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

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