WOMANIC VERSES

Womanic Verses
AN ANTHOLOGY OF POEMS ON FEMININITY AND WOMANHOOD
Edited by:
Monica Mweseli
Mari Nelson

2
WOMANIC VERSES:
AN ANTHOLOGY OF POEMS ON FEMININITY AND WOMANHOOD
Edited by:
Monica Mweseli and Mari Nelson
© DEVCOM MEDIA 2016
First Published in February 2016
ISBN 978-0-9935237-1-7
All Rights Reserved. This book is protected by
copyright. No portion of it may be reproduced,
stored or transmitted in any form by any means
without the prior written permission of the
publisher.
Published in United Kingdom by
Devcom Media
7 Earls Court
Le Mont Millais
St. Helier; Jersey
Channel Island, UK.
Tel: +441534734735 Mobile: +44782904442
Email:devcommedia.je.uk@gmail.com
Published online @
http://www.slideshare.net/DevcomMedia

3
Contents
Preliminaries Page 1 - 7
About the Editors 7
Introduction 8 - 10
Preface 11
Dedication 12
Poems on Motherhood Page 13 - 30
Barasa Denis Joys of Motherhood 14
Austen Uwosomah Joy of Motherhood 15
Arinze Okeke Never let them Suffer 16
Ifeoma A. Uwaechina Prayer of a Barren Woman 17
Ifeoma A. Uwaechina Godstime 18
Arinze Okeke Remembering her Travails 19
Moffat Moyo Mothers of Africa 20 - 21
Brig Wilmah You are Appreciated 22
M. G. Morgan Back to Mama 23
Nkong Kima Woman "na mami" 24
Ogbo Ugwuanyi Once Upon a Love 25
Ogbo Ugwuanyi Love for His Mother 26
Mari Nelson Dear Mother 27
Mari Nelson Mothers' Day (Nairobi) 28
Brig Wilmah Memories and Longings 29
Brig Wilmah The Hard Way 30
Poems on Molestation Page 32 - 46
Austen Uwosomah Stark Naked in Broad Daylight 32 - 33
M.G. Morgan Feelings Aside 34
Innocent Muhindi Wounded Soldiers 35 - 36
Innocent Muhindi Gender Drops 37
Innocent Muhindi The Girl Children 38
Innocent Muhindi Black Women 39
Boniface Gachugu God Bless these Women Traders 40 - 45
Bore Kenneth A Lament 46

4
Poems on Strength of woman Page 47 - 70
Arinze Okeke Strong African Woman 48
Kufre Okon Asuquo Unique Beings 49- 50
Uchenna Oyali The World's Strength 51
Uchenna Oyali The Weakest, The Strongest 52
Mari Nelson A Woman's Song 53
Mari Nelson A Song to my God 54 - 55
Kukubo Barasa Goddess Of Monrovia 56
Njagi Lawrence The Unsung "Sheroes" 57
Uche Peter Umez Ode to woman as Dora Akunyili 58
Ogonna W. Anunike Amazon Champion 59
Austen Uwosomah Ode to a Sister 60 - 61
Monica Mweseli Comrade Nomzamo 62
Daniel Adugbo Ode to Winnie 63
Daniel Adugbo Immortality of Amazons 64
Daniel Adugbo The Giantess 65
Monica Mweseli Jane Awinja Nandwa 66
Kufre Okon Asuquo Amazons Angels 67
Masumi Odari Obaachan 68
Selina N. Onochie Salute to Womanhood 69 - 70
Poems on Trauma Page 71 - 103
Cyprian M. Mokua Cursed 72
Moffat Moyo Tears for Tomorrow 73
Moffat Moyo Wails 74
Kufre Okon Asuquo Daughters of the Stoics 75
Boniface Gachugu The Street Beggar 76 - 78
Boniface Gachugu I Have to Understand 79 - 84
Monica Mweseli The Street Girl 85
Monica Mweseli My Surprise Guest 86 - 88
Bore Kenneth The Game 89
Austen Uwosomah Bloody Tradition 90
Ya Jallmv Mariama 91
Monica Mweseli Agony of an Encounter 92 - 93
Austen Uwosomah Midnight Travail 94
Arinze Okeke Cracked Egg 95
Barasa Denis A Song Devoured 96 - 97
Constant Ngozi Endangered Innocence 98
L. G. Rucha The Mother’s Agony 99
Barasa Denis Obedience 98

5
Waigwa Wachira To You Monica 100 - 102
Oghogho Irowa Life 103
Poems on Feminism Page 104 - 128
Monica Mweseli African Woman 105
Cyprian M. Mokua I am a Woman 106 - 107
Nkong Kima Singer of Paradoxes 108
Robert Wamalwa Has Come 109
Amanda Foka A Girl’s Life 110
Austen Uwosomah Womanic Verses 111
Beatrice E. Orife Skinny Tomboy Kid 112 - 113
Beatrice E. Orife Purchase 114
Fatou Juwara Destiny 115
Justice Shik African Girls' Right 116
Leena Lelungu Girl’s Appearance 117
Boughwna k. Titanji It's Simple as That 118
Agbor Christine Tahi African Girls 118 - 119
Carolyne Kahduma Distress Cry from a Girl-Child 120
Elizabeth Nkosi Gender Equity 121
Beatrice Umaka Girls’ Education 122
Boubou Keita Educating Girls 123
Viviane Asare, Mari Nelson, Monica Mweseli Girl - child … 124
Rosemary Okeke Sexism 125
Ese Emmanuel Uwosomah Slavery of Self 126 - 128
Poems on Delinquencies Page 129 - 151
Ogbo Ugwuanyi Woman of Left Love 130
Peter C. Mekiliuwa Vamp 131
Moffat Moyo Ugly Slut 132
Kufre Okon Asuquo The Reprehensible Trade 133 - 134
Austen Uwosomah Lady Courtesan 135
Austen Uwosomah Poetry of a Painting 136 - 137
Austen Uwosomah Born-Again Witch 138 - 139
Victor Osy Monanu Lethal Nectar 140
Ese Emmanuel Uwosomah The Bastard 141
Clement C. Idegwu Angelic She-Devil 142
Clement C. Idegwu The Ditched Dame 143 - 144
Wanami John Time 145
Wanami John A Swiftly Dream 146
Faith P. Oneya New Identity 147 - 149

6
Ogonna W. Anunike Spoiler Mummy 150
Monica Mweseli My daughters are coming home 151
Poems on Beauty of Woman Page 152 - 161
Uche Peter Umez Supple Song 153
Oghogho Irowa I am a Queen 154
Uchenna Oyali Woman 155
Austen Uwosomah Butterflies 156
Nkog Kima The African Woman 157
Nkog Kima Roses to Rosie 158
Ogonna W. Anunike This Daughter of Zion 159
Kufre Okon Asuquo The Dairy House 160
Henry Indangasi Your Eternal Wife 161
Poems on Love for Woman Page 162 - 172
Wanami John What Song 163
Austen Uwosomah My Love Friend 164
Austen Uwosomah Romance With A Redeemed 165
Ese Emmanuel Uwosomah My Muse 166
Kufre Okon Asuquo God’s Own Piece 167
Austen Uwosomah Love or Death 168- 169
Moffat Moyo One Second 170
Ogbo Ugwuanyi Love is a Wise Fool 171 - 172

7
ABOUT THE EDITORS
MONICA MWESELI (monicamweseli@yahoo.com)
Professor Monica Nalyaka Wanambisi Mweseli
was born and raised in Kenya where she attended
primary and secondary schools. She got her first
degree from the University of Nairobi. Later, she
proceeded to the U.S.A. for further studies where
she received a Masters degree and a Doctor of
Arts Degree in English from Atlanta University,
Georgia. She has taught at Daytona Beach
Community College in Daytona Florida and taught Literature at the
University of Nairobi where she served as the Head of Department of
Linguistics and Literature. She has served as the Vice Chancellor of Kiriri
Women’s University of Science and Technology, Kenya. She also won a
Fulbright Scholarship Award to attend the International Creative Writer’s
Workshop at the University of Iowa U.S.A. She is a gender consultant,
educationalist and a prolific literary writer with various books to her credit.
Some of her published works include: Imagination of Poets: An Anthology
of African Poems, A Study of Okot P'bitek’s Poetry and others. She is one
of the contributors to an Anthology of Short Stories published by Africawide
Network.
MARI NELSON (mari.nelson@uonbi.ac.ke)
Doctor Mari Emma Nelson was born in the United
States of America. She is a career educationist trained
in the U.S.A. and a licensed teacher with K-12 Life
Certification. She received BA in English from
Greenville College, Greenville, Illinois, MA in
Education (Counseling) from Washington University,
St. Louis, Missouri; and Ph.D. from Ohio State
University, Columbus, Ohio. She is the former
Adviser of EducationUSA, an affiliate of the US State
Department. She is an experienced educational administrator,
counselor and teacher at both secondary and collegiate levels. She has
authored a children's book titled I Don't Want To Go To School (1997)
illustrated by Yina Chang. Dr. Nelson loves Africa and Africans
wholeheartedly. She is a wordsmith who loves God and likes using
words to give shape and meaning to God's ideas. This is evident from
her oral presentations in her church, the university and community.

8
INTRODUCTION
By Monica Mweseli
Lovers of poetry have been searching for an accurate definition of it for
a long time and poetry definitions have not been exhausted yet as there
are many ways to account for poetry as there are poets.
W.H. Auden one of the British Literary critics describes poetry as
“Memorable Speeches.” Mathew Arnold called poetry: “Criticism of life.”
William Wordsworth believed that poetry is: “The spontaneous overflow
of powerful feelings.” Robert Frost viewed poetry as that property of
speech that is “untranslatable.”
All the above and other distinguished critics would agree, however, that
poetry is markedly different from the prose of legal contracts,
encyclopedias, or newspapers. Poetry is more intense than other
writings. It is more intense with feeling and more intense in its
concentration of meaning. Poetry is the true language of emotion. We
have all had the experience of joy, love or sadness so great that no
matter how urgently we need to express it, words fail us. The birth of a
child, the return of a friend after a long absence, the death of a parent:
these events can leave us speechless. At such times, we might wish
we were poets.
Poetry succeeds where ordinary speech fails to communicate those
urgent and subtle feelings that are most essentially human. That is why
poetry is the most enduring form of literature. By saying that poetry is
the language of emotion, we do not mean to suggest that poetry does
not engage our thoughts and ideas. Poets may praise the theories of
relativity and economics as well as the colours of sunset. Like Hamlet,
they may pose an abstract question. To be or not to be, that is the
question. But if the writer does not communicate the emotion of
discovering thought, we are not likely to find poetry in that writer’s work.
Ezra Pound said that: “Literature is news that stays news.” The poet
writes what is most important in a given moment and writes with such
intensity and clarity that year later the verse can still seem important to
a reader. How does a poet do this? Suiting the words and the rhythm of
language perfectly to the experience, the poet says it so that we cannot

9
imagine it being said any better. Poetry then might be defined as a kind
of language that says more and says it more intensely than does
ordinary language.
Poetry is as universal as language and almost as ancient as humankind
is. The most primitive people have used it and the most civilized have
cultivated it. In all ages and in all countries, poetry has been written and
eagerly read or listened to by all kinds of people including soldiers,
statesmen, lawyers, farmers, doctors, scientists, clergymen,
philosophers, kings and queens. In all ages, poetry has been especially
the interest of the educated, the intelligent and the sensitive and
particularly, oral poetry in its simplex forms has appealed to the
uneducated and to children.
Poetry gives pleasure. People have read it, listened to it, or recited it
because they liked it, because it gave them enjoyment. Nevertheless,
this is not all gained. Poetry in all ages has been regarded as important,
not simply as one of several alternative forms of amusement, as one
person might choose bowling, another chess and a third poetry. Rather
it has been regarded as something central to existence, something
having unique value to the fully realized life, something that we are
better off for having and spiritually impoverished without. To fathom the
reasons for this, we need to have at least a provisional understanding
of what poetry is.
I call it provisional because people have always been more successful
at appreciating poetry than at defining it. Mahatma Gandhi saw the poet
as one “who can call forth the good latent in the human beast.” This is
closely related to the view that poetry is that which does not only saves
the soul, but also makes the soul worthy of saving. Thus, poetry
touches our sensibilities. For it to be able to touch our sensibilities,
poetry must have a vision.
A poem is of course, more than written words on a page. It is a part of
live language and speech. Since speech is human talk, behind every
poem there is a speaker. Therefore, the things to look for in a poem
should be approached by first asking these basic questions: Who is the
speaker? Can I describe him/her? What poetic style does he/she
employ in the poem? What is the subject matter of what the speaker
utters? Is there a direct and identifiable character in the poem? Most
importantly, is there a moral (didactic) message in the poem?

10
The above questions are primary, and if you can find answers to them
in a poem you read, then the first step toward your interpretation of that
poem is guaranteed. In addition, the following questions may also be
asked. What is the diction (choice of words), figurative language
(especially sound patterns such as rhyme, rhythm, alliteration,
assonance, consonance etc), imagery (symbolism) and versification
style evident in the poem? How do all the poetic devices and style
applied by the poet in the poem make it perceptible in fulfillment of the
poems overall purpose as intended by the poet?
Though answers to these questions will vary greatly depending on the
features found in different poems, however, at all levels of poetry
appreciation and interpretation, these questions are basic and are what
the reader/student of poetry should find answers to if he or she is to find
a poem fathomable and relevant.
Readers of this book will find the poems in this anothlogy covering a
cornucopia of subject matter applicable to the womankind. Each poem
in this anthology tells its own literature and has its peculiar literary
devices. If any reader would take into account the above-mentioned
steps particularly with reference to asking and finding answers to the
basic questions with regards to the appreciation and interpretation of
the poems in this anthology, the reader will not only find each poem
fathomable but also didactic.

11
PREFACE
The editors have put together poems whose common themes deal with
the girl child and women in one way or another. The themes centre on
from motherhood, strength of woman, trauma, feminism, delinquencies
and so on. The poets use their poems to describe issues on femininity
and womanhood not only from Africa, the Black Diaspora but also from
a universal standpoint. Indeed, the girl child and women the world over
have had problematic experiences and relationships and sometimes
they have had triumphant experiences and relationships. The poems in
this book grapple with such positive and negative concerns
Considering the rapid evolution of new literary movements and cultures,
in this anthology, the poets not only emphasize the vitality of women’s
literary history, the black, the regional, the universal, the working class,
the poor, the non-working class whose efforts are not appreciated but
also they deal with the African traditions. The poets have documented
the many issues relating to the female gender some of which include
deprivation, neglect, genital mutilation, molestation, marriage,
maternity, childbirth, sexism, chauvinism, adolescence, prostitution,
aging, desire, infatuation, faith, witchcraft, death etc.
All poems are original works of the contributors and remain so. This
anthology will help in rousing interest in poetry on women issues
starting from the African region but having a universal touch to all
issues experienced by women the world over.
Prof. Monica Mweseli
Founding Editor
University of Nairobi

12
DEDICATED TO
THE
STRENGTH
OF
WOMAN

13
Poems
On
Motherhood
Page 13 - 30
WITHOUT MOTHERS
THE WORLD
HAS NO
POSTERITY

14
Barasa Denis Joys of Motherhood
JOYS OF MOTHERHOOD
If I should grow up and glow
Dear Lord
Send me your angel of virility
To lodge in my warm womb
To make my inner world wide
If I should join and enlarge society
Heavenly Father
Send me your little angels
So I can experience
The little cries, the great cares
To belong
To this patriarchal society
Whether a boy or a girl
Dear Creator
I wouldn’t mind
I’ve to give birth
In order to be accepted
But do not send me barrenness
Oh Lord
For then, I will be no more
Than the banana stem
In my father’s farm.

15
Austen Uwosomah Joy of Motherhood
JOY OF MOTHERHOOD
Man called me woman
Which means his helper
I must remain his slave
So he won’t let me rule
I must suffer for him.
For his pleasure, he seeds my womb
For mine, I carry the seed
While he knows only ecstatic ejection
For me it is the parturition pleasure
With me, he quenches his piggy libido
With or without my consent.
For investing in my dowry
He adds me to his assets
And he becomes my liability
At his will, I must cook, wash
And open my Sesame
Every night in bed a one-minute man
With thronging seeds that indurate me within
To ignite a new life
That starts to kick and punch
Until I am ballooned like a cow
Then the spasms of labour
Wonderful the pains of trivial
But beyond the travails
There is new joy:
A joy that surpasses natal pains
The joy of motherhood.

16
Arinze Okeke Never let them Suffer
NEVER LET THEM SUFFER
Never let them suffer
They that manage the home front
Teaching the children which way to leap.
They that shoulder the world.
Fending for their husbands and kids.
Despite the exigencies of life.
Never let them suffer.
These faithful camels
Indefatigable in every sense.
Ensuring that homes are cool and safe.
These ambitious and highly favoured beings
For they make life good and interesting.
These creatures from man's rib
Indeed, they are a rare gift to the world.

17
Ifeoma A. Uwaechina Prayer of a Barren Woman
PRAYER OF A BARREN WOMAN
The God that gives fruit of the womb
Sarah beckoned on you for an issue
You hearkened from third heaven
Isaac was the reward.
Hearken unto my cry
Give me just one, only one.
Hannah anchored her hope on you
Didn’t you glorify her?
I am trusting in you alone
Heed to my supplications
Rebecca cried unto you for a child
And you blessed her with two nations
It is my turn to receive blessings
Surprise me now, that earth may rejoice,

18
Ifeoma A. Uwaechina Godstime
GODSTIME
I overheard a barren woman
Alone in her bed chamber
Talking by herself
Desperate to know why she was alone
I peeped in to see
Lo! A baby wrapped in white drapes
Stirred in her arms
The woman cuddled it with joy as she talked
In babyish lingual
I wondered what she was saying
Maybe the baby knew
What with the rapt audience it maintained
My head came out from hiding
And it greeted the woman
She turned and smiled at me
I said to her: “our Lord is good”
“His mercy endurereth forever” she replied
I said again: “your baby is beautiful”
“His name is Godstime” she replied.

19
Arinze Okeke Remembering her Travails
REMEMBERING HER TRAVAILS
Remembering the pains of womanhood
I wept for mother
Reminiscing her sleepless nights
When she laid calm near my sick bed
Paying attention to my many cries
Even when father's voice was high
She stood to render the care.
Replenishing my hope for the future
After the day's fruitless hustle
As my hopes come aflame
Through her words that soothes wounds
Indeed my heart throbs for you
My dear mother
A woman who of great patience
Who never flouts her love for her lad.
Even at the corridor of death.

20
Moffat Moyo Mothers of Africa
MOTHERS OF AFRICA
She had stood times
Hard and unmentionable times
Times of tears and of fears
Times when darkness hovered over our lives
When hunger heaved in every corner of our house
My tummy bulging from malnutrition
She still stood by him those days
And said "God is the healer; He is the provider"
But when times got lighter, brighter, and sweeter
When father thought only money cared for him
For all the largest denominations belonged to him
My mother became one on whom time to waste
As of all women of the earth, she became the worst
Now this is what happened one weekend
I saw from her eyes that my mother had weakened
They were deep sunk as of a dying age
Her face was pale and her lips bleeding
Her feet swollen and her face twitching in pain
As she attempted to smile at me
Well, that's what always happens at weekends
When my father comes home late in the night and drunk
With whom am told is my auntie
Though she joins mum in the bedroom displacing her
Her complaints in the morning
Leads to severe beatings and whippings
Now that this morning she had been beaten to the last
Her jaw broken and bleeding so fast
Her clothes used to mop the blood
From the floor and to remove dust
My mother collapsed with tears

21
Streaming from her eyes so fast
At the hospital, she pledged never to return home
At the hospital, he urged her never to return home
And that's how she disappeared from my face
Full of tears in the eyes
But when we thought all was over
And her voice a song of the past
Her presence a dream just to be dreamt
And my tears almost dry and forgotten
She came home on her clutches
With tears in her eyes full of love
"I come to seek my child"
The love for me brought her back!

22
Brig Wilmah You are Appreciated
YOU ARE APPRECIATED
For all the trauma that you suffer in every breath
Day-in-day-out under the devil's conviction
Singing an apology from nature!
Through this powerful lullabies, mothers
You are appreciated!
Nothing so strong like mothers' love,
Who can be empty but ready to love?
Mother's love is a nature's love
However strong a man is,
Longs for his mother’s pit shortly before his death!
Yes, mothers you are appreciated.

23
M. G. Morgan Give Back to Mama
GIVE BACK TO MAMA
The strong arms
The ones I grew in
Cuddling me when I cried
Lulled me to sleep
Give back to mama
The care she gave me.
It’s a hard task
Child to adulthood
Only one can tell
The pain that all takes
Mama, I’ll be there for you
It’s time I do
Give back to mama.
Nine strenuous months
Sleepless nights she spent
Mama, I admire your strength
One that saw me grow
Thank you mama.
It’s time I do
Give back to mama
The care she gave me.

24
Nkong Kima Woman "na mami"
WOMAN "NA MAMI"
Living in her patriarchal realm
With all its male chauvinistic tendencies
That engenders unavoidable sexist prejudices,
She’s yet a model of hope and assurance
To those sidelined by societal stigma –
It’s certainly true, all woman "na mami".
Amid the Roman soldiers of blood
Where Christ hung dejected in company,
The lady of Magdala and her fellowship
Tendered Mary the lonely companionship;
They felt the pain of childbirth in Mary –
Babies have so testified
That a woman’s bosom o’er flows with milk
That rekindles the zeal of desperate youth
Who find no hope in a stratified realm
Where hope and inspiration are slain –
At nativity, she’s a lamb for posterity
And the glorious lustre for regeneration
Bearing the mass of a dual-sealed coitus
Losing blood and water as Christ on Cross;
Blood and water shed for posterity to live –
It’s certainly true, all woman "na mami"
African woman yet na double mami
Who offers her yam to raise posterity
And soothes them with hope to rinse despair,
A fountain of consolation and assurances
And for all honeydew that overflows –

25
Ogbo Ugwuanyi Once Upon a Love
ONCE UPON A LOVE
I have resolved to run after you
Like a stubborn child
After his mother
On his way a market of marathon miles
On the scorchy sun of arid Sahara.
Go back, the mother tells his child
No, mother you are my mother
Stubborn child tells the mother in tears
I must follow you mother
Where ever you are going
The travails in the trouble
Gives me joy
I love the trouble
Of winning your hard heart
Bouts of patience
Baths my pains
Why my resolve
To run after you
The child cried after the mother
The mother chased her back
The child tried again
And cried again
Behold the terrible heat of arid Sahara
Permitted a loaded mother
To carry her insistent child for marathon mile to market
Such is my story with you
I remain dogged in the desire to dream of you mother.

26
Ogbo Ugwuanyi Love for His Mother
LOVE FOR HIS MOTHER
Forever mama
Ever as this world will be
My love will be
Ever for you mama
Forever mama
Should the earth go
My love will not follow
My love will remain
Ever for you mama
My love for you mama
Who made me all I am
And set me apart from the four
The trumpets of my love will ever sound
And resound to heights
My love for you mama
Who works as if she is born to love
Ands sings as if she is born to sing
Whose love and care have made me king
No mother is better
My memory is rich with motherly love
My life is long story of motherly love
Show me anyone starved of motherly love
I am rich enough to loan out some
Mother if full
Father is half
Without mother
Life is murder
Mama is aging
My love ever fresh and green
Will ever remain young to make mama young
Every day my world and life
Will add to love for mama.

27
Mari Nelson Dear Mother
DEAR MOTHER
Mother of my proper care
Mother of my pain
Mother of all my sorrows,
Who can ever care?
Mother who has wailed for me
Mother who has toiled
Mother whose blood I behold
Source of all my being.
Mother of my daily bread
Mother of my joy
My sweet mother second to none-
Who can ever care like you?

28
Mari Nelson Mothers' Day (Nairobi)
MOTHERS' DAY (NAIROBI)
Mother's Day in Nairobi
A day of joy
A day of cheer
A day that comes once or
Numerous times a year
That's marked not by the calendar
But by the cheer
That my mother’s heart feels
As the glad thought of
My babies draw near
Verna's grin, Denise's smile
Mother's Day memories I hold dear.

29
Brig Wilmah Memories and Longings
MEMORIES AND LONGINGS
The sun that rose and set
That blurred my happy flickers
Mother, I couldn't know for real
Even a strong love has time to walk away!
Something so holding like a mother's love
Times once make it a mere shadow!
You passed out of no wills, mama
Just as you was to obey nature
Leaving me unsheltered in these cold winds
Stresses of the robbed love of this bogged earth
Had me power to resent it
How come would you die, dear love?
Mama now is time enough without pure love
The holding pure voice love!
You left this pain of your womb to waggle alone
Did you really go to a more better place?
A place for soft sunrise and human stars
Like those soft days singing sweet songs of motherhood?
For you never let me lonely but cared for me
Gave me protection all I needed
Thrilling as I fell in temptations
You held on dear queen
So you deserved my soft call of motherhood bedecking
How did I wrong fate that you had to pass away?
Sometimes people see me crying
They don't know and I don't tell them
But then they all have time to feel it accordingly
Without memories of motherhood attention,
Children become shadows of real life,
'Cause mothers’ warnings are the supremacy of parenthood.

30
Brig Wilmah The Hard Way
THE HARD WAY
I know it is never easy for you
Trying hard to mother the world
This world, which sets on bothering you
A world confidently principled by tradition!
You are the mother’s stigma of life
Receivers of world turns and thorns
All the tastes of the world's androcentrism
Setting men as centres of the universe!
Traditions set you on aberrations
From appellations and sexual innuendoes
These religions want you veiled low
Doing gender to die born- to -serve patriarchal
This way is really hard
Being born to hold on anyway!
Have never been a way to brighter day
There is need for new veil for motherhood.

31
Poems
On
MOLESTATION
Page 32 - 46
WOMAN'S RIGHTS
ARE
HUMAN RIGHTS TOO

32
Austen Uwosomah Stark Naked in Broad Daylight
STARK NAKED IN BROAD DAYLIGHT
Stark naked I saw her
In broad daylight stark naked
On a clip shared on Facebook
Then on Whatsapp and on YouTube
Later it went on world news bulletin
And it is still all over the Internet now
That victim of street justice
Whom in the kangaroo court of Embassava
Where street urchins, rascals and scallywags
Men of no class or civilization
On rampage in Nairobi downtown
Acted as Court Marshalls and Sergeants
Passed mob action judgement on a pedestrian
Ripping off her clothes, stripping her
Stark naked in broad daylight
The news says they were vexed by her dressing
And protested against her skirt which was 'too short'
So they harassed and molest her person
Instead of attacking the provocative 'skirt'
They forced her clothes off her by rip and tear
And in a jiffy she was stripped stark naked
Like Eve when Adam saw her in Eden
She was stark naked in broad daylight
As the day she was born in her birthday suit
The pretty shapely lady without any privacy left
Walked amongst the crowd berserk like a nut
With all her dignity freeview to ogling eyes
To shooting mobile phones cameras
And on Internet websites and for downloads
That helpless female is somebody's daughter,
Somebody's aunty, somebody's sister or wife

33
On the other hand, maybe she is somebody's mum
So what if her skirt was too short?
Is it not tailors that sew it?
Isn't what one considers fashion ones own right?
Does freedom of expression not include right to dressing?
The leering touts didn't look away
Not wanting to be stirred to lust
Rather, they looked, lusted and stripped her
No doubt they have mothers if not sisters
Those scoundrels who took out their lust on a mini skirt wearer
If the skirt was their provocation, why attack the wearer?
Why molest the wearer while the tailors go scot-free?
Where they really vexed by her short tight skirt ?
Or aroused by her exposed thighs?
Was it out of curiosity to see more?
Could they not responsibly look away upon sighting?
They wanted to see more
They wanted to see much
They wanted to see it all
Alas! They stripped her naked
Stark naked in broad daylight.

34
M.G. Morgan Feelings Aside
FEELINGS ASIDE
Why should this be so?
That there is always wailing
Who is made happy?
While they suffer
The ones we claim to love.
Animosity to them
Weaker gender is called
Do you agree with this?
My question continues to run
Does it make you happy?
They are our mothers
They are our children
They are our wives
They are our friends
A realization to many
Too hard to see.
Prevailing molestations,
To our loved ones
Beaten and raped
Time has finally come
To close the chapter.
Why, my question goes on
Every dawn, with fresh news
Mistreatment, the weaker gender
Do we see this?
Feelings aside!

35
Innocent Muhindi Wounded Soldiers
WOUNDED SOLDIERS
Wounded soldiers let’s move,
In our newest battalion;
Not of women alone,
But of men and women.
How long:
Shall we watch our women
With their eyes, full of tears:
Starring at blank open space,
After being robbed off their rights.
Wounded soldiers;
Let’s fight to the bitter end.
For the universal betterment of woman rights.
How long shall our eyes see the screens,
Victims of rape,
Police brutality and child labour.
Wounded soldiers:
How long shall we watch,
The frowns of our children,
After the brutal denial of their rights.
Wounded soldiers:
Our bodies are full of bruises,
But the fight is still hot.
Let us crawl on our bellies,
Into the forest of woman oppression,
And flush out all the oppressors,
Through law and justice.
Wounded soldiers:
Our wounds shall heal,
After the bitter struggle.
Hurrah to battle! We shall sing.

36
Hurrah to the big battle,
In unison, our hearts shall sing.
Wounded soldiers,
Let’s spend the last bullets
Of law and justice
For the sweet ‘morrow to come.

37
Innocent Muhindi Gender Drops
GENDER DROPS
Have you heard the blood drop:
Drip!...Drip!...Drip!…Slosh!
From the wounds of human minds?
Yes you have heard,
Or even seen,
The loud shrilling cries,
Tearing through eardrums,
And shattering the minds,
Into endless headaches.
It is our blood,
Blood of womankind,
Flowing from our brains,
Into the river of gender oppression.
They are our mothers,
Sisters and daughters and nieces,
Trapped in gender oppression.
Let’s open our eyes wide,
And be human enough,
To stop gender oppression,
As a blow against humanity in totality.

38
Innocent Muhindi The Girl Children
THE GIRL CHILDREN
Were they born human first,
Then women?
Or were they born women,
Then human?
No!
They were born human,
Yes! Human children,
Grew into girls,
To flower into maturity.
Then:
Why deny them their rights,
Rights for proper education,
Rights against sexual abuse
Rights for proper health care.
Just because they are females.
Let’s put our hands together,
Both men and women,
For the rights of the girl child.

39
Innocent Muhindi Black Women
BLACK WOMEN
They aren’t specimens,
To be bleached white.
But human beings,
To retain their natural beauty.
Not punching bags,
To be beaten red,
But human beings,
To be treated kindly.
Not dreadful islands:
To live in a vacuum,
Nor vacated,
But human beings,
To live in a social life
Not slaves,
To labour for men,
But human beings,
To be treated with dignity and equity.

40
Boniface Gachugu God Bless these Women Traders
GOD BLESS THESE WOMEN TRADERS
Right here in the heart of Nairobi city
Bustling with armies of hustling humanity
Festering in a cornucopia of activities
Matching to and fro
Up and down to unknown destinations
For unknown errands
Right here,
Survive these business women
Within these stuffy dusty streets
Swimming with an indefatigable clusters of clutter
Swingy sweaty busy bodies en-mass
Side by side with endless motorcades
Humming, honking and zooming by
Sending smoke and chugs
Swirling and sweeping through the streets
But blazing in these hot congested streets,
Are the condemned women
In a painful effort to eke a living
They are hawkers; they sell grocery and polythene bags
Finding an easy market within the street masses
But the city council won’t allow them
No hawking in the city!
Council Askaris arrest them on sight
Together with their bountiful merchandize
And bundle them into dreaded council Lorries
But the women must seek their consumers
At places where they believe to find them
Towards evening,
Most office working staff starts filing out
Time to close shop
The streets thus jam with masses of humanity
While traffic jams suffocate all roads out of the city
Passenger vehicles hike fares

41
As the working nation hurriedly walk up and down the streets
Towards various bus terminals
Within, they encounter the street women peddlers
With just the kind of goods they need
The vegetables they have planned to cook for the evening
The under clothes they have been looking for
The toy promised to a young one
And the umbrella they need for unexpected showers
Such is the time,
The seller seeks a willing buyer
Right in the street!
From all manner of vegetables,
Cut, customized, peeled and shelled
Cooked Githeri to various fruits
An assortment of handbags, shoes, belts and underwear
All types and manners of garments
Variety of toys, watches, CDs and DVDs
And all manners of stuff
The squeezed streets thus jam into a minor stampede
Developing into a blown up open-market haranguing din
And in their noble quench to satisfy with a profit,
In their competitive lure for customers
The traders block the streets,
They pester, irritate and heckle pedestrians,
They litter and pollute the city
With a collection of noise, rubbish and nuisance
And in their midst,
Thieves, pickpockets and hooligans thrive
But with transport not always guaranteed until late,
City dwellers must be armed early enough
On what to cook for supper
While others who lack any other time
To purchase households and garments anywhere else
Find street markets convenient for them
For those planning to fix supper,
The city grocery women peddlers come into handy
So, let’s talk about them,
These poor dear women
Who sell foodstuffs to rush-hour city dwellers
Who rarely have the time to visit city grocery stalls

42
The women thus wait patiently
Mostly near bus terminals and PSV stages
Spending until late in the city
Seeking for those who have to cook
But must have something to cook!
Towards evening,
With their tools of trade between their legs
They stand at corners or mile around nervously
Their eyes constantly scanning and combing the streets
Searching and sorting for any likeness of council authorities
If clear, they set their goods on display
They sing their wares,
About their quality, size colour and price
And invite the working-class walking human caravan,
To stop, to listen, to see, to touch, to like and to buy
Which they do without much ado
But on sense or sight of city council Askaris,
The traders grab their crawling toddlers,
Together with their goods and wares
And suddenly vanish in a matter of seconds!
With their tormented babies clinging on their backs
And heavy sacks of vegetables or fruits on their arms
They sprint down or up the streets in abnormal speeds
Criss-crossing dangerously across the streets and roads
Almost being knocked down by vehicles
While knocking out anybody on their way
With city council Askaris right on their heels
Several are arrested
And frog-marched to a tipper lorry hidden somewhere within
While the rest dart into dark allies and corridors
And some squalid backyards yonder
In a second glance, it is as if they were never there
Save for several rolling fruits,
Some abandoned cartons, gummy bags, trampled vegetables
That had been dropped in the mighty rush!
Members of the public are left mesmerized and gawking!
At the corner of the street,
A city council tipper truck is parked
Guarded by several armed policemen
Together with city council Askaris

43
The rest of the crew is on the ground
Stalking, spotting, chasing and apprehending
Grocery peddlers and hawkers alike
A scene of struggling women
Amid steely grips of several men meets the eye
Completely not a friendly sight
Typical of colonial era
Or the infamous Eastern Africa slave trade
Together with their sacks of selling merchandise,
They are thrown up into the hold of the tipper truck
Brashly, brusquely, barbarically
Like sacks of maize
For those with a humane heart,
These uncouth scenes may move one into tears
You don’t feel any better
Watching a woman with a baby strapped on her back
Being thrown manfully into a tipper truck
Like some dead weight container
Becomes even more demoralizing
Watching a group of brutish men
Mishandling and manhandling a woman my mother’s age
Indecently!
One is left to burn in wasted humiliation,
Wasted shame and apprehension
For there is little to do to change the situation
We can only look, shake our heads and take our leave
But the consistencies of these scenes
Have rendered some of us immune
To the physical suffering of fellow human beings
Immune to the emotional, spiritual and psychological impact
These scenes rubberstamp in our lives
Sure enough, another similar scene will be repeated tomorrow
The day before and the day after……
And the rest of us will stand and stare with mesmerized looks
Traders, mostly being women,
Would continuously be arrested, manhandled, degraded,
Assaulted and treated incorrectly
In a situation that warrant serious long-term solution
But little has been tabled so far
Apart from those aggressive arrests

44
That the men on duty greedily and greatly enjoy
And the women continue suffering
While in a fatigue-less effort to sustain the lives of their families
And the country can only watch helplessly
At times,
These women must liaise with the same assailants
To bail out their freedom
Or the freedom of their arrested friends and colleagues
And having no money for formal bail,
They bail themselves out through bribery
Or the known man-woman give and take transaction...
Sexual exploitation or sexual favors?
Is corruption ever going to end soon?
God bless these women
Humiliated for the sake of a family
The street women vegetable peddlers,
Together with all street mothers and families
Are fellow human beings we must remember in prayers
People we must always be ready to help
But in what possible ways?
What has the authorities done so far
To solve this eternal hawking conflict?
Does the solution lie in these damning arrests?
What can the government do to improve these women’s lives?
As citizens of this great nation?
Can they be offered other possible conducive venues
To carry out their businesses in peace?
Who is there for these eternally suffering women?
They must earn a living,
They must struggle for ends to meet,
They must maintain and support a family
In the only way they know and are able to
They must work or starve
But along the way,
There are city council authorities to be wary of
Violent arrests, bail, fine, bribery, extortions,
Sex-for-favour, favour-for-sex...
Where is peace, love, unity and justice?
So far, arrest having not been a solution
What else can be done?

45
Should we continue watching pitifully?
As some streets are constantly reduced into running battles
Who will solve this long-term sore conflict and when?
Who will redeem these hapless women?
From torture, chauvinism and sexual harassment
Who is there to advocate for them?
Can the city council facilitate a suitable agreeable channel?
Where these women traders and the city can co-exist
And mutually benefit?
The women are suffering,
The family is suffering,
The society is suffering,
The city is suffering,
The nation is suffering,
We are suffering!
Who wants to witness these disturbing scenes any more?
Who wants to see another screaming woman,
Being dragged by her tearing apart skirts
And kicked into a tipper lorry guarded by armed police?
In what ways do these occurrences affect us psychologically?
What about the image of this city?
Who is there for the down-trodden woman traders?
God bless these African women
Who constantly loose personal dignity
In an effort to support a family
In occasions where we fall short of fellow human concern
And thinking of others us our own kin,
In occasions where others suffer,
And we fail or are unable to help them adequately
We must ask God to advocate for them
To care, guide and be there for them
God bless these women traders
Suffering for the sake of family.

46
Bore Kenneth A Lament
A LAMENT
So many a day have I endured
The beastly manner I am treated
A day isn't complete until I am battered
And at times left approaching the dead
For reasons that can't be comprehended
Where do I have to get the money
So that you can have milk and honey?
I am not strong enough to work like a donkey.
Neither do I have hands for jobs so many
Isn't your understanding becoming phoney?
Where is the longing you showed me once
Where is the love you had for me once
When you begged humbly for a chance
In the confidence of the two of us, no fans?
What unexpected lessons in life one learns.

47
Poems
On
Strength of woman
Page 47 - 69
WOMAN'S BOSOM IS
AS STRONG AS
THE WEIGHT
SHE LETS LIE ON HER

48
Arinze Okeke Strong African Woman
STRONG AFRICAN WOMAN
African woman:
Indefatigable from dawn to dusk
Fortress of our homes
And custodians of our lives.
But she is identified as a weakling
So her survival is deterred
Even when chances arise
Her opportunity is ruptured.
They said women can't govern well
Liberia has a testimony
An Africa woman the secret
How did it happen?
How come she held the forth?
"Politics is not for women they argued
For they are not strong
And it is a dirty game
That is reserved only for the male.
This is their views and their bad minds.
But the African woman:
She does all from the home to the nation
Characters they mould for the future
To make our race proud in every sense.
Oh Africa leave the women to strive
For they are backbones
That have oiled the wheels
That have kept us going.

49
Kufre Okon Asuquo Unique Beings
UNIQUE BEINGS
I
Night, sweet sacred night of the dead
Dead and calm it was indeed
Stars left out up high alone to merry the moon
A glowing, cooling, smiling belly-filled mother of the night sky
To our night rest colour with heavenly bliss and dreams
Dreams, yes dreams of pastures too green
To our pains accommodate
The plight that rounded us up to this ‘home’
It rendezvous, a piece of hell
II
Then it came like a rocket, no
A tire screech, no!
A locomotive jam couldn’t be!
A wild riffle rumble
No, not all that
But my eardrum thwacked!
This thunderous tumultuous temple
My belly threw up
My breath abruptly held
In the eerie that was the sound
Of a hapless helpless human.
III
Then therein surged the boss
And his white-robbed angels who no much could do
To the heralding havoc halt
As destiny alone was in control
And fate, the protocol officer.
IV
In taut, we rose all in consolidatory sympathy
As it slammed on harder into the nightly still
Emitting in various format

50
Moaning, screaming, wailing.…
Tears, sweat, saliva….
Urine, blood, placenta….
Then a tiny voice cried
A nine-month load, just as it came
A one night done deal
V
The ward door flung open
There lay the ‘heroine’, all in all
An innocent-faced comely goddess
Merged and messed in her own blood
A war, of course, so bloody it was
A battle to beat fate, to meet destiny
A date with God, only this folks have ever had
But in great sacrifice of pains and blood
Unique are women, for they procreate earth.

51
Uchenna Oyali The World's Strength
THE WORLD'S STRENGTH
The creator made her
To continue creation
And made her forbears
Suckle at her feet
No door remains locked
When she knocks
And no buttocks sits
When she enters
The strong and the mighty
Pay homage to her
And the warrior
Gets his strength from her
Warring nations make peace
When she wades in
They call her weak
The ignorant
For in her frailty
Lies the world's strength

52
Uchenna Oyali The Weakest, The Strongest
THE WEAKEST, THE STRONGEST
The last of creation
The weakest, the strongest
Ever seen a lion she cannot tame?
Or a lamb she cannot give claws?
She breathes peace like air
Trembles when storms gather
However, give her arms
And the warrior’s feat
Will be commonplace
Has she fought a war?
In addition, the enemy camp is undeserted
I tremble at your power
I adore your grace.

53
Mari Nelson A Woman's Song
A WOMAN'S SONG
Lord, help me love
Even when I don't understand
Help me to be kind
Even when I don't understand
Help me to be not proud,
Nor puff’d up nor envious
Even when I don't understand or
Feel that I have enough
Help me to behave myself
Unseemly, to seek not my own
To be not easily provoked;
To envieth not;
To rejoice in truth
To beareth all things
To hopeth all things
To endureth all things
Even when I don't understand.

54
Mari Nelson A Song to my God
A SONG TO MY GOD
Early do I seek thee
Early when I rise
To talk to you, to feel your presence
As I talk to the day and its surprise.
Each and every day you send
I praise thee, O GOD
Even in the minds of my sin
My praise is to you, O God, Yahweh, Jehovah,
Alpha! Omega! The Beginning! The End!
God, guide my day
In the right way
Help me on THE path to stay
It is for this I pray.
Keep me when I cannot sleep
Keep me, Lord
I pray
Keep me when I cannot weep
Keep me, LORD
I pray
Keep me when I feel defeat
Keep me, LORD
I pray
Keep me, O' LORD
Do bless and remember
All of the people on
My list
Please no one miss
For we are all in need
Of your mercy, grace and
Kindness
As we grow and move
And are in need of
You and the stillness
In the stillness is the light
In the stillness is knowledge of right

55
In the stillness is strength and might
In the stillness is clear sight
In the stillness.
O’ I love you with all my might
For what you do for me in both the day
And the night
For holding me tight
For holding me close
For experiencing the heights
For experiencing the lows
For challenging me, making me stand tall
For dusting me off, picking me up and cheering
Me on after the fall
O I do love you with all my might
For what you do for me in both the day
And the night
For holding me tight
For holding me close
Keep me O’ LORD.

56
Kukubo Barasa Goddess Of Monrovia
GODDESS OF MONROVIA
Darkly and stealthy:
The goddess of Monrovia
Awakens
Drained
From a long seasonal siesta
Foulest or purest
She has to be
For as she stirs
For a splatter
This deluge of eminence
Rants and roars with rage
Cracking the sky
Into mortal zigzag streaks
Unleashing majestic showers
Lapping the Harmattan
With feral velocity.
The gale on the heaven's gorge
Rocks even the black granite or
Monsterrado.
The palms quivering in fear
Sands caking in recoil
Lappas flap
Surfs rage, surge an' boil
Still
Wails sand howls in rage
Sweeping like mad
Athwart the peninsula band.

57
Njagi Lawrence The Unsung "Sheroes"
THE UNSUNG "SHEROES"
Even before the cocks think of crowing
She is up
Even before the stars hide in the blue valves
Breakfast is served
Poor her
Sleep is a luxury she cannot afford
Under the unforgiving African sun
She heads for the Shamba
She tills
She digs
She weeds
And when the shadows begin to lengthen
She heads for her ‘
boma’
To welcome her kids from school
With a smile so bright it blinds
She does all the work
Without uttering a word in protest
Pity on the married spinster
All the credit goes to her phantom husband
Hurrah! For the African "Sheroes"
Three cheers for the unsung heroines
Hip, hip...hip! Hurrah!

58
Uche Peter Umez Ode to Woman as Dora Akunyili
ODE TO WOMAN AS DORA AKUNYILI
Stand tall, woman as Iroko
Branches of virtues extend unto the air,
Dwarf all those phoney peddlers of ethics.
Stand aloft, woman as eagle,
Wings of tenacity spread in the sky,
Soar above the diseased disciples of transparency.
Stand firm, woman as rock,
Stone of fortitude cast in the sea,
Solid against the crooked crusaders of truth.
Stand bright, woman as sun,
Rays of insight lengthen in the dawn,
Radiant before the benighted believers of probity.
Stand woman, wisdom of Esther,
Courage of Cleopatra,
Fame of Sheba,
Stand Dora, in this troubled land of waves,
Brandished as a sword
In the face of our flowering dawn!

59
Ogonna W. Anunike Amazon Champion
AMAZON CHAMPION
Moneybags shiver with cold,
Dubious manufacturers dread,
Drug barons piss
Hell fire is her net
The great Amazon champion.
The Machiavellians on prowl
mined to check.
Fight back to finish:
Arson to various agency labs.
Threats to her life and family
In resilience, she stands to conquer,
Afenifere reared queen Moremi
Queen Amina for Arewa
Ohaneze stars Dora
Toast to amazon citizenry
Amazon of drug and food agency.
By His grace, my salvation
The grace grants this union
I can’t have it better elsewhere
Blessed is this daughter of Zion
Unreserved love I pledge.

60
Austen Uwosomah Ode to a Sister
ODE TO A SISTER
Born without a silver spoon
In the abode of a stormy home
Suffered under maternal entreats
The quest for education, a solace.
Left home to school,
A teacher’s college.
With insufficient funds,
And temptations from Methuselahs
Wondering what to do,
Where to go,
And how to go.
No consolation from home
Mum and dad at logger heads,
Then at daggers drawn.
The spiritual attacks,
From coven cauldron conferences.
And the remote sensored visa.
Confusion ached the head
Worse than a migraine
The turn to the Saviour
An analgesic came in Away-Away
The magnificent magic hubby
Who used Cupid’s bow.
To Brooklyn, to settle.
The breadwinner’s burden as sarong.
Incredible the load,
Unwavering the pressure,
The stress consistently constant,
But the bull was taken by the horns.
Amidst domestic hazards and travails,
The siblings here had education

61
A trio graduate, your effort
From boys to men, you made us
And sweated so we may be refreshed
Didn’t you give us the best
From among the best things on earth?
We are schooled, we have worn the academicals
We can’t ask for anything greater
Haven’t you done it all?
You're the Greatest of all the great amazons,
Doris you are blessed!

62
Monica Mweseli Comrade Nomzamo
COMRADE NOMZAMO (WINNIE MANDELA )
Comrade Nomzamo
Your name Nomzamo,
Which means one who strives or undergoes
Trials was surely prophetic of your life
Indeed, you were dazzling
As Nelson Mandela felt when he first saw you
Your spirit
Your passion
Your youth
Your courage
Made Mandela loose a heartbeat.
Despite the love between the two of you
The struggle for liberation of your people could
Not let your love grow.
You tirelessly supported your husband
When he was in prison.
Yes, Comrade Nomzamo
You single-handedly raised your children
For your husband was fighting to be the
Father of a Nation,
You endured presentations ‘n’ intimidations
Heaped upon you by the government
You did not waver
Your husband, Mandela, respected you for this
Your endurance attracted the
Admiration of the world to you.
Indeed, your life was a prison
But it even became more difficult when
Your husband was released
What an irony?
Many expected a happy ending with Mandela
But what happened?
Why?
Why?

63
Daniel Adugbo Ode to Winnie
ODE TO WINNIE
Amazon-black liberty her stance
Fought for us this freedom needful as air
Rebelled segregationist with fierce flare
Emblem of racist defiance, woman of substance
Mother figure for black in Diaspora, in the distance
Sooth skin as emblem of human specie was her flair
Foreign bastards, originators of shadows she stare and dare
Victim of imperial callousness for her defiance
Dances to no racist tune
And not a soldier of fortune
For being a Cinderella to dewy-eyed brethren
Winnie Madikizela Mandela
To you is this a cappella.

64
Daniel Adugbo Immortality of Amazons
IMMORTALITY OF AMAZONS
Stones rot
Beings rot
Their cadavers turn speck of dust
The earth will still and rust
Better, a feminine thought than power
Than the Eiffel Tower
Than our president's effigy
Than Kainji
Is there one here like Yaa Asantewa
Like Queen of Sheba
Is there another like Queen Nerfititi
Death defaced their plaque
Torrents of rain erased their epitaph
Their legacies jog our memory
And is their any like Johnson Sirleaf
Like Gloria Aroyo
Their fierce fight for feminism
Still jog our memory

65
Daniel Adugbo The Giantess
THE GIANTESS
Home again after seasons out
Time had whittled to mere dust
Mountains ascending the earth’s crust
Had fertile soils worn out
Once raging river now gently sail alone
Skyscrapers now swallowed by flood
Water thicker than blood
With weed the king's
Castle is overgrown
The blighted sun blaze blearily
To all these I ponder wearily
Everything had crumbled heavily
Only the giantess-my mother
Remained together
With her skull brimful of
Feminine splendour, filial ardour
A thousand broad-chest men
Strained to lift her up then
As they wrestled in bouts
For her maiden pride.

66
Monica Mweseli Jane Awinja Nandwa
JANE AWINJA NANDWA
Gone but not forgotten
Yes parting is a sweet sorrow
Sweet because you have left your smile behind
Sorrow because I will not see you
Until we meet in Heaven.
Yes, Jane
Do not go gentle into that goodnight
Because you are a fighter!
You taught me that life is a fight.
You taught me that life needs courage!
Yes, my last moments with you are still with me.
We shared so much.
Oh! About your undergraduate days.
Oh! About your teaching at K.U.
Oh! About your study in Canada.
Oh! About your struggle in life!
Courage, perseverance, determination
To advance towards excellence, strength
Love and sharing you taught me.
Surely! Because you could not stop for death
He kindly stopped for you!
(A Dedication To Mary Nasimiyu Wayabila -A Dear Sister,1967- 2003)

67
Kufre Okon Asuquo Amazons Angels
AMAZONS ANGELS
Oh, the light-voiced diamond creatures
Man’s shoulders for ages infinite
Products of divine wisdom
Yet society’s underdogs
Its hope of existence, yet, her heavy-laden
Oh, these angelic man’s second placers
Her half’s artisan per excellence
Nature’s free but priceless gift to make us whole
Little wonder her abuse and misuse
Oh woman, man’s brazened bones in broken days
Who in his weird mentality a life esoteric only deserve
A second classed not-fit-for-education beings
Exalted only for bed and kitchen value
Yet, in her ever-receptive bosom, he finds solace, vigor
After life’s whip, a fruitless day’s struggle
Oh, men’s women of substance and virtue
Bearers, tender and raisers of the world’s future
Brought of man but never bonds of him
Even nature, your prowess salute
Man’s unknown angels, all praise thee
At what are you handicapped?
In nasty thorns of voicelessness, do you lay no more?
Winners of bread for many mouths indeed
Colossus at political arenas
Opinion leaders where your fellows failed
Indispensable voices in humanity discuss
I jam my hands and bow in this humble ovation
God bless you, our bellies of hope
Great Amazons angels of this world.

68
Masumi Odari Obaachan
OBAACHAN
Obaachan
My dearest grandma
You are the woman I am proud of
You single handedly nurtured me
And brought me up to be who I am
You taught me how to be strong
but with compassion.
When you faced difficulties in life
You laughed them away
Sayong “winter will always turn into spring
”
.
You helped me turn my disadvantages into advantages
And told me to be proud of who I was
Like the sunflower which always shine.
When I used to complain that I
Could not get better marks
You always used to tell me "study
Harder than anybody else"
That those who put effort will at the end win,
You believed in my potential
And though you were strict at times
You never failed to encourage me.
But the most precious treasure in you was faith.
You taught me to have faith in myself.
And appreciate everything
Around me as opportunities to grow.
A Japanese saying says
"Children grow looking at their parents' back"
How many times have I seen you bent till late at night
Sewing skirt after skirt to make ends meet.
Each time I will look at you and quietly shed tears
"I will be successful and take care of my Obaachan"
Those were my prayers and dreams
Now that you are gone
I hope and pray
That all that you taught me and gave me
I will be able to share with my children
And the generations to come.

69
Selina N. Onochie Salute to Womanhood
SALUTE TO WOMANHOOD
See them.
Hewers of wood,
Drawers of water,
On 911 trucks and trailers,
Exposed to the elements,
Some with grossly increased girth,
Some with life strapped at the back,
Some breast-feeding the life.
En route destination,
Searching for almighty Naira
To sustain the family.
See them at construction sites.
They have become cranes.
They have turned to trolleys,
They have become forklifts,
Carrying plain sand.
Carrying sand mixed with cement
Carrying blocks, bricks
Transferring all from spot
To first floor, last floor.
On bare heads!
The head, which wears the crown
The head, the peak;
So that the family income
Will acquire secondary thickening.
See her,
In the scorching sun.
Walking the length and
Breath of the environ,
Her feet grumbling
Her footwear gaping in revolt
Wares, heavy on the head,

70
Child, heavy at the back.
A mobile advertiser
Shouting herself hoarse,
Begging buyers to rid her
Of the excess luggage.
Salute to our women!
For the hungry mouths must feed,
The curious minds must receive education,
Dependants must not die of want.

71
Poems
On
Trauma
Page 71 - 103
WOMAN'S LIFE IS
ENTRAPPED BY
SEVERAL
COMPLICATIONS

72
Cyprian M. Mokua Cursed
CURSED
Lead me not to the wretched world
The world full of fool creatures
Who in appreciation
Appreciate bias in their minds
That one wrongly created
In their inferior minds they measure being.
I as they mention the cursed icon
Their burden as load I carry
Their full tummies, am to cater for
I the lady, watchlady to their valuable homes
The misery of those leering looks
The litter in the superior tradition
Who among these creatures will prove?
Who among them differentiate us?
Who among us is cursed?
Will they tell my deficiency?
For am worthier in some fields they agree
Cursed are they that curse me
The fate of two sex creatures
Who between them is the world wretched?
When time comes please answer
For the foolish tradition continues to lie
That the cursed might be me of the weaker sex
I doubt their discovery in my own words
They are the cursed.

73
Moffat Moyo Tears for Tomorrow
TEARS FOR TOMORROW
I shed my tears for tomorrow today
For tomorrow I will not be there to shed them
My tears for a tormented tomorrow
A tomorrow torn apart by terrible wars
A tomorrow torn by power-hungry tyrants
A tomorrow without wailing women anymore
The women who have been raped rapidly
By war-loving African men
Wherever they pass
They leave a trail of blood
And a heap of bodies in blood
Weeping women and girls
Raped women and girls
Widowed women weeping
And dying orphaned girls
Infected with the vile virus
I shed my tears for tomorrow today
For tomorrow, I will not be there to shed them
After the wound on my genitals
Catches on with my bleeding sorrowful heart
I shall go, I shall leave
And leave behind my tears for tomorrow
If that tomorrow shall ever exist
As my wail echoes in the forests
Where the virgins with sealed pudenda
Were crashed into and when they bled to death
Earth tasted their bitter agony
The earth and the forests are now bitter!
I shed my tears for tomorrow
When the warlords shall face trial
But the soft-hearted woman will not be there
To seek their pardon
As we shall be eaten down in death
And forgotten by history
Therefore, I only have today
To shed my tears for tomorrow

74
Moffat Moyo Wails
WAILS
Your wails are sharp child,
Sharp striking my soul
O' child, your wails are ripping the airs
Your wails reach to all grave yards
My blood still runs
It runs dripping from my rotting womanhood
The blood of your birth
Now as my memory rekindles my soul
Now as my bleeding heart reawakens
To your tearing out of me
Between my legs your weak wail
Yet, you are put in a black plastic
With suffocation oh!
Thrown in the trash pit
And your wails
Wails still reaching me deep even in my sleep
Horror of my soul, your wails
Blood to my life, your wails
That weak wail you wailed
Still lives in me
Eating me up slowly
Killing me softly
Eroding my breath
As I slowly slide into death
Your wails are still wailing in my soul.

75
Kufre Okon Asuquo Daughters of the Stoics
DAUGHTERS OF THE STOICS
Seasons of sorrows of grenades and shells
Black woman of the warring world
Webbed in amidst to gnash down hell
Plighted in the torture with misery as sinew
Her head, to his riffle now a bosom LORD
An unholy matrimony blessed in the creeks
A killer ricochet on her joy oh mothers of love
Her suckling, turned urchins and leaches
Oh, age long camels of turbulence,
Virtuous lilies of the African jungle
Exodused by slugs and slum politics
En route deserts and forests
Your mercy at the sting of scorpions
And the paws of lions lie
A hopeless chequered tomorrow you see
Right and joy-denied Freetown bearers
No worth a frank but fleshy pleasure tools
Used, misused, overused, man and beasthandled
To whom would she weep and justice unveiled
These victims of war!
Oh, black pearl of power haunting swine.
If only you could see beyond the jungle wild
If only you could smell the harmattan’s hostility
If only you could feel the rapist grip
If only you could taste but your meal of saltless toads
And hear beyond the drums of war
There cometh sun breaking forth through the storms
Joy in the morning lies after an evil night
There is the hope of glory right in you
You our dignity and pride cannot deny
For no one is, needless how great
That was not cuddled in the back of yours
Blessed be thee, daughter of the Stoics
Bearers of all things
Sufferers in silence.

76
Boniface Gachugu The Street Beggar
THE STREET BEGGAR
My mum and I,
Were walking along the street
Her hand firmly gripping mine
And towing me alongside
While I, unaware of the ultimate destination,
Followed meekly, my curious little eyes
Gawking at the big busy city
Near the end of the street
We stopped by a peddler
And my mum immediately got engaged
In a frenzied loud bargaining process
While I, standing by her side,
Prosaic and oblivious of the haggling process,
Gazed along the street,
And saw the beggar
Propped against a wall,
Sat a crone,
Dressed in rags, dirty and disheveled
With a heap of sleazy polythene papers,
Piled up tightly on top of her head
Looking so royal,
Like her majesty’s royal crown.
The old lady,
Displayed grotesque limbs,
Sewn with bizarre ugly-looking scars
Festering with pus-oozing wounds,
Between her legs
Was a small dirty bowl,
Housing a few old coins,
That looked as if they had been there
For the last five years!
The beggar stretched a groggy hand
That hoisted a few crooked pathetic fingers,
Horribly facing all directions

77
Like the points of a complex compass set!
The hands were covered with agonizing cracks
Gully-like, filthy with oozing pus
A wild army of gigantic flies,
Kept circling the beggar,
Like vultures spotting a dying buffalo
I felt such pity looking at this poor woman,
The way she was gnawing her toothless jaws,
Made me feel the hunger she must have had
I felt her pain and agony
And my heart bled with pity
Her eyes, hooded with wrinkled lids,
Gazed expectantly at the busy pedestrians passing by
But not even one chanced,
Glancing at her direction
Such is the pity I felt,
My eyes became cloudy
And tears started brimming in my eyelids
I longed to see that woman beggar,
Like my mama,
Dressed in a white chiffon dress
Instead of those filthy rags covered with grime
My heart ebbed with pity
For that poor woman,
Trying unsuccessfully to chase the hounds of flies
That were pestering her like fresh faeces
I wanted my mum, like myself, to feel mercy
And help that lonely wretch
I wanted my mum to feel
That entirely feminine unique pity and sympathy
For her fellow woman
As I stood there, transfixed,
With sad feelings and pity,
My mum grabbed and yanked my hand,
And we started walking towards the woman
I thought she too had pitied the beggar,
And was going to aid her
But to my utter shock, disappointment and disgust,
She towed me hurriedly –
Past the poor beggar whose crooked hands,

78
Were outstretched to us… begging….begging
Begging for some help
While mum and I zoomed by,
Without the briefest glance
Towards the poor beggar
My mum looked past…passively
She wouldn’t risk facing the slime-covered beggar!
I followed absent mindedly, sadly,
Tears of sympathy blinding my vision
My heart stretched to breakpoint
Grieving for that poor woman
Who was there for her?
I felt so so very sorry.
“Oh Sonny, what is it you want?
You want a sweet or a biscuit?”
Mama asked, noticing my wet eyes
“Nothing,” I retorted
I couldn’t understand how she couldn’t understand
“It’s that woman beggar,” I wanted to tell her
But I didn’t, I couldn’t trust my voice
Mum stared at me, concerned and puzzled,
In a rush, I felt my tears rolling down swiftly
And multiple sobs shook me uncontrollably

79
Boniface Gachugu I Have to Understand
I HAVE TO UNDERSTAND
I loved him first,
Loved him when he was young affectionate and caring
I loved him to the point of wanting nothing else in life,
And he loved me too,
I got lost in his gentle fervent loving
Drowning in his deep melodious voice
While melting upon his electrifying touch.
And nothing was so beautiful
There was no better reason for living
God knows, I could’ve asked for nothing more
Life had such a sweet definite meaning then
But now, I guess things have taken a confounding new direction
Though he is still the same man, my husband
Changed he has, changed completely
He never holds me tenderly the way he used to
Never seeks my opinions, comments and remarks
Doesn't ask me how my day was when we meet in the evening
Like he use to,
While almost everyday, I never forget to ask him about his
Just walks in, haggard and beaten like a coward soldier
Wordless, sometimes dragging his feet like an old
But I have to understand.
Frequently, he comes late with a hanging head,
And silently drops his bum within the nearest seat,
Then one by one, the electronic gadgets materialize
The laptop, the calculator, the mobile phone
And a marathon beehive activity gets ignited
Revolving between chain-like phone calls
Dizzying complex calculation and vigorous typing
He’s surely turned workaholic
But I just have to understand.
Works almost half the night,
I sheepishly engage him in simple chitchat
But he’s not listening, not even looking up
I serve him a very delicious sweet-smelling meal

80
He eats absent-mindedly, mechanically
Not even noticing whether its stew, Ugali or Githeri
I feel so bad
Sometimes he comes homing in a whole train of stress
Screaming at anyone who dares have any say
Growling at the announcer on the television,
While snarling viciously to the kids
He raves, trying to provoke anyone to dare him
I try, tolerating and holding up my nerves
In the name of with-holding his bad moods
See, sometimes its pure pain
At times he comes with a soft heart
Eager to show me some affections
Only he does it weirdly
Not like he smoothly used to do
Picks a quarrel out of nothing worth quarreling at
And yells his head off
Only to apologize later
And silently beg for my cuddling
While beseeching me to understand
Gets tricky, but I must understand.
Then come bizarre nightmares
When he goes to have a drink
“Two for the road,” he lamely blurts to me,
And comes back late, rude and disheveled
Wafting offending alcoholic fumes
While dropping any vulgar word that materializes in his head
Sometimes,
Attempting to grope me anywhere, anyhow
I choke with anger and fury
To hell with understanding!
A time, drowned from alcohol, he pukes all over
Even attempting to pee behind the door
Only to embarrassingly explain later he took it for a bush
Sometimes it’s all horrible, unthinkable and traumatizing
Tolerating all the boggling stupid alcoholic foolhardy

81
Drives me to the grave
Am left thinking I got married to an alcoholic fool
Understanding not withstanding!
But I must move on
Sometimes,
Minor, trivial mistakes and problems
Get magnified gigantically
Small differences and conflicts congregate to form mountains
Until I feel like crawling into a hole
I am left wishing I were never married
Atimes understanding and reasoning is no longer with us
Sometimes I am left bored and tired of him
So disgusted I feel like taking my leave
But he’s my man
I just have to persevere and understand.
Sometimes, rarely though,
He reverses to his old self
Spending hours chatting with me
Joking and carrying on like an excited adolescent
Takes me out to dine and stay late
While possessively holding my hand caringly
Appreciates my cooking, wardrobe and bed making
And appreciates me,
Drives me a thousand love miles
I feel like am in honeymoon then
Aha! Sometimes,
He is all love and tenderness
Buying me precious presents and gifts
Cherishing my companionship, always a step behind me
Sometimes I feel so happy I shout with joy
Other times I remain sulking and vexing
Blaming him for every little trivial mishap
Or when things aren't working in a humdinger way
True, they said marriage is not a bed of roses
But I just have to understand these situations
A time after some drinking sprees
He comes back smelling strange perfumes
Sometimes I overhear some maddening information
Of him and some young lascivious nymphet

82
Then I turn a frothing ferocious lioness
Easily feeling like castrating him at night
But after stormy days of confrontations
I just cool myself wisely
Oh God, it won’t do if I just packed and left
Sometimes when we solve and link again,
I just have to accommodate
He is my man, my family, must try to understand!
Come worse nightmares
When this man, my husband, turns a pillar
As expressionless as a wall
Staring at me like a statue
All his speech converted into carelessly thrown monologues
And seems there is nothing else to talk about
I try, all feminine formulas known
But he behaves feelinglessly
I am left to comply along
Begging, begging
So discouraging and disheartening
But I must understand
Then comes a time
He is all physical, aggressive
Swelling bravely at the slightest provocation
Parading himself with zeal and zest
Like a goody goody cockerel
Commanding such indefatigable fun
That sometimes drags me all the way to paradise
Making me feel like a naughty youngster
I feel so ecstatic, enthusiastic and titillated
While sometimes I couldn’t care less
I feel pushed to the edge
But I just have to carry along
Understanding could be irksome
Many times, nagging infinite problems blossom everywhere
Sometimes nothing is working well anymore,
I am left with poignant bitter feelings and wishes
Sometimes I just want freedom and separation,
Sometimes I feel bagged and housed like a slave
Sometimes I am all mad and aggressive

83
Feeling rebellious and broody
Seems ridiculous and nonsensical,
He must understand too
I miss the good old days
When there was just the two of us
Young, rampart and intoxicated with love
And we would care less
When it seemed honeymoon lifelong
And the man was all love and companionship
Used to keep me well updated
I hate the man who he is nowadays
Content, impalpable, humdrum, sure of himself
Formal, serious and dead busy
I hate, I hate, I hate, I despise these characters.
But, God knows
I just have to kow-tow and accommodate
I just have to understand life isn't a lifelong honeymoon
I must understand happiness is a section of love
Otherwise suffering, tension, hostility
And pain goes with love
I must learn that love and hate goes side by side
We are married, in agreement to stand by each other
Through thick and thin,
Through good and bad times
Till death do us part
I just have to be ready to accept all of him
And him to accept all of me
We just have to comply and understand each other
I must understand not to follow outside judgment
For I have received absurdly disintegrating advice
They open their mouths in wide exclamations
Your husband is this, really?
They will pressure me to leave him alone
Terming him in-compatible and contemptible
So they’ll say – actually breaking my marriage
But would they be affected?
Would their children be displaced?
They just talk, not caring about the outcome
I must learn to make my own decisions about my marriage
I must understand this man, my husband

84
I must stand by him with calmness
Giving him all my devotion, attention and thoughts
Loving him with all my soul, strength and body
I must not entirely listen to the advice of society
After all, they weren’t involved in my marriage contract
They were just mere witnesses
Where we met, agreed to marry
They have not a clue
Let them judge me native, typical and old fashioned
But my dear Lord, my husband
I bow, I worship your majesty
I am going to train myself to accept this man
Nourish and nurture whatever good of him there is
I must learn to maneuver and sail over problems
I must learn to accommodate the downs with understanding
While cherishing and fostering the ups
I must learn to trust in him.
Drag myself even when I feel low
Be ready to be there for him
And he should do the same too
I should teach myself to correct him
In a calm soft manner, avoiding mocking and criticizing him
And I should avoid nagging, fussing and bragging unnecessary
Outmost important, I must understand
Or persuade myself to understand;
UNDERSTAND,
For things to flow synchronizingly, uniformly
And he must understand too
And change these manners I find irritating
I, his: he, mine: we must both understand
For the wonderful good of us.

85
Monica Mweseli The Street Girl
THE STREET GIRL
Dear God,
I am a street girl
I am poor and rugged
I live in the garbage heap
I sleep on verandahs of shops
I feed in the bins
I drink water from sewage pipes
I beg in the streets
Some good Samaritans give
Some snub me and tell me
To go to school
How can I go to school
I do not have parents
To educate me
Or if I have, I do not know them.
Or do they know me and where I live?
I need clothes to replace
The dirty stained once I have overused
I need shelter
I am tired of sleeping in the cold
Where men rape me and
I have no choice of a love life
I need food
I am tired of sniffing glue for food
But who will help me?
Who will help me?
God please help me.

86
Monica Mweseli My Surprise Guest
MY SURPRISE GUEST
When I was thirteen years old
1 had a surprise visitor
A strange visitor it was
Unannounced
Unknown
But had to visit me
Who commanded when you visit?
Why you don't announce, I asked?
You don't telephone?
You don't SMS?
You don't write a letter?
Why?
Yes at age thirteen mother had not
Told me you would come!
My elder sister Nakoba had not told
Me you would come
My class teacher whom I thought
Was my dear friend and confidant
Had not told me you would come
My dearest Auntie Hannah Munika
Who loved me dearly had not introduced you to me
My grandma Nelima Mutoro
Who told us stories at her
Fire place and at whose home we slept
Did not bother to tell me that you would come
At age thirteen, you came to visit me
Unannounced you came
Had you informed me earlier
I would have prepared for you
A box of tampons
Better still
A box of ALWAYS

87
Or I would have prepared for you
Your favourite delicacy
You would have simply said you wanted
To come, what date day, time
and I would have been
Ready to welcome you
My guest!
My guest!
I was so shocked at your impromptness
At thirteen you came to visit rne
Oh Lord, I was of age and you
Had to visit me
Surely, did you have to sneak on me
Like this?
How you messed my life that day
Thank God
We were on holidays and not going to school
Mother was in the shamba
Not near me to help welcome you
So was Grandma
And even my big sister Nakoba
Oh dear mother, why didn't you prepare
Me for this 'my guest’?
Oh elder sister why didn't you?
Oh dear Grandma why didn't you?
Oh my teacher why didn't you?
How would I know how to welcome you?
When I sat on mama's sofa
You penetrated through my dress
And onto the sofa
You left your big world map there
When I walked in the house
You dripped and dropped
From room to room
Oh how ashamed I was to look
Back at your presence everywhere
My light clothes could not soak you enough
Mum, sis, granny, teacher

88
Are you all my friends?
Why did you do this to me
While you knew the guest would come?
At age thirteen you became part of me
We are now inseparable friends
For every moon you have to visit me
Now my friends and I talk about you
Even mother wanted to know if
You had arrived
And if you had departed
For failure of your coming can
Signal other problems
Now I will have to tell my daughters of you
Lest they receive you unexpectedly!

89
Bore Kenneth The Game
THE GAME
I knew not
I knew not it's fatal
One of my own
Fell victim
Like a raven,
Old black witch
The game mistress
Dived for her holy garden
Hooked talons
Crude weapons poised
A chop, then another
A stitch, then another
One of my own gleaming scarlet
With blood!
Blood! Blood! Blood!
Blood was everywhere
Blood in the air
Rivers of blood!
Hazy as she fell
A mumble, then another
Feeble kick, then a BOTHER
Eyes staring into nothingness
Victim of the scapel
Of pristine ritual
To the game succumbed
FGM so they call it.

90
Austen Uwosomah Bloody Tradition
BLOODY TRADITION
Blood here!
Blood there!
Blood everywhere!
Cries here!
Cries there!
Cries everywhere!
Hail trado – surgeons
Hail their scalpels
Their combination victimize victims.
One victim couldn’t stand the fate
Before dawn she was late
The next didn’t wait
Victim and mother made a run
The clan decreed their return
Their kindred were banished in-turn
Many a victim limp from deformity
Some lost their fertility
Dozens, their sensuality
The custom is preposterous
The custodians are barbarous
The bloody tradition is ridiculous.

91
Ya Jallmv Mariama
MARIAMA
She wept
When they told her
The time had come, she wept more
That day she would never forget
At the crack of dawn they were there
Mariama! She heard her name
This time she wailed
The tears rolled down her face,
Onto her breast
"Will you sit up?"
She lay still, allowed them to
Drag her out of bed,
She clung to the blankets
But they gave way
She felt herself carried away
Away into the dark bush
Also wild bush
When they sharpened the knife -
She wailed
The drums beat and they chanted
She was going to be a woman!
It happened fast - and there
Was blood, plenty- Ah what pain!
Her voice was no more heard
This time they wept.

92
Monica Mweseli Agony of an Encounter
AGONY OF AN ENCOUNTER
You did it to me
Yes you did it to me
I was only sixteen years old
A primary pupil at
Maloho Primary School
Lived with my sister Vina
Met you
Tall, small eyed
And as your friend put in your C. V.
You Were
Generous
Loving
Caring
And you loved 100% no less
You told me of your hobbies
Plays chess, volleyball, football and all
About your hard work in school
Oh yes
What did you not tell me?
Yes!
Then one weekend
You asked me
“No!”
I innocently retorted
When my household had gone
To the village for the weekend
Knock! Knock!
I heard
Opened the door
Who did I see?
“You again!
At this ungodly hour?

93
What are you doing here?”
‘Oh I have come to say hi’
Then
Before I knew
You had stolen my gold,
My jewelry,
My Treasure!
“What is this you are doing?”
‘It’s OK it's OK’
Was it OK to me or to you?
But was it OK
And
You deserted me thereafter
And me
The results I bore
A bouncing baby girl
You never gave her a name
So I named her ‘
wandoba’
Meaning rejected.
You never provided for her
You never educated her
Yes you did it to me
The shame I bore
The burden of bringing her up I bore
But all is well that ends well
Now that she is big, you have known her
You have told her who you are
Nonetheless
You did it to me
The pain and suffering
I dropped out of school
My parents rejected me
My family rejected me
My whole clan rejected me
Why?
Because you did it to me

94
Austen Uwosomah Midnight Travail
MIDNIGHT TRAVAIL
In the depth of the night,
In the darkest recess of darkness,
Stillness hung in the atmosphere.
Bats and owls dread singing,
Suddenly, from yonder eves, came a scream.
A woman was screaming for help.
Can nobody hear her?
That screaming woman,
Disturbing the mood of the time.
Who could she be?
What could she want?
Her screaming invited me.
At the abode of the screamer,
I groped for an entrance.
But there was no door!
The scream came again
From the reverse of the hut
No wonder, I was at the rear!
Circumventing,
I reached the ajar door
A flame from a bush lamp
Danced around the filthy room
I entered, but almost immediately ran out
The once pregnant nut lay on the floor unbreathing,
Her umbilical cord twisted around a stillborn
Who put this mad woman in family way?
“A culprit is at large!”
Yet, the society watches with glued lips.

95
Arinze Okeke Cracked Egg
CRACKED EGG
Go away! Philanderer.
Go away! Smooth criminal.
That stole my virginity
And threw it to the wind
Runaway! Into extinction
For you are devilish
Sing not about love to me again
Talk no more of my radiating beauty
For my heart fumes in pain and sorrow.
You hailed my ravishing beauty
I thought that you were reserved
Little did I know that yours
Was to hit and run
Leaving me in a pool of colossal loss
Aye! You have cracked my egg.
You tabled marriage in deceit
Lured me to endless wailing
Digging the trench for my obsequy
Gone! The purity of womanhood.
Forever, I shall curse your scion.
The traits from your generation
That the goddess of virginity
May haunt you to yonder
Make you pay for my loss
Nemesis shall slam you
For you cracked the egg
That I left for Mr. Right.

96
Barasa Denis A Song Devoured
A SONG DEVOURED
I want to sing
I want to ring my mum
And hear her sing
I want to hear her promise
The promise of coming home
In the evening with a basket of shopping
I want to sing to her
I want to cling
I want to hug my mother
I want to brag of her
I want a photo-shoot with her
I want to cling on my mother’s care
I need to dine
Am inclined to her
I want to enjoy her radiance of love
I need mama
Oh! I want
I am crying
Am wailing
Mourning
Desolate for she is gone
Gone with the setting sun
Unable to comprehend, I bleed
I am bleeding
Blisters have eaten my eyes
Mine is a pail full soul of pains
It was two shots
The bangs of a car’s doors
The terrible ripping of her clothes
The riff-raff, rap-rap of her body
And the shatter of glass
The smash of the windscreen
And the whole world came flowing red
From her soiled body
Within a shot

97
And she was gone
Gone! Gone! Gone!
I am wet with wells of tears
The fury and fear
I can sing no more
Who shall I for?
What shall I sing for?
Rape? Robbery?
Oh! No.
I want to sing.

98
Constant Ngozi Endangered Innocence
ENDANGERED INNOCENCE
Outside my room, behind my window,
Dry leaves intermittently rustled.
With my left hand, I pushed aside
The curtain that hindered my eyes.
There! One busied
Oneself by flogging dry leaves.
A child who looked 12
But stood, for gene
Or good breeding, as tho’ 14.
A pink scarf hooded her low cut
A white singlet stuck close
To her yet breastless body
A pink lace described her waist,
Over a flowered skirt.
I blew a shoo!
She looked up, then around.
She saw no one. She continued
With her beating of the dry leaves
But now, I only saw her stick going
Up and Down.
My ears were shut
From the rustles by my eyes
My eyes, which were trapped
In utter admiration of Innocence
Innocence whose hymen
The world would soon break.
If it is not already guilty.

99
L.G. Rucha The Mother’s Agony
THE MOTHER’S AGONY
Mama, give me your eye, that I may wipe the tear
The merciless arms of the one so dear
The binding vows made without fear
On the day you wore the white gear
Did not last for a year
For he no longer wanted to care
The man in white witnessed your scream
Once again rejuvenated your dream
A few hours later you were at the stream
Supper is late, your hair he will trim
Your countenance has lost its gleam
For he no longer wants to care
At a distance the rains are coming
On the lines the laundry is hanging
Among the trees the goats are bleating
On your back, I can’t help crying
Papa is away to do his chewing
For he no longer wants to care
Go mama go, go to a far away land
Go where you can be lend a hand
Run, run away from the wand
Before he returns you to the sand
He has joined the evil band
For he no longer want to care

100
Barasa Denis Obedience
OBEDIENCE
You taught me at age five,
Dear Pa and Ma
That honour your father and mother
In order that my days may be many
I thank and cherish you for that
At age ten, dear parents
You reluctantly gave in
To my education at the mission
For I am a girl, so you said
Little did I know then
My days with you had been numbered
Secretly you secured another daddy
To be more than a father to me
Today you assembled
Paraded me in front of my siblings
Young John at 15, Terry at 8
And Susan at 5
Escort your sister
To her matrimonial home, so you said
Amidst wet cheeks
And deep sobs, heavy sighs
We all cried, dear parents
And left.
Now, far away from your care
We dread your care
I ask
How many years will I spend
With this grandpa of yours?
Yes, I choose to respect what you ask of me
But, only happiness
I want to have many
Years for myself
Spare little Terry for me

101
Waigwa Wachira To You Monica
TO YOU MONICA
They told me that you were a prostitute
I don't know what that means really
But they were more than sure
that you started the fight
That had you killed.
And in self-righteous tones they said
When I disbelieved the verdict:
That woman was a prostitute
She ensnared him
Flaunted her body
In front of him
Broke his resistance
And took away his money!
A woman who sells her body for money
Is a prostitute, true
What about a man who buys her body
With money
What shall we call him?
Isn't he also a prostitute?
If in this land men are going to jail
For growing bhang to educate theicr children
And if foreign sailors
Aboard the S.S. la Sails can come into our land
Rape, maim and even kill our sisters
Then sail away again
Then I say:
We have been to
There is no justice for all
Only justice for the rich!
Justice for the foreigner!
But the greatest criminal
In the eyes of the law
Is she who has nothing
Still they shouted:

102
That woman was a prostitute
She ensnared him
Flaunted her body in front of him.
Broke his resistance
And took away his money!
From the rooftops I wanted to shout:
No!
She was human
A mother of two
She needed food
Shelter
And clothing
And he ensnared her
Flaunted his money
In front of her
Broke her resistance
And took away her life!
Yes!
From the rooftops I wanted to shout
But I have been around long enough to know
That only deaf men and women
Walk the streets nowadays
So I do not shout from the rooftops
I only feel a funny kind of pain
Each time I think about you.
Monica Njeri was a Kenyan lady
Killed by a U.S sailor in Mombasa.
The sailor was subsequently freed
Much to the disbelief of most of the nation.

103
Oghogho J. Irowa Life
LIFE
Life is like a vapour
So uncertain with downfalls
Like a cat with many lives
Life is so blind
Having people groom
Assuming to know
Yet, reality is so far
Life so much to offer
How little we know
Though we don’t
Let it show
Inside our hearts,
We are so low
Life so sweet
Yet full of much sin
Life is all about the seed of man
Which I must burden myself for.

104
Poems
On
Feminism
Page 104 - 128
THE BOAST OF A
WOMAN IS WHAT SHE
DOES EVENTUALLY

105
Monica Mweseli African Woman
AFRICAN WOMAN
African Woman;
Self namer,
Self definer,
Family centred,
Genuine is sisterhood,
Strong,
In concert with males,
In struggle,
Whole,
Authentic,
Role Player,
Respectful,
Spiritual,
Considerate
Male compatible,
Adaptable,
Ambitious,
Mothering,
Nurturing,.
Feminist,
Political
Frugal,
Social,
Cultural,
Organized,
Activist,
Crusader,
Money bank.
The African Woman:
What do you want?
Which way do you go?

106
Cyprian M. Mokua I am a Woman
I AM A WOMAN
Look!
I arrived though they expected him
Liked me not but still I came
Only came to surprise their expectation
Once in the world I loudly pronounced
I am a woman
In disbelief my father stayed not
For democracy needs a patriotic shepherd
I have come though in a surprise
To prove to your boys a point
Did you hear father?
Surely, I am a woman
I can see your inside mother
Proud for my winning journey
Covered though with denial indoctrinations
I have come to help fulfill your role
Mama please whisper aloud
For I am a woman
Proof confirm to him empirically
Am worthier in white paper competitions
Though expected not I can shine
Pressed from both corners of traditions
Ignorant traditions, which still don’t know
That I am a woman
Yes, my journey seems long
I’ve got to inherit your belonging father
I the cause of your wife’s departure
Once dejected but still persisting
For I know who I am
Yes, I am a woman

107
In vain not, God created me
Am of their same material
Into pieces break the inferiority rule
For I have come with a sign of peace
Proudly, proudly I still persist
I am a woman.

108
Nkong Kima Singer of Paradoxes
SINGER OF PARADOXES
Hark, Globalisation!
Singer of paradoxical notes –
Enforcer and ruiner of maidenhood,
Preserver and desecrator of virginity,
Destroyer and constructor of female phobia.
Enforcer and ruiner of maidenhood?
See how good girl education fares,
See how woman’s aspirations rise,
See how she dominates social organs,
But how misrepresented she leads.
Preserver and desecrator of virginity:
See how many annals caution her,
Hear how many sermons give guidance,
See how many NGOs protect her pride,
But how vulnerable AIDS ravages her.
Destroyer and constructor of female phobia:
Hear how voices hail the Beijing Accord,
See them faring in our professional world,
See them walking up to the round table,
But how timidly their feet aid them
And how inglorious they have become.

109
Robert Wamalwa Has Come
HAS COME
Dry your tears sister
For the sky is clear, and the sun is bright
There will be no more clouds or pouring of rain
Dawn has come, for women
Everywhere
Woman, mind your domestic chores
Woman, give me a son to carry on my name
Woman I am cold
Dawn has come for women
Everywhere
Child bearing tires the African woman
Her palms are rough and blistered
From digging and splitting firewood
Her soles are sore and cracked
From walking long distances
In search for water
But dawn has come for women
Everywhere
The African woman is angry
Enough is enough
Equality is the word
Change is inevitable, make way
Dawn has come for women
Everywhere

110
Amanda Foka A Girl’s Life
A GIRL’S LIFE
What a life is a woman's life!
She makes others happy
But not for herself
When she is born,
Every eye is tearful
Because she is considered worthless.
A boy gets plenty of freedom and attention
The poor girl does the entire household
Chores without a moment's rest
The boy always gets time to study
The poor girl is starved of
Education, recreation and health.
Now, the time has come
For the girl
To fight for her rights
With help, she will willingly try
She wants to travel on the
Road of development
She is ready to grasp the helping hand.

111
Austen Uwosomah Womanic Verses
WOMANIC VERSES
Why does he conceit so much because he’s a man
When there is real humility in being a woman
Why does he always want to be the bigwig
When I am actually the one that wears a wig
He always wants to seed my womb
Whereas he can’t nurture a womb
If he aims to become my manager
I too can become his manageress
If he becomes the mayor
I will be a mayoress
And if he roars at me like a lion
Trust me to roar back like a lioness
If ever he wants to be fierce as a tiger
In me, he will see a ferocious tigress
And if he poses like the master
I shall flaunt like the mistress
But if he behaves as a true gentleman
I shall give in and accompany him as his lady
Whenever he behaves like a god
In me, he will see a goddess
If he swaggers like a prince
I shall swank in front like a princess
If he prophesy like a prophet
I too shall profess like a prophetess
When he dramatizes like an actor
I shall perform as an actress
And if he writes poems like a poet
These verses prove I too can be a poetess.

112
Beatrice E. Orife Skinny Tomboy Kid
SKINNY TOMBOY KID
I was a skinny tomboy kid
Who walked down the streets
With my fists clenched
Into tight balls.
I knew all the roofs
And backyard fences
I liked traveling that way
Sometimes, not touching
The side walks
For blocks and blocks
It made me feel victorious sometimes.
Over the street,
I like to fly
From roof to roof
The gravel falling away
Beneath my feet.
I like the edge
Of almost not making it
And the freedom of riding my bike
To the ocean to smell it
And I traveled disguised
In an old army jacket
Carrying my fishing tackle
To the piers
With bumming baits
And a couple of cokes
Catching crabs
And sometimes selling them
To Chinese guys
And I’d give
The fishes away
I didn’t like fish

113
I just liked to fish
And I vowed to never grow up
To be a woman
And be helpless
Like my mother
But then, didn’t realise
The kind of guts
It often took
For her to just keep standing
Where she was.
I grew like a skinny stubborn weed
Watering myself in whatever way I could
Believing in my own myth
Transforming my reality
And creating a legendary self.
Every once in a while,
Late at night,
In the deep darkness
Of my sleep, I woke
With a tenderness in my arms
And I followed it
From my elbow to my wrist
I realised, my fists
Are tightly clenched
The streets came grinning
And I forget.
Who I’m protecting
I coil up in a self fashion
And say to myself
“It’s Ok”

114
Beatrice E. Orife Purchase
PURCHASE
I like the smell of new clothes,
The novel aroma of challenge
This dress has no past
Crinkled with regretful memories
To taint it
Only a future as hopeful
As my own
I can say of an old garment
Laid away in the trunk
This lace I wore on any day
I prefer the scent of a new cloth
Of a garment unworn
Unbridled like the new self
That I become
When I first wore it.

115
Fatou Juwara Destiny
DESTINY
My God! My God! My God!
You destined him to be a boy
You destined her to be a girl
Because of your infinite great love for us
We came to this world
Through similar process and
You subjected us to equal potentials
Gracious Lord?
Your wise ideas have been derailed
So great a line has divided us.
While he is the master, I am now the slave
While education is his right,
It's my privilege
Oh God, God is this my destiny.
The right to select a husband of my
Choice has been completely stripped off me
I am forced to marry at a pre-mature age
Without experience to raise my would-be babies.
I have been reduced to an object of sexual satisfaction
I have been turned into a child bearing Machine
I cannot accept this as my destiny
It is more honorable for me to die
Struggling for my education, freedom
And future than to live as a non-person.

116
Justice Shik African Girls' Right
AFRICAN GIRLS' RIGHT
We have the right and freedom of choice
The right to education and the right to live
As African girls
Our rights are what we live on
If we have the right to freedom of choice
We have to speak and stand up for our rights
If we have the right to education
We should not waste our parents' money
We should go to school and study
If we have the right to live
We, African girls
We do not have to be abused
Not only these right, but also other more important ones
We have the right to be loved and to be treated fairly
We must never give up
Together we will win
We must always strike a fair deal
Together as African girls
We will win the battle
Of Fighting against abuse.

117
Leena Lelungu Girl’s Appearance
GIRL’S APPEARANCE
Girls have schools as their second home
And clubs as their third.
The presence of girls is always
A long march with teachers
Giving them a true-life treasure.
And a promising future
Pregnancies in schools
Is like looming catastrophe
Nothing wastes more energy than worrying.
The longer... problem it carries the heavier it gets.
Put your limits on yourself
Your dreams are waiting to be realized
Don't leave your important decisions to chance
Reach your peak, your goal and your prize
We girls, upcoming mothers and wise investors.

118
Boughwna k. Titanji It's Simple as That
IT'S SIMPLE AS THAT
Maths, Physics, Chemistry, Biology
Difficult subjects so some say
To think? To solve, calculate and reason
Are these so difficult for a girl to do?
Certainly not, most certainly not
Put your mind to it and all goes well
Be patient, attentive, inquisitive and careful
And you find it's quite simple to become a scientist
If your are strong willed and determined
Why not give it a try
You never know, you never know
You might be tomorrow's new Einstein
It is so strange, so very strange
To hear of a female scientist?
Well if it sounds strange to some people
It doesn't to me
So girls get into the laboratories
And Maths classes
And get busy, it’s about time.

WOMANIC VERSES

Recommended

Recommended

More Related Content

What's hot

What's hot (7)

Viewers also liked

Viewers also liked (12)

Similar to WOMANIC VERSES

Similar to WOMANIC VERSES (20)

Recently uploaded

Recently uploaded (20)

WOMANIC VERSES