She danced to the beat of a different drummer

For me
to be a feminist is
to celebrate my mother
to poetise my sisters
to message their failures
it is
to savour their intellect
to drink their feelings
to embrace
their achievements

The last time I saw Virginia Edith Wambui Otieno Mbugua was at a civil society gathering ahead of promulgation of the new constitution almost exactly a year before she passed away. Despite the lateness of the hour by the time the programme came to a close, she stayed on to the very end. The sense of satisfaction when she held aloft the symbolic copy of the constitution on behalf of the freedom fighters of the past before it was passed down the generational chain to the children waiting to receive it as the new covenant to govern the land was tangible. I wondered then if she thought of the contributions she had made personally towards the historic moment we were witnessing, the constitutional affirmation of the rights of Kenyan women as full citizens – political, social, legal as well as cultural.

It was perhaps particular memories of personal experiences that made her part of this moment of national celebration that evoked that quiet smile of pride on her face: a woman standing as a political candidate where people insisted only men ought to be leaders; a woman defined as being married to someone from the ‘wrong community’ or ‘wrong generation’; a politician who insisted on remaining in a party despite being from the ‘wrong community’; a human being who insisted on her right to make her own decisions about her life; a Kenyan who lived the right to call any place in this country home...

I, in turn, thought about the day she stood her ground at a plenary session during the Constitution of Kenya Review Commission (CKRC) even as a group of rowdy delegates tried to strip her of her rights of citizenship on the flimsy charge of being ‘an abuser of African culture.[2] Yes, she stood her ground. As a cultural advocate, this is what most defines Wambui Otieno-Mbugua for me and guarantees her place in Kenyan history as a cultural hero. And by her insistence on being present in that place at that moment, regardless of the vocal opposition to her being there, she demonstrated the importance of the words later on immortalised as Article 11 of the constitution: ‘culture as the foundation of the nation, and the cumulative civilisation of the Kenyan people and nation’.

20 August 2003. The National Constitutional Conference (NCC) gathered to receive the interim report of the task force on the ad hoc committee on culture. This was indeed a momentous event for the nation. This task force was one of the two specifically set up by the CKRC in response to topics that were of pressing concern to Kenyans as reflected by the CKRC’s country-wide engagement, but had received inadequate attention in the Zero Draft. For the first time, Kenya was actually considering entrenching culture in the constitution, and that report was to set the stage for a discussion on the same. It was in the middle of its presentation that Wambui Otieno-Mbugua walked into the hall - and disorder ensued.

What followed reflects the very reason I celebrate her here as a cultural hero. The on-going presentation was abruptly halted and the NCC was immediately split. Some delegates demanded that she be ejected from the gathering for ’abusing the fundamentals of African culture’, arguing that in so doing the NCC would ’maintain the dignity of African men’. Others defended her right to remain, arguing that she had done nothing wrong and it would, in fact, be un-African to harass and discriminate against her on the grounds of gender; that she was a Kenyan citizen with rights of participation as an observer at the NCC, having duly registered as was procedural. Indeed, as was observed by both the chair of the session Wilfred ole Kina and CKRC Commissioner Abubakar Zein Abubakar, her presence underlined the very reason for the task force: The weighty complexity of cultural matters that needed to become part of our everyday discourse. The fractious exchange that ensued before the NCC got back to the business of the day remains a historic testimony to the challenges of engaging cultural realities and possibilities in a manner that respects difference and diversity.

It is instructive that without even uttering a word, Wambui Otieno-Mbugua could, just by her sheer presence, elicit such an incredible exchange, actually leading to a fifteen minute ‘cooling off’ break. No one cited any specific reason why she had been singled out for such attention, nor did anyone present make any enquiries as to the reason. Clearly, to be Kenyan was to know and appreciate the cultural importance of this one woman. It is this that prompts this reflection on Wambui Otieno-Mbugua as one of those rare beings – a cultural hero whose contributions to Kenya and national discourses on this subject spring not from her own personal investment in culture as a career path or calling, but rather from her understanding of herself as a cultural practitioner. Her very life functioned as a battleground in the struggle to assert her understanding of what it meant to be a human being, whose life is determined by her identity as a Kenyan woman.

For me
to be a feminist is
to speak out loud
to articulate my name
to assert that I am
to declare that woman is
it is
to water my fertility
it is
to converse with my soul.

Most people struggle with defining cultural work outside the realm of the creative economy and the expressive arm of culture, the arts. For this reason, we Kenyans often use the terms ‘artist’ and ’cultural worker’ interchangeably, many of us struggling to even define what those terms mean. It is astonishing how many people assume that whenever one talks about cultural advocacy, it is solely the wish list of a small, self-indulgent community of liberal social rebels that is being addressed. Then there are those who see cultural workers as another fringe group - the die-hard warriors of ‘African tradition’ who see themselves as patriotically holding the last line of defence against the encroachment of globalisation, ignoring the reality of culture as a living entity and tradition as, to quote Amiri Baraka, as ‘the changing same’. It is true that today we are gradually seeing more respect given to those whose work in the creative economy that makes Kenya a richer place. Still, there is little appreciation, comparatively, for those whose labour in the culture realm is difficult to assign economic value to, the precious handful of humanity who tirelessly work at fashioning the intangible sphere of our collective identity, values and priorities. This is where, in my opinion, Wambui Otieno Mbugua has made a singularly distinct contribution to this nation.

As we who serve at the Kenya Cultural Centre like to reiterate, while all of us might not be cultural professionals, we are all cultural practitioners who ought to take the labour of culture seriously. If Kenyan culture is, indeed, as the constitution tells us, ‘the cumulative civilisation of the Kenyan people and the nation’, then all of us are, by default if not by choice, part of defining what that culture is and ought to be. Yet, outside those who consciously identify themselves as cultural workers and/or activists, few of us give consideration to the everyday rituals, traditions, rites and processes that we participate in or intellectually engage with the principles, rules, covenants and institutions that govern these spaces. We accept unquestioningly their authority even as we grumble under our breath about that which we are outraged, angry, frustrated or upset about, giving up on the possibility of ‘becoming the change we want to see’ without even trying. There is, perhaps, good reason to do so, given the vicious nature of the fight-back that we know we will encounter if we dared venture into that space. Yet, one wonders how many ‘harmful cultural practices’ would still exist if more of us had the courage to wrap on our lesso and do the labour of displaying the personal as political.

I cite Wambui Otieno-Mbugua as a Kenyan shero, because she was not only one of those who took seriously the question of culture with regard to her own personal life, but she also had the courage and chutzpah to extend her understandings of what should be to the public sphere, in order that her choices might benefit others whose lived realities echoed her own. That she was willing to shoulder that burden, despite the high personal cost - financial, psychological, social and professional - is something I pause to think about. It must have been an added burden to know that her family would also have to live with the implications of her choices. She was not one of those unfortunate beings who have their moment in the harsh spotlight of public attention despite themselves, when some aspect of their lives they would prefer to keep private catches the attention of the media. She became a cultural icon because she did not shy from public scrutiny of those extremely personal aspects of her life, despite knowing how outraged cultural conservatives would be, not only because she dared challenge social norms, but also because she did so openly and with no apology. She became part of our national discourse, often vilified, talked about, mocked and condemned by people who knew little about her, apart from what came over the grapevine and media outlets. Those who cheered her on often did so because she represented the promise of a better future for themselves; few, however, dared to emulate her in rushing in where angels feared to tread.

For me
to be a feminist is
to embrace my womanness
the womanness of
all my mothers
all my sisters
it is
to hug the female principle
and the metaphors of life
that decorate my being

Ironically, standing for what she believed put her in the dock when it came to the merciless court of public opinion. Never mind that she was the victim, not the perpetrator, of the rape that made her detention a living hell; of the court case that took away her rights as a widow; or of the political violence whose physical consequences she suffered to her dying day. In counting the cost of her choices, she must have understood that while the price she was paying was high, the price of conforming would be even higher, not just for herself, but for myriads of others who had not been given the gift of the grace – or the sheer will – to stand their ground when the hurt became especially cutting. Still, I wonder if there were times when she was tempted to give in and give up, especially when her choices complicated her relationship with, and the lives of, family and friends who found it hard to understand her or deal with the pressure of their relationship to her. I hope she and they found comfort in knowing that she had lived up to the courageous responsibility to leave the world better than she found it.

Those who knew her well testify to her inability to leave injustice alone wherever and whenever she found it. She detested any form of marginalisation and bigotry – be it on the grounds of gender, social status or background, vocation, age, ancestral roots, religion, political affiliation, ideological orientation - whatever it might be, she wielded her life as a weapon to challenge and correct bigotry and inequity. In that, she challenges us all to understand that culture is not something that just happens or something that we are born prisoners of and helpless to do anything about, but rather that like life itself, it evolves and responds to the socio-historical context which it finds itself part of. Culture is crafted to serve humanity, rather than the other way round. And so, while we might not agree with the choices she made, we ought to be grateful for the gift she gave all of us: the invitation to talk to each other about those important aspects of our lives that we might otherwise continue to sweep under the carpet in public and weep about in private.

Wambui Otieno-Mbugua serves for me as a living reminder of Ayi Kwei Armah’s injunction that we take the time to turn celebrations into cerebration - intellectually engaging with the cultural processes, rituals and rites with which we mark the passage of our lives as human beings and societies - thinking through what these symbolise. We must create the spaces to make our lives meaningful, having the courage to change those elements that no longer serve us even as we embrace those that enable us to make the past a meaningful foundation for our collective futures. Listening to the tributes of those who lined up to publicly eulogise her after her death, I was particularly struck by how many testified to her character as a catalyst of change. Regardless of whether we ultimately agreed with her or not, Wambui Otieno-Mbugua forced us to re-examine our own lives, our beliefs, our choices, our prejudices, our actions, making us honestly face up to those hidden, unquestioned, aspects of ourselves that we might otherwise left unexamined.

For me
to be a feminist is
to unseat domination
and forge a rock
out of powerlessness
it is
to shake hands
with people's struggles
it is
to disempower
superpower arrogance
it is
to conceive and deliver
a human world.

Thank you, Mama Wambui. The lessons you taught us keep your spirit alive – and our future is better because you lived.

BROUGHT TO YOU BY PAMBAZUKA NEWS

* Mshai Mwangola chairs the Governing Council of the Kenya Cultural Centre.
* Please send comments to editor[at]pambazuka[dot]org or comment online at Pambazuka News.

WORKS CITED
Constitution of Kenya Review Commission (CKRC). “National Constitutional Conference Verbatim Report of the Presentation of the Taskforce of the Ad Hoc Committee on Culture Held at the Bomas of Kenya on August 20th August.
Family of Wambui Otieno Mbugua. “Celebrating the Life of Virginia Edith Wambui Otieno Mbugua.” 7 September 2011.
Kenya, Republic of. The Constitution of Kenya. Nairobi: Government Printers. 2010
Mugo, Micere. “To be a Feminist.” http://socialiststories.org/content/be-feminist-micere-githae-mugo Accessed 14th September 2011