the abuse of young girls by older men.
The general consensus is, the boy child is well-covered. They are strong
enough to fend for themselves, the vulnerabilities are not the same. We choose
not to examine the evidence and just go with the flow. Run with what the donor
community identifies as critical.
But shall we not live to regret?
Friday, May 22, 2015
The Language of Tears
Tis often
said, "You don't know what you have until it's gone," meaning we
usually take for granted the very things that deserve our gratitude the most.
As I sit here, alone, listening to songs that remind me of you, sad you're
gone, but glad we departed from the norm a countless number of times, showing
gratitude for the roles we've played in each other's lives over the years.
Never shy to say, "Thank You for being my friend." And those were the last words shared
between us, a few hours before I was told you'd been admitted with food
poisoning being the prime suspect.
A huge part of me is still stuck in that time, refusing to
catch up with events that have been since then. Struggling to process how
someone can move from writing, with that cheeky smile I imagined,
"Uyahlanya mfana wami" - when I threatened to find me a new friend
because you'd left the country without letting me know - to that state I saw
you in on that hospital bed in such a short time?! Perhaps, the answer is LIFE
IS FRAGILE.
Eternally grateful I will be to have had you contribute to my
life in the most positive of ways. Glad to have been on the same team as you,
trying to improve lives through #LendAHand. Knowing you'd be there each time I
needed someone to be. Because of you, I know what true friendship is. I know
the joy and comfort of knowing you have someone you can call late at night for
them to go pick your brother from school and drop him home because you're still
out having fun courtesy of your youth.
There's no
getting used to this part of life, with each death awaking in our hearts the
longing for permanence. In Paul's letter to the Philippines he wrote, "I
am hard-pressed between the two; my desire to depart and be with Christ, for
that is better. But to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your
account." Fight, you did to remain in the flesh on our account. You knew
there's still a lot of lives in need of your gentle caring hand even though the
strain your body had taken dictated departing would be far better. You wished
to serve, and you did. Selfishly, we wish you were still alive. But we do know you’re
in a far better space than what life had confined you in the last couple of
months. I find solace in that.
This is probably the most incoherent thing I've ever written,
and you'd probably tell me that much too. Too soon to make sense of anything,
and I'm in no rush to forget about you so I'll definitely make it right at some
point.
I'm a mess right now. Truth is, you've been gone for months,
but reports of improvements in your condition gave us hope we'd soon ask,
almost rhetorically, "Awusuye yini?" after you'd asked what was
always meant to be a rhetorical question as well; "Yini ngatsi nicabanga
kutsi ngingugogo wenu?" Tears fill my eyes, but they refuse to fall.
Probably because you'd laugh at me if you saw them. Then say you're not
laughing at me, you're laughing at the tears, trying to dodge a slap to the
back of your head. So I'll let them hang there until they're brave enough to
fall. Would really love to talk to God this one time, but words fail me. I find
comfort, however, in knowing He understands the language of tears. You taught
me that much.
Phumula Mntolo. Mphotholozi. Me, I'll just sit here and
listen to songs that remind me of you and your infectious smile.
*Originally posted on my facebook page on Saturday, 16 May 2015
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