This article appeared in Stiletto Point (Sunday Vision) on the 29th of September 2013.
Recently I was in a brainstorm with my workmates when Tom Rush, a columnist who was much loved by New Vision’s readership came up. All the people in the room were of one mind that he was an awesome writer and character, especially because of how interestingly he recounted his sexual, travel and life history.
I agreed with them and remembered how his column used to be the second thing I’d flip to, right after Bazanye’s. The whole conversation got me thinking though; if it had been a woman writing about her dalliances, expressing her sexuality so openly, would her work be as lauded as his was? Would she even be able to publish under her name?
I have read a sex advice column written by a Ugandan woman, but never have I read an article (openly) written by one of us that is celebrating or documenting personal sexual activity.
Which begs the questions:
Is the sexuality of women taboo?
Are we still lying to ourselves that women hate and fear sex?
Or are we custodians of the warped morality that allows men the liberty to sex as many people as they can while at the same time trying to manhandle women into chastity belts?
Women too have funny sexual stories that masses of people would identify with. We also have a need to know how other women are navigating their sexuality so that we can pick and choose how to navigate ours. We have also had interesting, creepy, scary, stupid, ridiculous, unforgettable lovers and experiences.
Take for example that time, some years ago when completely maddened by the energy at a party in Nkozi, I missed the bus that was transporting us Kampala kids back to the city. This didn’t bother me too much because I figured that if I got tired before morning came, I would turn one of my acquaintances into a sexless innkeeper. A sexless innkeeper is a person who you lead to believe that he or she is going to be enjoying sexytimes with you, and then when it comes to time for proceedings, you pretend to be asleep.
It is dangerous and I don’t recommend it. At all. Anyway, I chose somebody I already knew and liked, but had no particular desire to sleep with at the time.
This isn’t relevant to the story, but I feel you should know that when it came to snoozing time, I was like, ach, well, he’s cute, so why not.
Now during the party, I had had glitter thrown in my face, my dress had gotten a rip and I had lost a very precious earring (and basically sifted through sand looking for it). When daylight came, I was quite the sight. Trying to be helpful, my companion suggested that I wear one of his big shirts on top of my dress. This did not make me look better. At all.
I took the shirt and set off to collect my luggage from the room of another acquaintance. Because I was disoriented and still exhausted from the party, I didn’t have the patience to find the gate that would lead me to Bbosa hostel. Desperate for a shortcut, I climbed over the first wall that I came across.
Kati the moment my feet touched the ground, I noticed that tiny squeals were piecing the air around me. Only to turn and find myself in the indignant company of a gargantuan female pig and her one hundred piglets. The look she gave me was all the encouragement I needed to somersault back over that wall and run.
By the time I stopped, I had probably covered half the distance to Kampala.
My tweens were filled with wild times and I want to be able to document them without feeling scared, embarrassed, judged or unsafe. If this is something that rankles, that bothers your delicate sensibilities, I have something to say to you: Get over yourself. Ugandan women have, love and write about sex too.