Rédaction Africa Links 24 with Daily Nation
Published on 2024-02-13 06:17:43
Valerie Wairimu (22) stands at the heart of the vibrant enclave of Mirema Drive, Kasarani, fondly referred to as ‘Little Las Vegas’ in Kenya. The air is filled with music, laughter, and the promise of romance as the crowd sways around her. She is tall, fair-skinned, and exquisitely curvaceous, exuding confidence as she moves through the throng of people with Kevin, her companion for the night. Kevin carries a bottle of whisky as they navigate through the crowd, making their way to a nearby pharmacy.
As they approach the pharmacy, Kevin hesitates, leaving Valerie to confront the male attendant alone. She confidently requests two femidoms, surprising the male attendant, who sheepishly admits that they’re out of stock. Femidom is the name given to female condoms. Undeterred by the looks of those around her, Valerie continues her desperate search for this vital form of protection. She explains to a reporter from the Nation that she couldn’t understand why people looked at her strangely, emphasizing that female condoms are made for women.
Throughout the night, Valerie and Kevin move from one pharmacy to another, encountering the same refrain of scarcity and indifference. Last year, according to the Kenya Demographic Health Survey (KDHS 2022), only 37 per cent of women in the country used a condom during sex with a non-cohabiting partner, compared to 68 per cent of men.
As they proceed to the next pharmacy, Kevin becomes very restless, announcing that he can’t go around looking for condoms. He leaves Valerie to continue her search and tells her to come to the BnB when she finds them. Valerie expresses her frustration with the attitude of men towards the issue of protection, highlighting that they often overlook the considerations women have before engaging in sex.
Valerie specifically looks for female condoms, also known as femidoms or internal condoms, as they are used deep inside the vagina. She prefers them because they are soft and doesn’t trust the quality of male condoms these days. She recounts stories of friends who got pregnant despite their boyfriends using condoms, suspecting that the demand for male condoms has led to substandard products flooding the market.
She visits five pharmacies in total, but none have what she needs. A pharmacist, Agnes, explains that she stopped stocking female condoms due to low sales and the increased prices of condoms. Agnes notes that young men are more concerned about preventing pregnancy than preventing sexually transmitted diseases and HIV, leading them to purchase emergency contraception instead.
Joy Ogingo, a reproductive health worker, sheds light on misconceptions and cultural barriers that hinder the adoption of female condoms. She highlights the common misconception that condom use reduces sexual pleasure and the perception of female condoms as time-consuming to insert before sex. To address these issues, she suggests comprehensive sex education programs and ensuring easy access to free or low-cost condoms through distribution programs.
As dawn breaks, Valerie’s resolve remains unshaken as she leads the charge into the heart of Nairobi’s bustling CBD, hoping for a glimmer of success. However, the search proves futile, with one vendor even expressing unawareness of female condoms. Valerie’s quest becomes a rallying cry for change, representing the fight for reproductive rights. In the shadows of nightlife and revelry, she carries the hope for a world where protection is not a privilege, but a universal right.
Read the original article on Daily Nation
