Lately, I have grown out of favour for the male female equity and equality discussions ,thanks to the emotional sensation  surrounding the whole issue. Feminism is as toxic as chauvinism. We may never agree on how far is far when crossing the boundaries to either, but then, no man ever wants to marry another man nor a woman another woman .Anyway, this is a discussion of the day. For the past few months, I have been getting used to hearing harrowing tales of women going through circumstances I consider unfortunate. Yesterday, I met this  barely 16 year old  in the maternity  ward. She wore a defeated demeanor, barely  keeping eye contact  .She kept fidgeting with her fingers  and attempted to construct a few kiswahili responses to questions asked. Her hair was gathered in three bundles and from the look, it has taken probably a year or so since a drop of water made an intimate contact. She wore an Old Jubilee T-shirt, red in colour, with an oversized multicolored skirt. No shoes covered her feet and the cracks on her sole extending almost to her knees could hide a twenty shilling coin. Asking her about her parity, I was shocked at the answer, para 3 !And she had spontaneous vertex deliveries, I was perplexed. I vividly remember my first day in the delivery room, about 5years ago, those days when I dreamt bigger dreams .I mean, if you asked me my long-term plans, I wouldn't hesitate to say I wanted to be a neurosurgeon with subspecialization in the basal ganglia a minor in the limbic system with a major in cardiothoracic surgery. The days I was filled with vigour. I even remember telling a friend I wanted ten kids, a rich husband and  a bungalow somewhere in Washington DC! Anyway, fast-forward, I have graduated  to the bora uhai team and the rest is history. Whatever happened to my dream is a story for another day. Anyway ,back to the delivery room, I found ten women, each on a couch in extreme pain. Somehow, my grandma had convinced me that children were bought in the supermarket .Even though I had obviously outgrown her version of procreation, thanks to biology, for some reason I didn't know the pain at giving birth was that much. And the accompanying bleeding wasn't anything close to my expectations. From that day I vowed never to pursue obstetrics at least if not for the PTSD, then for my hate for periniums. But, this 16 year old delivered her baby almost effortlessly. She had undergone FGM and a generous episiotomy had been administered  .I saw neither a tear nor a wink .Nothing prepared me for the shock I got when I met the husband. He was a homoerectus of a man, probably this was his fourth wife, and he felt no shame being a husband to a teenager.For a moment I thought I had met my ancestor.He wore dirty clothes Honestly ,this  girl was supposed to be somewhere in highschool with girls of her age discussing crush celebrities not cooking for some great grandfather with emaciated kids. On the second day, she still hadn't had her bath. Nauseating Smell of lochia with a bunch of flies were her portion. Reason, until her husband licensed her to. First of all, who ever thought they needed permission to do basic things as washing up. Even the hygiene status of the licencer himself was something to feel sorry about. He must have taken his bath during the days of the great Kimnyolei. The day he came to me demanding a discharge for his jaundiced  baby, I fled in a terrific speed .I have never ran like that btw.Infact ,the next day  my feet were sore from the rapid flexion and extension. I couldn't understand what he was saying, but the tone and the look he gave me told me it was time to flee for my life.  Ever heard of the blind leading the blind ?this was it!