Inherit This

[3-8-2010]
I arrive late to a baraza (meeting) held by one of the assistant chiefs. I quickly park my bike and move as inconspicuously as the only mzungu in a 30km radius can to the shade of a magnolia tree. One man is standing, his opinion means everything in this moment. The chief quickly runs to me, "Ahhh Nyar Kakelo! I'm so glad you've come!" He points towards a bench among the other men for me to sit. My Dholuo limited, my part in this community not yet clear, and my contributions have been less than I've received. Still, here I am sitting with the men, perpetuating the myth that I deserve better treatment than the other women because of the country I come from (or is the hope that I give them?) I sit and listen as people stand and express their opinions, men and women alike. Two women, no older than 23, sit on the ground in the middle of the circle facing teh counsel of men. It becomes clear that they are trying to resolve a family dispute. What's odd to me, as an outsider, is that the women have not spoken a word. They have no say in the matter. My supervisor leans over and gestures to one of the women, "The lady's husband has recently passed away and two men claim to have the right to inherit her."  

Wife inheritance is an actively practiced tradition in Kenya, especially Luoland (Nyanza province). Members of the husbands family have the right to take on the role of the husband when teh wife is widowed. The tradition originally started to help the family deal with bereavement and income support. But it has evolved to a whole new level, giving the man the right to have sex, whether authorized or not, with their new wives. There are several social injustices involved, one being the reason I"m here. Usually no one really knows how the late husband died, and no one cares to ask.  

Straight-faced, the women stare past the show, as man by man, they stand to express their deepest concerns on the matter. They couldn't be less involved with the issue, but it's almost amusing. They let the men beat their chests as I imagine the dialogue running through their heads. "Do I have enough corn flour for ugali tonight? Looks like rain, I need to take the laundry inside. I forgot to pay moma Agnes for milk last week...." These women don't need my sympathy, they need support. As a public health volunteer I struggle to find my voice on this subject matter. There's a fine line between respecting traditional values and behavior change. My supervisor addresses wife inheritance as one of the reasons Nyanza province has the highest HIV rate in the country, yet he and I both sit and listen to the debate without objection. I'm not proposing to stop wife inheritance, I just want to families to become aware of what it is they are inheriting. Life is not as clear cut as wife + sex = marriage. Yesterday a local farmer dropped by to introduce himself and ask advice. He offered his prayers that I would have the insight to help the community. It was a beautiful gesture, so maybe to be the change that I symbolize in this community I need to start asking the questions which address the core traditions that the Luo's love to practice.