Beauty and the Dress

The Congo is, in accordance with UN statistics, the worst place in the world to be a woman. With more than 1,000 sexual assaults daily, and at least 12% of the female population having experienced rape or other violent assault, it’s obviously a fair label.

What’s almost worse, the country is somewhere around the 1920s in terms of its gender politics: the woman’s role is in the home (though she’s also expected to earn enough money or grow enough food to keep the household going). As an example of this, in the recent elections in two Provinces, with a total of about 25 seats in parliament, not one single woman was elected; in bigger provinces, with about 50 seats each, all except three had less than 5 women (8% was the highest percentage of women candidates). A woman senator I spoke to told me about the time she paid a reporter to interview her on the television (that’s the way it’s done here) during an election campaign. After the usual stuff about what she would do if she was elected, he could restrain himself no longer: “But why do you want to go into politics? Who will look after your husband and children? Who will do the cooking?”

So does this make International Women’s Day a joke, or an important opportunity to make a difference?

Last year I was out of town for it, so I did not know what to expect. But this year I knew something was up when our driver asked for an advance to buy pagne, the highly decorative cloth that women wear here, for his wife and daughters. As a self respecting husband and father he could, clearly, never live it down if he didn’t do so. So another little loan goes down in his pay book and he can proudly go home and do the necessary,

There are certain types of traditional dress that really do something for women. The sari, for example, and the equivalent which is worn in Somalia. In central and southern Africa they wear long skirts and matching blouses, normally with little puffy sleeves and a matching piece of cloth wrapped around the head. It is dying out in many countries, being considered too rustic unless it is for a formal occasion. But here, happily, the tradition survives strongly, especially among the lower middle and working classes. What is absolutely delightful is to see the maids arriving each morning wearing a complete and very beautiful outfit.

When the 8^th March arrived it was clear that the day would be different. All the women in the office wore a traditional outfit, and in the evening one could see crowds congregating outside the Grand Hotel where there was going to be a Women’s Day concert. What was so spectacular was to see so many women all together wearing such a variety of colours and patterns within a style that is almost universal.

Later that evening we drove down the main boulevard, and there was an even bigger showing: hundreds of women in the finest, parading up and down, showing off their latest outfit.

What this mass dressing up seemed to be saying was: “We don’t care about you men. We just want to enjoy ourselves.” Which is a refreshing change from the militant feminism which is associated with the day in some cultures. What a shame that it is only one day of light in a year of darkness for women.