We are the 10th daughter of Gĩkũyũ and Mũmbi
The one spoken of in low rehashed tones
With eyes full of sadistic pity
The one who, without a husband bore outcasts
Casting on stone the traits of children born of men but not of fathers.
We are the daughters of women
Who dared raise their children in a society that looked at them
As rebels of traditions,
Wreckers of holy unions,
Winds of destruction on upright family foundations
We are the daughters of Wamũyũ
We are the seeds of relationships gone cold
Chilly as the wafting wind as it dried a girl’s wet eyes
After the man who, on every trip from the river
Held her behind, in bushes with promises of love and joy
With wild flowers and sweet bush berries
Turning her toes into a painter's hand
That drew figures and imageries on the dry red soil
On hazy sunsets,
At the foot of the valley that separated his and her homes,
He sank into the ground, leaving her with a growing seed
We are fruits of his wild mind
That made her naïve like sheep to a wolf
Begging her to let him in,
Into her heart, into her veins
Knowing only too well
That her heart was a black rose in a beautifully tendered garden of life.
We are the caricature of a grandparent's pet,
Our view of men is as skewed as our view of life
Thinking it will offer you a carpet to step on,
Only for you to walk barefoot on a path laden with rocks, thorns and broken bottles.
We are the young girl who confuses her uncle’s hand under her skirt, to a touch of love
We are the young lady who seeks elusive attention to herself for reassurance of who she is.
We are the woman who despite finding the right kind of man who will respect her,
Constantly forgets as she seeks more attention from men,
With every smile she gives, heartache, unfulfillment and guilt she receives.
We are the child who grows up into a mother, afraid to bring up her kids like she was
And for that, stays in an abusive marriage hiding blows and burns.
The deferred punishment her father never gave her
For she sees a father in her man, not a lover.
Our sons and daughters though scorned at
Are human doves, symbols of love, peace and joy
in between spasms of impatience, egocentric thoughts,
In their hearts, generosity flows like rains from the skies
We are the clan of Wamũyũ
Children of lone soldiers.
N.W
April 2008
kenyanpoet@gmail.com
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