Walk of Shame

Everyone is familiar with the walk of shame. The one where a lady wakes up next to a man in the wee hours of the morning, in her bra and panties, if she's lucky. If not, the hunt for her intimate things begins. She finds the dress she was wearing the previous night in between the sheets of the bed she slept in and puts it on. She looks for her panties, and if she is lucky she'll get them and wear them, if not, she will forgo them or just put on whatever she finds, which may be the man's boxers. It is too early to think of the fashion police. Besides, she is still drunk from the previous night's alcohol. If she were sober, perhaps she would do a proper search for her underwear.

She shouldn't have slept out. The idea now is for her to sneak back home without anyone noticing that she did not actually sleep in her bed that night. She remembers her shoes. She turns back and heads towards the bedroom. On the way there she meets one shoe in the sitting room under the stool, which she puts on;  the other she finds at the foot of the bed, hidden by her boyfriend's shirt. Sigh. She picks the second pair and hobbles as she wears it in her drunken state. She has money for an Uber taxi, but she does not want to use it. She tries to wake up her boyfriend. He's dead asleep. Notice he's now her boyfriend.  After the things that transpired the night before, he is no longer just any man to her. She shrugs her shoulders. At  least she tried. She finds his trousers hanging on the seat near the bed. There she finds his wallet. There are a couple of notes in there. She does some quick calculation. A taxi from his house to hers will cost about Kshs. 1,200. She takes 2,000 shillings, folds it and stuffs it in her bra. There could be an emergency, a girl's got to be prepared, she says to herself justifying her actions. In fact, he is very lucky, that is all she is taking. There have been worse stories.

She sits on the couch and requests a taxi. Her ride is five minutes away. She looks around the sitting room. Her eyes land on a glass of unfinished whiskey. She knows she'll regret this later, but she takes a swig of that brown liquid. Just as she is getting used to the sting in her throat, her phone rings. Her driver has arrived. She grabs her purse from the table then makes her way to the door. It does not occur to her that that was the only item that was in a relatively reachable place. She opens the door and lets herself out. 

She opens the back left door of the car and greets her driver. She does not have the time for small talk. Not that she would be in a position to hold a conversation that early in the morning, anyway. Her driver must have had a whiff of her alcohol-laden morning breath, mixed with the shot she had taken just a few minutes before, when she mouthed her greeting, because he does not initiate any conversation. He just proceeds to drive. Perhaps he is not a morning person. Even better. Within half an hour she's at the gate of her parents' house. She pays and gets out of the car. It is now 6 am. Getting into the house will be easy once the guard lets her in quietly. Her mother wakes up at about this time for prayers. If she can just get up the stairs and into her bedroom, she shall be home safely. It is a good thing the house help they have at this time around isn't a tattle tale. Her shenanigans are kept secret. Today she is lucky. Within no time she is in bed and blacks out as soon as her head hits the pillow. A vow to not repeat that is made, but it shall be soon be broken.

It is interesting that it is very rare for the male species to do the walk of shame. Well, unless they were in the woman's house, but that is a story for another day. The kind of walk of shame I am referring to is not the one I have described above. This one cannot be seen; not by other people anyway. It is the humiliation that a girl who has spent a night with a man who is not her husband feels as she makes her way home and when she sobers up. Perhaps she was not even drunk. She just made a conscious decision to sleep with him. It is felt when she does an assessment of the things she did and remembers that one thing. 

She feels it when Google confirms that the itch she is experiencing down there is a yeast infection, a sign that she is pregnant. She feels it when her phone which was previously buzzing non-stop remains silent, because the deed has been done. She feels it when she meets up with her friends and cannot speak up because they would not understand. It is felt when she goes on social media and she is reminded of that night. It is not experienced by every girl, though. Just that one who has grown up knowing and believing that sexual purity before marriage is of utmost importance. The one who later on experiences sexual liberation to a point, because the doctrine on sexual purity is still etched in her mind, so it is partial liberation. 

It could be easy to just pick a side. Either live in the ways of the world or enjoy full sexual liberation. Notice how the former is so judgmental. However, let us not go into the indoctrination of religion. That is a whole other post altogether. It is only an African who can say whole before an item that cannot be halved or portioned. Lol. But I digress.

For your ways are in full view of the Lord, and He examines all your paths.

The evil deeds of the wicked ensnare them; the cords of their sins hold them fast.

For lack of discipline they will die, led astray by their own great folly.

Proverbs 5:21-23 NIV

Even before anyone can point a condemning finger on her, she judges herself harshly. She is not worthy. If anything, because of her lack of self-control she shall die. Just because she cannot keep her legs closed, or is it crossed? Either way, she should have remained pure, untouched, not fondled and kissed by men who are not her husband. The thoughts in her mind drive her crazy. She is condemned. Not even the countless Hail Marys she recites shall redeem her.

For the lips of the adulterous woman drip honey,

and her speech is smoother than oil;

but in the end she is bitter as gall,

sharp as a double-edged sword.

Her feet go down to death;

her steps lead straight to the grave.

She gives no thought to the way of life; her paths wander aimlessly, 

but she does not know it.

Proverbs 5:3-6

She is no better than an adulterer. She may not be sleeping with married men, but still none has been her husband. The feeling of guilt lingers. Yes, she is bitter. But it is not true that she  is careless in the way she plans her life. If anything, should anyone be so unfortunate as to get a glance at her thoughts, they too would drink as heavily as she does. They too would want to seek the services of a therapist. Her thoughts may be the ones to lead her to he grave. Reconciling the life she leads with the one she is supposed to lead is difficult. She just does not measure up. You will see her in church. Crying out to God to forgive her. You shall not know the reason she has tears in her eyes. Even if you ask, she will not tell you the truth. Because she is ashamed. Until that ring is put on her finger, she is living in sin. Until she says I do, everything she does in the dark will continue to haunt her in the day. 

Healing rain is falling down, healing rain is falling down

I am not afraid, I am not afraid.

The choir sing as the pastor makes a call to the altar. "If you are sitting there and you know you are living in sin, make your way forward...Thank you my brother, I see you, my sister...Something is telling me in my spirit that there is someone in this congregation who is fighting inwardly on a certain issue. Do not be afraid. You do not have to fight alone. Walk on forward and allow Jesus to fight that battle for you...."

She hears the words, something stirs in her, but still her feet do not move. It is as though a force is holding her feet down in place. 

Can't I have my cake and eat it too? Must it be one or the other? 

Majesty

Majesty

Your grace has found me just as I am

Empty handed but alive in Your hands

If I were a man perhaps I wouldn't battle with this. But then again, if I were sexually liberated it would not be an issue. Are feminists allowed in the church, even? What are these thoughts I'm having in church? Aaaaargh!!!

We'll sing majesty

Majesty 

Forever I am changed by Your love

In the beauty of  Your Majesty

Lord, I need you to speak to me. I am so torn, so broken...

Still her feet refuse to move. The battle continues in her heart. One day she shall choose a side. Until that day arrives, she shall let this soul crashing pattern ensue. Who shall save her?