Last week we highlighted an upset African travelling companion. Innocently walking and minding his business he was told off by ladies showing parts of their bodies. He declares he finds London annoying; he wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for endless corruption and conflicts back home.
As I listened, I wondered if such loss of morals was merely in Uzunguni. I scrolled through Tik Tok. Heard a Tanzanian Presidential candidate (NCCR Mageuzi), roaring: “These days you switch on the TV. You cannot sit and watch a film with your mother anymore. If you can afford it… you have to purchase two TV sets, one for your mother and another in your own room… there are no morals.”
If a presidential candidate in Africa is complaining about lack of acceptable behaviour in Africa too, then something has shifted in our world. Besides family breakdown, lines have been crossed; simmering hostility reigns between opposite genders.
A week later I was still reflecting on this as I joined London’s Carnival. For those who are not familiar with Carnival (which deserves its own article) – it is a celebration of humanity through mixed forms of art. Origins of this word are from the Christian celebration after a 40 day fasting around Easter time (Lent), with no meat, sugars, alcohol, permitted. Carnival stems from two Latin words “carne” (meat) and “vale” (allowed, OK, alright). Meat or partying is then “allowed” at the end.
You might compare that occasion to Eid El Fitr for Muslims. Modern Carnival (with a different meaning) has since metamorphosed into a global event particularly famous in Brazil and Trinidad. London’s Nottinghill Carnival, celebrated annually, for two days, end of August is the biggest in Europe.
So I was in the Carnival. Each year I do percussion (or what we call “ngoma” in Kiswahili). Various roads and travel stations are shut—so we have to walk, dance, generally, party.
I was strolling with these two females. Both wore what looked like a blend of peacocks and butterfly wings. Exaggeration is the style of Carnival. They looked amazing and were not the only half clothed individuals. As we chatted I brought out the topic of starring males; wanted their reaction.
Let’s give them false names, ie. Yasinta and Yvonne.
Yasinta’s parents hail from Africa but she was born here. “You see, there is a time and place for everything,” she replied with casual wisdom. “I wouldn’t wear what I have right now on another day, only during Carnival. You see everyone is dressed dramatically. And nobody is bothered. Yvonne and I have known each since we were kids—so we come here not seeking for guys. Just to have a good time.”
What about Yvonne?
“Each to their devices,” Yvonne (white English) explained equally, profoundly. “You men like to starring at women. It is your nature. We ladies do not dress to be stared. We just do it to please ourselves.”
Hold on! I protested. Surely you must expect a reaction?
“Yes, of course. But no need to go over the top and curse anyone. I think it is also a generation thing. We are both in our 20’s. Our parents grew up in a different era. We are kind of enjoying the fruits of feminism and freedom. And most of us have never seen what our grandmothers experienced. However, statistically, many women are still being harassed and killed by males. So we are still wary of you blokes.”
But why get upset when men gaze? Why parade naked breasts in parks and bus stations?
Yasinta: “We have grown up in an era of doing as you please. That’s why. But again, it is an individual thing.”
Left it that and kept on walking and dancing.
Bless your eyes.
