So, I had a debate the other day
With a friend who had much to say
About nothing
He had a very unreasonable reason
Why we had to sit down and reason
As men.
And in a half-baked Tamale-Mirundi-like
Approach to analysis
He thoughtlessly thought he had a thoughtful topic
Worth sharing my thoughts about.
“Let’s talk about this as men.”
He said.
“Don’t you think, a woman’s future is between her legs?”
And like a frightened Yoweri Museveni
Woken up in the midst of a nightmare
Where Bobi Wine has shifted address from Magere to Entebbe
And Eddy Mutwe is the new head of the Majje
I frantically asked him “what the hell are you talking about?”
And he responded in the most innocent voice like a Mutooro.
“A woman’s future is between her legs.”
So, I allowed him the benefit of doubt
To explain his delusions
What don’t you know? he asked
Don’t you see that marriage
Is the single most coveted achievement
Aspired for by every girl who grows a breast?
Look down throughout history
Marie Antoinette, King Solomon’s concubines, even the virgin Mary
Or you want me to talk about Uganda’s biggest foreign exports
Zari and Bad black?
A deafening silence pierced through our conversation
As I looked at him with sour eyes
And a speechless mouth suffocated with words.
Excuse me bro, I said.
Grab a pen and paper
This will be a lecture not a debate.
It is true, a woman’s future is between her legs
If that is all your research cared to cover.
But if you cared to uncover more…
A woman’s future features in every sphere of our atmosphere
Now, let’s not fear as men
To accept that patriarchy
Is the most archaic practice
We smuggled into civilization.
Because it assumes that growing a beard
Is nobler than carrying breasts and holding a womb.
So, bro
To avoid such conversations
The next time we meet
Remember to carry your brains
Or else your future is under your feet
