Virtue and the Virtuous

“Beauty attracts the man but it’s the virtues that keep him. Beauty keepeth no man because it’s in abundance but virtuous women are rare. He who findeth a virtuous woman should cling to her like a tick on a Friesian’s mammary gland for there is no softer tissue to land on than that.” (Chadwick Bironga, 2016). I think Chadwick is right. Chadwick is wise. Chad, the noble one. And yes, mammary glands are soft and tender and wonderful. We all know that, don’t we, ma’men? Mammary glands are good. Mammary glands are beautiful. Mammary glands are productive. But let’s agree not to talk about them today. Let’s talk about virtue.
Virtue. What is virtue? Virtue is a word that may mean so many things to so many people but generally it is a behavior exhibiting high moral standards, and morality is controversial. High moral standards in a normal school may not be perceived as so in a Catholic school and may be seen as total immorality in a convent. I was in a Catholic school by the way; our school motto even had virtue in it. It went, “Knowledge flowers in virtue.” It is a good motto, the best I have ever come across. So good that a school that once came to benchmark copied then pasted it on their walls, right after deleting their own. And I believe that knowledge does really flower in virtue. Now, I am not saying that I am virtuous but I am knowledgeable. I know that Chadwick’s statement up there is valid. And I know that Chadwick is knowledgeable, so maybe I am virtuous after all, even just a tiny bit. That would depend on you, observer and that would depend too on my circumstance.
A virtuous woman can be an occurrence anywhere; in the club, in the classroom, in the matatu…even in the church! (Of course in the church) In the church where it is completely possible to find, by my standards or by any standards in existence, a non-virtuous woman. A slut. A whore (a hoe?) The kind that go to church to check out that new guy in the neighbourhood. She that knows all the men outside the church and so knows that she does not want to marry any of them and so goes to the church to try to know these faithfuls as well. (Men outside the church are not bad men, most of them. They are just real, unlike most of their religious counterparts). She whose aim is to confuse the man of God, to format his brain completely; who makes the mchungaji forget the first thing about the sermon he and his lovely and loving wife had prepared and rehearsed for six days. She who now makes the pastor begin to preach about the love of God.  She who sits in the front row with a short skirt and devastatingly gorgeous thighs. Fisettes.
Just now I am seated next to a man who has quite frankly made my day. He has been on phone and he has been saying this, “kama ulilala na kijana yangu si uongee na yeye na uache kunisumbua mimi…usinipigie simu tena…si uko over eighteen…” and I was laughing- at the subject of the conversation and the man’s tonal variations and his face as he spoke to this woman- everyone was laughing out loud so I didn’t really hear the rest of the conversation. I don’t usually listen in on people’s phone calls but don’t you agree that this one was an interesting one? I couldn’t help it. This was not a good conversation. It wasn’t a comfortable conversation to pay attention to. And it wasn’t normal. Apparently, the woman on the other end of the line was a twenty-three year old lady. I repeat, twenty-three year old lady. I tried to scan for any trace of virtue she may have acquired or contracted in the twenty three years of her life. I am still scanning. Why was she calling this man? He has said some mean things, a lot of mean things. He has quite a sense of humour. But he has left. And I am still scanning.
He has, however, left me wondering about virtue in the salon. Wondering if there is virtue in the salon. Our twenty three year old lass is a hairdresser. I have been in salons many times. Not too many but many times (I hate the pain I go through there; it’s one of the worst few hours of my life). So I have been there. And I have heard things, horrible things. Terrifying things. Things I will not comment on for local and national security. But I have nothing against salon people. I work there sometimes, I can braid. And I have seen upright women, women of substance.
So you see what I am talking about? Virtue is everywhere. When you see a woman in a club, drunk and wasted, do not judge. Know the full story. She is probably doing some research on the effects of alcohol and drugs. She is probably a mystery shopper. She may even be an undercover cop so be careful. She may be blossoming with virtue. She may be the very definition of virtuousness. Virtue is all around us. Find virtue. Identify virtue. Grab a virtuous woman today. Grab and be happy. Grab.

Sharon Koech.