The Duality of Woman
There I was, four hours into a “scenic” road trip through the Great Rift Valley. What was meant to be a smooth cruise to Naivasha had turned into a four-hour test of patience involving slow-moving lorries and the inevitable. I’d cracked my “Passenger Princess” soju a bit too early, the traffic was at a standstill near Maai Mahiu, and there wasn’t a clean petrol station in sight. As I eyed the acacia trees and wondered if I could hover over a patch of grass without being spotted by a passing matatu, the thought hit me: Ugh, I hate being a woman.
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