Matriarka

Matriarka

‘Why do we have Women’s Day?’ wondered Amock, ‘Women have equal education nowadays, so if they don’t get to the top, its their own fault!’

‘That’s not a fault,’ I said. ‘They don’t compete for the top jobs because they accept that men are supposed to be in charge, and they know we’ll look after them.’

‘Typical of the oppressors,' sneered Jennifer, ‘claiming that the slaves are happy serving their masters! ’

‘Typical of women’s logic,’ laughed Amock, ‘trying to politicise the natural order of things, which began with Adam and Eve. Man is the head of the household!’

‘What complete rubbish!’ Sara scoffed. ‘Have you never heard of Matriarka?’

‘Never heard of it!’ declared Amock.

‘I suppose you dodged Greek history at Munali,’ Sara scoffed. ‘Otherwise you might have learnt of the ancient Greek city state of Matriarka, where women ruled for a thousand years, with men as their slaves.’

‘Maybe,’ said Amock. ‘But a woman still had to bring up her own children!’

‘On the contrary,’ said Sara, ‘that was the job of her husbands.’

‘Husbands?’

‘Oh yes. In those days a man was allowed only one wife, but a woman could take several husbands. This was because a rich woman would need several husbands to produce all the food for the family and to look after the children, whereas her younger husbands would be kept entirely for sexual pleasure.’

‘What! Wasn’t a wife the property of her husband?’

‘Quite the opposite. Women chose their husbands and paid lobola for them. Men had to stay faithful to one wife, while at night the wife could roam the bars and nightclubs of Matriarka looking for sexually attractive young men as additional husbands.’

‘So the man had to try to attract a woman?’

‘Of course,’ said Sara. ‘Young men had to look beautiful to attract rich old women. Whereas women wore complete togas to hide their bodies, young men would parade almost naked, in order to flaunt their tight little bums and flex their pectoral muscles.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Amock. ‘I hope they weren’t completely exposed.’

‘Not completely,’ explained Sara. ‘A man’s bits had to be concealed inside a neat little soft leather pouch. Men would dance and sing and prance up and down, waggling their pouches, to try to arouse the interest of a rich woman.’

‘So size mattered?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Sara. ‘Men would stuff their pouches with falsies, while others even had extensions sown onto their equipment. Fathers would usually hang stones on the end of their sons’ bits, trying to stretch them longer. Young beauty kings would paint their lips and nails red and their faces orange, dye their hair purple, and hang beads from their pouches to make their bits look longer.’

‘And polish their buttocks with beeswax?’ I suggested.

‘Being a sexual slave is a serious matter,’ said Sara sternly. ‘A young man was sought to provide sexual entertainment and fertilization. Any sign of impotence of infertility would lead to divorce and disgrace, and banishment to the village.’

‘Half a minute,’ said Amock. ‘If rich women could afford so many husbands, then there must have been a shortage of men, leaving many women without husbands.’

‘Of course,’ agreed Sara. ‘Poor women could never afford a husband. Instead they would have to visit brothels, where resident gigolos would service them for a fee. A career as a gigolo was the only way a young man could achieve some independence, make his own money, and avoid the sexual slavery and drudgery of marriage.’

‘Wouldn’t the shortage of young men put up the price of lobola?’

‘Of course. Sometimes the shortage was so severe that rich women would buy little boys as young as ten, lock them in the bedroom, and give them pre-pubescent training in the arts of sexual athletics.’

‘Defilement!’ exclaimed Amock. ‘How did these Matriarkal women justify this dreadful sexual exploitation?’

‘They would say,’ explained Sara, ‘that this is the way things have always been done in Matriarka, and that they were looking after their men very nicely.’

‘But didn’t the men revolt?’

‘A few delinquent men, mainly of the gigolo variety, started a masculinist movement, demanding equal rights for men.’

‘And did the Matriarkal government agree?’

‘Not exactly. Instead they agreed to an annual public holiday called Men’s Day, when everybody would be allowed to mention men’s rights, provided they shut up for the rest of the year.’

‘And what were men allowed to do on Men’s Day? Were they free?’

‘Good gracious no!’ laughed Sara. ‘But they were allowed to march past the Great Queen and salute her Female Supremacy, after which she would then give them a good lecture on working harder. Then, as their reward, they were sent to the hospitals and clinics to scrub the floors.’

Amock looked at her suspiciously. ‘Is this real history, or is it a story you’ve just made up?’

‘Even the story of Adam and Eve is not history,’ she replied. ‘Somebody just made it up.’