LETTERS: My take on role of dowry in our society today

As tradition evolves, change and some practices vanish from our social landscape. A practice that is seemingly holding on at tenterhooks is dowry, commonly known as ‘‘ruracio’’ in my village. To date, dowry remains at the centre of discussions on its relevance or lack of.

Once revered as a gesture of appreciation and a way of uniting families through marriage, dowry has now been reflected as a money making venture. However, the laborious exercise of negotiating remains an unshakable fixation in African marriages.

In every village we have certified dowry negotiators. The old men have traditional skills to make others pay or reduce the dowry.

In some communities dowry is still highly respected, women largely have no say in the chosen groom. Virgins are known to fetch a handsome amount for obvious reasons,. Times have changed and so should the price of cows for wives.

Back in the day men paid a bride price knowing that they would get a woman who was domesticated. In Kenya today, girls and boys are engaging in sexual intercourse early.

Years back as long as a woman left her family to live with a man; she assumed his family name and became the matriarch who bore him an heir.

She also ensured that he was clean and happy, and returned to a habitable home and warm meal. Very few modern women are currently able to do these. Most of the duties have been left to house managers.

Most marriages are ‘‘come we stay’’ or ‘‘cohabitation’’, which gives a man reason not to pay dowry.

Dowry contributes to sexual abuse and battering among women and denied them the right to own property and the lady basically a community property or asset that can be exchanged. So each dowry that’s paid reinforces a system where women are viewed as second-class citizens.

Women are subjected to violence ranging from brutal beatings, emotional torture, withholding money, throwing them out of the house, keeping them away from their children, keeping mistresses openly, or in extreme cases, using a shoka or machete to kill them.

The woman has to consult her husband to even take out a loan or a specific amount of money from joint accounts, which can be a tall order for financially independent women.

Even then, the independent women who shy away from the strict expectation traditional duties still want their family to receive ‘‘ruracio’’, to prove that they are somebody’s property or taken.

A young man earning less than $200 with bills to pay for rent, groceries and petrol, service loans, and give family members money, you tell me to pay $4,000 plus pay for a tent as well as clothes for a wedding to celebrate a marriage which not even sure will work?.

Although the young man would like to have marriage experience, he cannot afford the whole shebang that preludes this ‘‘till death do us part’’ event.

Men who can’t pay the expected dowry price or who are unable to make additional payments in the future are often subjected to harassment and abuse from wives or in-laws.

Dowries often force poor families to take out loans with steep interest rates, sell off their land to raise money, promise to pay dowries in installments, and other scenarios that can lead to crippling debt.

Many Kenyans have received a message asking for financial help in this. Dowries also deepen class hierarchies. Wealthy families who expect higher dowries essentially exclude those from poor families from asking for a hand in marriage.

Whether it’s a ploy for instant wealth attainment or to hamper man’s progress, it’s evident that dowry continues to be an integral part of the Kenyan tradition and cultural fibre.

At the end of the day, personal choice surpasses the threads of culture. Dowries are widespread and oppressive, but that does not mean the practice is so entrenched that it cannot be dismantled.

Ndirangu Ngunjiri PhD student, University of Nairobi.