What makes a man?

One night, some weeks ago, while out of town, in Naivasha for a work assignment, an emergency arose back home. I needed to get home, handle the situation, and then drive back in time for the meeting the next morning. I fretted about it and then made a decision, which I shared with a colleague.

“Since Naivasha is about an hour and a half to Nairobi, I will drive at night, attend to the emergency, and then drive right back. After all, there won’t be much traffic after midnight.”

When she mentioned it, casually to one of the male colleagues, he said, without missing a beat. “I cannot let my sister drive alone, at night. I will take her and come back with her. I cannot sleep knowing the dangers out there, for a woman alone. We go with her.”

Nothing I said would change his mind, and so, a night trip it was. Thankfully, the early meeting was cancelled, and we did not need to drive back to Naivasha.

When I lost my car to a fraudulent person- two of them actually, but that is a very long story - my brother gave me his car and opted to use public transport. “It is easier for me to hop in Matatus, plus, my car remains parked once I get to work. It is yours for as long as you wish.” He kept his word, and I used that car for more than three years until I got my bearings.

There is so much abuse and cruelty towards women and girls, including the recent unchecked spate of femicides, that when a man stands up to protect a woman, we are stunned. What does he want from me? When it is clear that he wants nothing in return, that he is just a decent human being who chooses to be protective, it never leaves you untouched.

The entrenched misogyny in our communities has made life very dangerous for women, girls, and children, and so, when a man is protective of me, I do not know whether to cry, hug him or pay him. When 7,000 women and girls lose their lives in 24 months, the country should ground to a halt. The president should take notice. All the women representatives from every county should be on hunger strike, and all the men should opt to walk alongside a woman to protect her if we were a decent society. But no, even the women representatives have not spoken, because femicide is a norm and their daughters are safe, anyway.

It is not a lost cause though, as recent events have demonstrated that there are men who instinctively step up, as men should, to protect. I have seen my son stare down at a man who looked at me suspiciously as I used my phone. While I was in my teaching practice, a million years ago, the boys at St Peter’s Mumias High School, without prior agreement, transformed into stellar participative scholars as soon as my supervisor pulled a seat and sat at the back of the class. I passed my teaching practice assessments with flying colours- excuse the cliché.

Another time while on Kenyatta Avenue, a sudden demonstration broke out. I froze, clutching my handbag as the gang headed my way. Three gentlemen who must have come from the Mosque - gauging from their dressing – stepped in front of me and shielded me. “Let’s walk, quickly to that shop.” The eldest of them said as they cushioned me, and we made it to a shop. We hid in the shop until the gang dissipated. They still walked me to the building where I had parked and only left when I was so overwhelmed with gratitude that I went to hug the old man. He touched my head and told me to get home safely.

The other incident was when my car stalled one early, cold drizzly morning in Limuru. I got introduced to coolant, or lack thereof, on this day, after twenty years of driving experience. It took three strangers, men, who stopped and got drenched as they patiently helped me. They only accepted my offer to buy us all breakfast when I looked like I would cry.

Like many women in our country, I have experienced abuse and cruelty in the hands of one man, and fierce protection and care from another man. What makes one man a protector and the other an abuser?