The Sunday Mail
This is a post-rocket science era. We are in the age of the Internet, Twitter, Facebook, Yahoo! Google and many more.
If it fell upon me to give a word of advice to my 14-year old daughter on how she should dress, this is what I would tell her: dress appropriately for the occasion, remembering at all times my daughter that your right over your body cannot, at least in public, be exercised independently of the rights and feelings of those around you.
To me that is what it means to be cultured, culture being the recognised values, conventions, norms, attitudes, bahaviours and state of knowledge of a particular society or a group of people or an organisation.
On Friday morning as I drove to work, I managed to catch the tail-end of an interview between a radio presenter and Afrika Revenge; the band that gave us “Wanga” a few years back before disintegrating, or whatever happened to it. Now they say they are back forever, and they were effusive in thanking Zimbabweans for “keeping the faith” and welcoming them back after this eight-year hiatus.
In conclusion, one of the members said they were in fact not a band; Afrika Revenge was a brand. They wanted to promote and preserve African culture. Ubuntu.
Oh, culture? We have a way in which we view and relate to the world, to each other, to visitors, to animals and to the universe.
My mind, or whatever little remains of it, immediately whirled back seven days earlier. That was Saturday. There had been what was initially billed as a “Miniskirt March”.
It turned out to be a damp squib. There they were, women and young ladies putting on short skirts, mostly just above the knees, marching in town. What was “mini” about that?
Those who proposed the mini-march said this had been done as a protest against touts who harassed women wearing miniskirts.
I was going to be angry to be accosted by women putting on miniskirts to protest against touts. I am not a tout, why accost me with your semi-nudity?
Our women seem to have read the mood, and instead opted for the short skirt.
What was most important though was the debate around the miniskirt, a debate as old as prostitution.
The march was roundly denounced in all phone-in radio programmes. Most of the people who phoned in were women. They said the march was shameful.
The daredevils were not cowed, which is why I so eagerly looked forward to this Earth-shattering march. When it came to delivery though, most men must have felt let down.
Most of our women put on short skirts, so what was the hype about!
Let’s get the debate.
Nobody says women should be harassed for putting on miniskirts. I would most probably intervene on behalf of the poor woman if that were to happen in my view.
The issue revolved around culture and what people associate miniskirts with.
It was argued that it was unAfrican and shameful for a decent woman to bare her thighs and the top of her breasts in public. That was bedroom attire. More pointedly, the argument went, miniskirts are the dress-code of prostitutes.
These were women. I am sure most men would have loved to watch the miniskirt march.
But women found the miniskirt very offensive by association. It is not in the nature of nuns to drape themselves in the gaudy fashion of night watchers.
Alternatively, our miniskirted sisters were advised to be mindful of the situation. There is dressing for sport, for the dance floor, for church, for school, for the bar or the beach.
There is fashion show, jaw-dropping dressing for the office, and then, what offends most men, the shabby dressing for the home.
The sisters lashed out, sometimes almost hysterically, in a nihilistic way. It is my body. Nobody should tell me how I should dress. I do what I like with my body. Men are paternalistic. Our society is patriarchal. Men want to view women as sex objects. What I do with my body is my business, it is my human right. There is no prescribed dress-code in the Constitution. What dress length is decent or correct? As defined by men, they scoffed.
The debate got degraded. There was desperation. How did our ancestors dress?
This is a post-rocket science era. We are in the age of the Internet, Tweeter, Facebook, Yahoo! Google and many more.
How does a sister look at a cow and envy how it covers its back with its tail? Is civilisation gone so far that there is an atavistic longing to reconnect with Mother Earth? To walk barefoot on all four once again!
The real debate borders on common sense more than it does on culture or civilisation – or lack of it.
We can all tell the colours of the rainbow. We can tell if a certain type of perfume is good. We can tell if a vehicle model is worth buying. Beyond the eye of the beholder, we can all appreciate a beautiful woman, otherwise there should be no beauty contests if everyone were to be judged by what they thought about themselves.
Put bluntly, society, human beings have values, principles, standards which collectively enable us to be each other’s keepers. Every species of animal belongs to itself and wants to preserve a certain identity.
It’s not all about miniskirts and rape as culture.
If my daughter agrees that my message and intention are clear, not whether or not she agrees with them, I would leave her to figure out the rest. And I say all this knowing full well that my injunction is no chastity belt against rape, whether a woman is in London, New York, Hong Kong, Harare or Baghdad.
To be human is to acknowledge the power of forces beyond oneself. There is nothing African culture about rape, least of all blaming Zimbabwean culture or patriarchy.
People must simply learn to be responsible and take care of their lives. Women, just like men, must appreciate that freedom comes with responsibility. There is no sophistication in strutting about semi-naked in front of men or women because they will live up to their nature, whether the woman or man is in Amsterdam, Stockholm, Abu Dhabi, Tokyo or Nairobi.
What I shall never tell any woman, whatever her standard of education or status in life, is that your body is yours to do whatever you like wherever.
There is a limit to what one can do with their body.
I personally don’t like a necktie. I won’t put on one unless it’s a strict requirement. This is one piece of dressing I consider very European. But it is important to have a sense of occasion. I don’t know if I should blame culture, or matriarchy!
At the end of a long day, when my daughter turns 18, I would call her once again, and remind her; our people are very rational, moral even.
When they see a mentally-challenged person passing by naked, they will find something to cover his or her shame. When they observe what looks like a cross between a cow with its tail cut and a woman, they will lift the tail to find out the type of beast.
You have the choice to dress like a woman or a cow.
Should you choose to dress like a cow and some a ruffian takes a lewd peek under your tail, or hollers out crude words, have the courage to fight him alone.
Don’t appeal to society for help, for you either don’t respect that society’s values or to you it doesn’t at all exist.
Joram Nyathi is the Zimpapers Group Political Editor
