Beginning of an ‘error’: the future seems female

I dreamt: like a traitor in John Ruganda’s Shreds of Tenderness, I was tied to a pole in front of a female firing squad. The crowd was laughing. The crowd was female. Young female engineers. Female judges. Female politicians.

The officers giving the execution order sat in a tent behind the firing squad bantering, sipping fingers of expensive whisky, aloof, sheathed in their own smoke of self-actualisation. They were pot-bellied affluent influential men in their sixties, initiators of gender parity campaigns and affirmative action in aid of the girl child.

Dad kept their company. In between sips of his drink he calmly intoned, ‘I told that boy to be a bloody man! To be wary of the rise of girls against him and other boys. Now look at him, being soft, acting like the world owes him something... these millennials, useless bunch of boys. You can’t even compare them to the girls of our days.’ He chuckled. Lit a cigarette.

The campus fellow in this era is walking into a generational transition marked by the phenomenal rise of women. Of the girl child. Of girl power. If you tiptoe to the gate of the future and peek inside, you’ll see a world where women run the show. Where we (men in campus) rush home to battle with the tears of dicing onions, calming wailing babies and dealing with run-away house helps as our wives close business deals in executive lounges, whisky glasses resting in their manicured fingers taking bread home later in the evening to their underpaid overworked and even unemployed husbands (you and I).

Is this sort of future an error? Or beginning of an era? You decide. But the transition has already begun. There’s a bulging population of well to do under 30 ladies. Doing business. Earning their own dough. Inventing stuff. Changing lives as champions of humanitarian causes whilst their male contemporary wolfs through life. Complaining. Whining.

You my friends are evidence that what a man can do a woman can do better. Cheers!