This archive report was first published on 8 November 2019.
As I settled into my favorite spot on the sofa, surrounded by the comforts of Lagavulin and nuts, my phone rang, breaking the peaceful midnight atmosphere. It was my 16-year-old daughter, checking in on me, as she often does, to ensure I'm not getting into any trouble.
Her concern was endearing, but also a reminder of the changing times and the need for quality time with our children. As parents of teenagers know, it's often the parents who need quality time, not the other way around.
But I digress. My daughter's call was a welcome interruption to my evening of watching American TV on YouTube, where I'm obsessed with the likes of Trump and CNN's S.E. Cupp. I find myself drawn to the drama and intrigue of the Trump story, which is, to say the least, unsettling.
As I reflected on my homeland, I couldn't help but think of the strong women who inhabit it. Women like my aunties and elder sisters, who are not to be trifled with. They are iron-willed and bred to lead the homestead, and I have no doubt that my future sons-in-law will have their work cut out for them.
My recent visit to Nanyuki, where I stopped off to buy meat, was a reminder of the strength and resilience of women in my homeland. I witnessed a butcher punishing one of his workers, not for being lazy or incompetent, but for serving soup with a crust of fat floating on it. The butcher's politeness was more frightening than any yelling, and it was a stark reminder of the respect and deference that women are accorded in my culture.
As I looked out at the magical landscape, with its clean azure sky, green rolling hills, and blue-tinted mountains, I felt a deep sense of connection to my homeland and its people. This is a place where women are strong, and men are firm, and I feel grateful to have experienced it.
