A Kenyan Woman Journalist Has an Expiry Date
Sometimes I sit in my silence and wonder whether I should stay. Sometimes the returns on work done are so precious I do not want to stop thinking and writing and imagining….the possibilities, the answers to questions asked by random people I meet in the course of my work. Journalism, like any other job I presume, is exhausting. It takes and takes sometimes from a well that it does not replenish. I stay.
Sometimes, I meet people who have known me since days of yore. The days when I could not manage to buy myself a decent phone because money was scant. Sometimes it is friends so close. Sometimes it is relatives who wonder.
WHEN. WILL. YOU. STOP.
Sometimes I have no answers. Sometimes I do. Today I have an answer.
I AM PASSIONATE ABOUT WHAT I DO.
I do not think about it much. I just love it and it fits like a glove. The stresses and taunts not withstanding. Sometimes what ignites my fire is waking to messages like this;
“I saw your report from September of 2016 about the urgent need for housing for patients who are receiving cancer treatments at KNH and I wanted to convey my respect for an outstanding report. Your coverage of the story was excellent and very inspiring! It has highlighted why we have chosen to raise funds for this important project.”
Just like that. My personal desire for the dignity of those patients finds accommodation. There will be a safe place for patients to sleep in as they get their treatment. My heart is full of joy.
Journalism is rewarding in many aspects. This is one of those. A story that had got me into such trouble with the authorities was finally bearing fruit. That is past. The present is something has come of it.
When you are close to asking me why I stay? If I forget this, which I swear I won’t, just remember that there is light.
How I Rock It.
I do not wake up telling myself I am scared. I do not even listen to those little voices that once told me I am not good enough. That I needed validation. That my voice did not matter. I know, and science is on my side, what you feed yourself, is what you become. I stopped. I simply put a stop to the negativity. I shed friends. I shed them because we were no-longer on the same plane. Pity parties especially exhaust me. I hold you responsible for the kind of energy you bring to my space.
Even with everything I have done to ward off negativity, the advice doesn’t stop. This is something you learn as you walk in the journalism path. You learn to wear high boots that are light enough to walk you through and solid enough not to let throes of bad weather get to you. A balancing act of sorts.
Sometimes it is not even advice. There is a certain imagined ceiling in Kenyan journalism that has 35 written on it. If you a woman and site it, start preparing for your exit. I should be craning my neck staring at this ceiling but I refuse to. It is not my portion.
30’s is the new old in Kenyan journalism. No. Old oscillates between late 20’s, 30's, 40's? I cannot speak for the 50’s woman. They do not last that long in electronic media especially. I know the why. I know how fetid and crushing the environment can be. I know how women get hounded out of the media by impatient systems. I know how stories we tell ourselves come in the way of what we do. All these are valid concerns.
MIND YOUR TONGUE.
I know how your tongue and cold advice makes some women believe that perhaps it is time to take early retirement. Why do we not expect the same of farmers, lawyers, doctors, writers, coders, accountants, bankers and whoever else?
Electronic journalism is fairly new. The ethos that guide it are still simmering. However, the moral virtuosity that is propagated about women in journalism makes it difficult to execute our mandate without the stifling fear of a culture that doesn’t accommodate.
As women seek their balance and true place in this very complex web, stop stirring their pot with your venom. It is just not fair to be the one who always thinks that ageism is cool in the 21st century.
Oh my God and I just hit…publish? I cannot believe how audacious I have become…Oh well, here we are…we can toast to this by the way. Toast to overcoming fear…the apocalyptic kind of fear that resides in me…I go to battle everyday wrestling it.
