Let’s add a para on uncomfortable truths in Bro Code

“Kijana fupi, amenona, round” is a downright hilarious statement popularised by West Pokot Governor John Lonyangapuo. It’s easy to dismiss the “short, fat and round, young man” speech as frivolous but, if peeled back, it reveals an uncomfortable truth about how society treats men and their shortcomings in general.

Think about it. There’s nothing really funny about being short, fat and round, for instance. But the truth about it is depressing. Because research shows that belly fat poses a number of health risks for both men and women. They risk suffering from sleep disorders, colorectal cancer, heart complications and diabetes, among other health complications. Yet a quintessentially Kenyan reaction to an overweight man is to rename him Biggy, Big Daddy, Big Mike, Mzito or praise him for “doing well” or “eating well”. People will laugh about his “public opinion” once in a while, but it will most likely earn him respect too. All ego-boosting. All dishonest.

Women are staunch members of this ego-boosting choir too. They accept praise and accolades for feeding their men well. In fact, a married man who can still fit in his bachelor days shirt is considered a disgrace.

It boils down to how we are socialised. But it is time to cut ties with such dishonesty. Because we need our men healthy, strong and productive and giving them an ego boost when their health and well-being are at risk is a disservice to them. Much as the society has evolved and women are now demanding equal treatment, men are still expected to protect, provide and lead. That’s the generally accepted rubric of manhood.

While definitions and forms of provision, protection and leadership may have evolved, it remains a fact that women suffer terribly when their husbands die. And research has shown that children who grow up fatherless suffer psychological trauma that carries on to their adulthood. In the African setting, a man often has dependents beyond his nuclear family and they, too, suffer when he is gone. A loss of such a life is a huge blow to society.

So why not tell men the truth no matter how uncomfortable it is? Because we have normalised the abnormal. We don’t tell men the truth about sex. A licentious man is likely to be praised for being The Man, which is one of the highest accolades that symbolise a man’s greatness. Even if he was exposing himself to sexually transmitted diseases and putting the health of others at risk in the process. We don’t tell men the truth about alcohol. A man with a drinking problem who drinks so much alcohol that he can’t tell the new Sh1,000 note from the old one will also be called The Man.

This man will probably drive home drunk and regale his drinking buddies the next day with tales about how his car “knows the way home”. His drinking buddies will still call him The Man, because he finished two bottles of whisky all by himself and could not come to work on time the next day. Even if he does not show up at all.

There are endless examples of this dishonesty replicated in matters finances, spirituality and health among other important facets of a man’s life. A man who spends money carelessly buying his buddies copious amounts of alcohol as his wife and children take black tea for dinner is The Man. And the women who are interested in him (or his money) will wildly praise his “generosity,” because he buys them their favourite drinks too. If he does nothing to nourish his spirit, he’s still just being a man, and if his weight balloons, well, he’s just a Big Man but he’s still The Man.

Perhaps efforts to tell men the truth have been stymied by cultural barriers that prevent women from addressing such topics, but what about the men who should be their brothers’ keepers? The famous Bro Code must surely have a paragraph about telling each other the truth about such matters. And if there isn’t, it’s about time the author added a whole chapter on telling men the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it is.