We are bringing up boys not fit to take over critical role of men

There is something about the killing of Monica Kimani, which infuriates me as a journalist, a man and a father.

And it is the cold-blooded impersonal manner in which her life was ended.

From the accounts that I have read, she was killed with an unKenyan efficiency; there was none of the primitive fury and frenzied emotion that we see in the average crime.

This is not just a sick mind; it is one that is supremely arrogant and misogynistic, one that regards a beautiful young woman as nothing more than just a speck of mud on the boot.

I am outraged to no end by the total, otherworldly disdain for the value of her life, the way she was trussed up, hog-tied, her mouth taped, her throat cut and placed in the bathtub, even the water left running to drain her blood.

TREASURE

I can’t understand the modern man, for there is no chance that a woman did this.

There was a time when men looked at women, at the worst, with lust. In their own way, such men wanted to love and treasure women, but not in an honest and decent way.

Now things are different. Men want to live off women, steal their money, impregnate them and abandon them with the children and, occasionally, slit their throats and stab them in the stomach.

The days of the man as the pillar of the family, the strong beam supporting the wife, children, lineage and clan, are long gone.

His place has been taken by brave, strong women, facing the world alone and raising sons who, in some cases, turn out to be wimps, used to letting women pay their way through life.

PATRIARCHY

There is a masculinity crisis in Kenya. Tragically, this is still a patriarchal society, not used to allowing women to take the lead.

So, we shall hand over our future to men who are unprepared to take responsibility for anything, not even their own lives.

Growing up in the mountains, some of the most dangerous things in our lives were the fast-moving streams and rivers of our homeland.

Because of the steep slopes, the rivers were fast-moving, the currents like a punch in the face.

In places, the water had polished hard black rocks into a mirror smoothness which gleamed in the sunlight. Anything that fell into the rivers would instantly be smashed against these rocks.

Many are the villagers, unlucky enough to lose their footing on a path or steep slope, who ended up as a momentary stain on these rocks.

Yet, one of the most popular pastimes among boys was to look for the darkest, deepest, spookiest section of a river — and swim it.

BOYS

I recall one Sunday I tagged along a group of boys who were trekking to a dangerous place called Kirugura, famous, apparently, for the huge number of people who had drowned there.

You wonder why anyone in their right mind would look for a place with that kind of reputation. But we were not folks in our right minds; we were boys.

And it was bad. On the surface, it was calm. But it was pitch-black because of great depth, with a 90-degree bend towards some rapids or small waterfall.

This black section was defined by sheer walls of vertical rock, smooth, without a handhold or foothold. Below, the river sucked you to the bottom like a giant magnet.

One of the boys undressed and, preserving his modesty with cupped hands, as we often did, advanced to the edge of the cliff, swung his hands on his side like a pendulum to gain momentum and flew into the air like a black arrow.

Far, below, he sliced into the water with a boom like a nuclear bomb, which echoed over and over between the sheer walls. It was a long time before he fought his way to safety.

CONFIDENCE

This is an extreme, almost suicidal, example but that’s how boys learn, earn their place in the pack and develop confidence.

They do these stupid things to test themselves and earn the respect of their peers, which forms the basis of their confidence.

They look as if they are showing off but there is important stuff going on — like a peacock measuring its train.

Parenting, especially when it’s done by a single mother, consists in keeping the precious boy away from dirt and danger.

So he grows up over-mothered, untested and unsure of himself.

If he does not start smothering things, he will turn out to be laid-back, lacking in initiative and happy to let other people take care of him — just as Mum has always done — a textbook case of failure to launch.

IMMATURE

Of course, not everyone turns out this way. And there are many fine young men that I know who have turned out fantastically well: Respectful, responsible, future-oriented and able to take care of themselves and their families.

But there is a population of damaged boys in adult clothes: Unfeeling, spoilt, irresponsible, not a thought for the future, dependent, self-absorbed and as likely to slit your throat as they kiss you.

These are the folks to whom we’re handing our wealth, daughters and country.

If you think I’m making this up, there are many programmes in this city teaching boys manliness. I remember the angry shout of one trainer at over-protective mothers: Your son is not your husband! Let him go!

In the meantime, the girls are doing just fine. Organised, viciously competitive and focused. They will take over — if some guy does not cut their throat or stab them.

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