Yesterday on my way to work I saw a woman walk past me. She had not one, but two black eyes. I couldn’t help but stare. The black circles round her eyes said many unspoken words. One of the circles had a scar that had just healed.
Being a thinker, I went deep into my mind and got lost in building the possible scenarios to explain the black circles. I followed her with my eyes until she disappeared. That’s what you do when you’re absent minded. At least that’s what I do.
She has a violent husband and she is staying on because of her kids. Many women get beaten severally, yet stay in an abusive relationship because of children, fear of solitude or dependency on their abusive spouse. So, that is the first scenario that comes to mind when you see such a woman.
Her mode of dressing betrayed her character. She had multi-colored leggings on. She was rather voluptuous, so in my rather judgmental mind, I thought she must be a drunkard. How does it connect with black eyes?
I once lived in a slum while in high school. There were all sorts of interesting characters there. One woman particularly stood out. She was Mama Supuu. Mama Supuu lived in a wooden house with her two children. A spoiled boy who was about 6 years old and a 3 year old girl called Supuu. I don’t remember the boy’s name.
Mama Supuu’s single roomed house also served as a Chang’aa den. It was always full of drunkards late into the night. Since Mama Supuu was a professional mixologist of some sort, she would reward herself with the drink. Mostly it would be a lot. We would hear singing, laughter, and most often, people fighting after having one too many.
Mama Supuu was synonymous with black eyes. She would wake up in the morning screaming at her children who demanded her attention when all she needed was some good sleep after a night of hard work.
So, you will have to forgive my judgmental mind as it drifted to the woman being a drunkard. This is the power of formed mental images.
The lady might have met muggers who beat the hell out of her leaving her with black eyes, having robbed her of whatever little possessions she had. This scenario made my mind drift to Angelah. Angelah was a single mother of two. She used to be very hardworking, selling vegetables in Buruburu.
She would pass by our house on her way home, to greet my mom. Angelah was gang raped and murdered just metres from our house in Nairobi River Primary School compound one evening. We looked for her everywhere, only for the police to find her mutilated body a week later. Angelah was no more, but her family never wanted to persue justice further. We laid her to rest and forgot the story.
Anyway, my main point is whatever it is that causes black eyes on women, should not be tolerated. It just might end up as a sad statistic which is soon forgotten.