Agola.
That's what the women in my family are called. All of us. Named after my grandmother. She was fierce, strict and hard-headed. Just like any Luo lady. Luo Ladies are characteristically expressive, loud and fiesty. And now I compile all the unintentional feminisms that I adopted through my Luo Pride and its leading ladies.
Jaber.
My first recognition of beauty was my mother. She was tall (tall in Kenyan standards), had glowing smooth dark skin, a gap in her teeth and syanda. And her sisters looked exactly like her. And so did my cousins. That was my view of beauty. When I found out about colourism, I was in utter shock. How can one look at my family and not see their beauty? I could not believe it. And neither did they. Even when they would let out a few words of insecurity about their skin, it did not matter. There was no one to judge. My cousins and aunts taught me how to apply vaseline and Nivea Cocoa Butter Lotion, till one glows. And glow they did, when the golden sun would hit our dala in Siaya, it was as if golden statues are wandering the earth. The glow so unmistakable, it was our golden world. No one to tell my ladies their skin is too dark. No one to mock. And that is the feminist lesson I learnt, no one gets to dictate your beauty. You glow indefinitely despite it all. Despite the systemic oppression and ridicule, darkskin women face, min Tasha taught me how to glow.
Stall 293.
"Nango!" the ladies in Stall 293, at Kenyatta Market greet each other. I am seated staring at myself in the mirror. They know my mum. They wouldn't have guessed, they tell me. My hair is caressed as they ask me what I want to get done. Four people in my hair. Suddenly I am transported to Nyanza. I feel like I'm listening to my aunts gossip as we lay out maize. In salons, most entertainment is gotten from the hairdressers' gossip. In Stall 293, we explore the pillars of the Luo female lifestyle:
Bank Otuch
The Luo lifestyle is glamorous, it's flashy, it's money. Matching outfits, expensive bags, long dreadlocks. And the women, they do not settle for less. The Luo women knew their worth. A hairdresser exclaims "simama na mtu amesimama" as they talk on about people's relationships haphazardly. Never settle. As a woman it is important to love yourself, so as to not want to go through suffering in the hands the of a man. Especially, when dealing with Luo men (my mum knew to leave these ones alone). A woman nourishes society, we understand humanity. We do not deserve to suffer. The patriarchy might lie to women that they should cater for the man's needs. In Luo culture, the husband caters to the wife.
English
After DhoLuo, the second language you shall speak is English. English in a British post-colonial state shows education. And Luo women are educated. Education keeps you free. My mum focused on education, head girl in high school, got her Masters. She did not necessarily want a husband. My dad fell into her life actually and he made sure, she studied too. Got her Masters, before he got his. And so Luos speak English to each other. The hairdressers changed between DhoLuo, English and Kiswahili seamlessly. Helpful for me as one who didn't master DhoLuo. All lectures about my future happened in DhoLuo or English, my aunts would not let us ruin our lives. Education means freedom. My family ensured I stayed free.
Sisterhood
Because my mum was a Luo woman, a lot of what I experienced of femininity and sisterhood was Luo women. As I sat and got braided in the same seat that my mother has been getting her hair done, for years since she came to Nairobi, I appreciate the loyalty and love that women show each other. My mother grew up with multiple sisters, and I hated that my mum shared my business with them. But that's sisterhood. We share our business with each other. As the women did my hair and rolled my twists on their thighs. Life advice, dating advice, health advice was floating through the air. Men were nowhere to be seen. It is raw and it is full of emotion. And these emotions are shared through this collective experience. A shared air from the lake basin that sweeps over Nyanza.
Stall 293 remains a place of solace. A shared piece of memory with my mother. An heirloom that she passed down to me. She shares the existence with those who mould her hair. A connection and network of femininity
"Abiro chwadi"
Matek. These are all words we understand as children of Luo women. It is a threat. It is no secret that Luo women are strict. My mother was strict growing up. Disciplined, focused, goal -oriented. A lesson that must be learnt under the patriarchy. Feminism requires you to be focused. You cannot be shaken by the misogyny in Kenyan society, you must not succumb to patriarchal expectations. "Chokeee" my mum would exclaim, when we committed mistakes. Of course, there is something to be criticised about her strictness, but my mother showed me, that this life as a woman, is very real. The patriarchy is real. I must be strict to overcome it. She did not once ever tell me "learn this for your husband". She wanted me to be educated and learned. Encouraged my intellectual capabilities. She taught me that men lie, they may blind side you. She would lecture me on avoiding them each time I walked out of the house. She decentred men for me. My mother was my first feminist
Just like in The River and The Source, my life was filled with Luo women, succeeding, pushing forward and pushing each other forward. Whether I was in Nairobi, Siaya, Maseno or Kisumu, my Luo Ladies remain familiar. They preach the same thing. High self worth and high self-esteem. Agola.
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