WHY CHILD MARRIAGE?

By: Our Daily Poetry Family

#ODP_Voices – Week 17

[This is our story about the daily barbaric custom happening in our beloved African countries. Our children, mostly the females, are tied to a future of misery without given a fair chance on what is obviously their right. Some are married into a family while others are married off to men who are their fathers’ age. What then happens to the irreplaceable feeling of falling in love? What happens to human rights when your very future is chosen for you? What happens when you’re tempted to seek love outside your matrimonial home owing to the fact that you weren’t given such a fair chance. It is a thorn in our flesh to daily see women miserable when they should be happy. Say NO to CHILD MARRIAGE, say NO to FORCED MARRIAGE. Let’s join voices of poets all over the world to help call attention to this act, hoping to stop the repeating circle of evil in our world.]

Conducted & Compiled by Miss Word from Nigeria.

ODPoet: Sunsampaul d Philosopher
Country: Nigeria

I HAVE A DREAM

I have a dream that one day
My pen will write about freedom
And leads us out of boredom
Taking us out of the dungeon
Where our daughters are victims of child marriage
Forced to everlasting union
Perishing in undeserved communion.

I have a dream that one day
My spoken word will speak of justice
With the right of removing the sack clothes
On our sister’s bodies
To make them live in joy
Without been push to undesired dreams
Of forlorn streams
Of leaving in everlasting journey.

ODPoet: Apollo James
Country: Kenya

MARRIED INCOMPLETE

Like a closed poppy
Popped by uncaring boy
Like an unripe fruit
Plucked and ripped before time
Like a carrot or tulip
Unearthed so young
Was her marriage to him
Her breasts so tiny
He struggled to foddle
Her hips so small
He wondered why she didn’t gyrate
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Her experience in love so small
He lied what it was
Yet paid a heavy burden
In woe for the unbidden flower
To a greedy papa, and an illiterate, oppressed house wife
‘They claimed I would learn,would I?’
He mistreated,she retreated
He claimed sex was love
She hated love if it was the painful sex
‘Why did they marry me so young’ was her wonder
And hated marriage
She bore so young,
It had to be through Cesarean section
She breastfed so young
And wished for the play of youth.

ODPoet: Dee
Country: Botswana

A LOST CHILDHOOD
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

A disguised world, an odd emotion
Snatching away her innocence, her dreams
The dolls, those toys
The tamarind and candies,
The corners where she hid,
Those farms, those shanties;
With a halt to her childhood
Some tears and a hiccup,
She asks her mother-
“When did I grow up?”
Getting married to a stranger
No friends, no allies
The symbols of wedlock
Vermilion and gold;
But the reason for this sin
Remains untold.
Abandoning her childhood in a palanquin
With an ending so abrupt
The innocent little bride wonders-
“When did I grow up?”

ODPoet: Stara
Country: Kenya

A TEEN’S PLEA

So tired of people thinking they know it all
As if me being young means i cant think
Like i needed help to live my own life
So what if you are older than me
If you have lived through this before
So what if you have seen many like me
Does not mean i will be them or you
I beg to experience all this emotions
I want to live this moment as it is.

Let me make my own mistakes
Who stopped you from making yours
I will grow up someday
I will stop all this nonsense and hype
Am not the type that wants to be young forever
I simply live as this life will take me
So please i ask…respect me as a person
I may be young i know
But i have a brain of my own.

ODPoet: Lisa Banda
Country: Malawi

Hi, I’m Mary’s diary,
Remember me?
You gave me to her as a gift,
On her 14th birthday, last week.
She confides in me,
Yesterday she told me something rather disturbing.

She said you are giving her away,
Not for adoption but marriage.
She said you think she’s the perfect seal,
For your long-awaited business deal,
So you’ll let her be the Chief’s fourth wife,
And you don’t care how it affects her life.

She told me of her dreams to be president,
To stay in school and keep her record of best student,
She told me of her fears of childbirth and fistula,
her hatred for Chief,her hubby in the very near future,
And I could feel her pain as she said this,
So I plead with you,don’t kill her dream,don’t do this!!

ODPoet: Joy Munde
Country: Kenya

TAKE ME BY THE HAND

In your form I saw one to lead,
In my form you saw another addition to your herd,
Flushes of confusion cloud my view,
Semblances of resistance and hard headedness lead your way,
Echoes of my childhood still ring in my head,
Reality stares hard at my face,
The child I still am,
Not ready to bring forth another child,
To whom will I cry out to?
When my new born baby cries at me,
Who will take me by the hand,
To tell me its okay and a brighter clear future lead me to?
Who will save me from the sharp fangs and talons of marriage?

Their silence endorsement as the new wife of the boma,
A duty I only got to dream about and joke about,
If its a punishment am sorry mama,
I know your new cooking pot I knocked it down,
Now you sell me to get another cooking pot,
In my weak cries I ask you listen to me mama,
All my tender life the best for me you yearned,
With the pot-bellied man now my future as a wife you bestow,
All I wish for from you..anyone,
Take me by the hand and lead me…
Please give me a chance,
A bride I will be in due time,
But a child I still am now,
A silent loud cry my heart shouts,
Take me by the hand,lead me right.
Save me now, I will spend on you later,
Take me by the hand.

ODPoet: Gome Chirambo
Country: Malawi

NOT NOW

Breast so small on my chest
Childish smile on my lips
Naive look on my face
I know nothing about marriage
But I know I will be send off very soon
Now that I menstruate they say I will make fine babies
What will I be doing with a man that big
Old enough to be my uncle
On the same lying next to him
I do not know what will be of me when he do to me what I learned in primary science

Why choosing a husband for me
Am capable of doing that when I grow up
Am only thirteen
Not now please
If you don’t want to waste much money on my education
I can quit school and stay at home
Am not ready to marriage
Give me more years
When my brain is fully mature
My body part fully strong
Mum are you blinded by that money he gave you
Dad don’t dwell much on the wine given
Am more important than that
Please don’t let him take me tonight.

ODPoet: Mpho Twosly Mosoane
Country: South Africa

BRING BACK

Bring back my Teddy bear.
Bring back my toys.
Bring back my Cinderella story book.
Bring back my happiness.
Bring back my virginity.
Bring back my childhood.
Bring back my lollipop.
I need all that you took from me….
Mommy bring back his lobola
Yesterday I was singing:’ twinkle twinkle little Star’… Today you force me to say..
“I do”
I need myself.

ODPoet: Phylo
Country: Kenya

EARLY CHILD MARRIAGE

Early !! Early!!
This word is early in my thoughts
Making me drum my voice across Africa
Girls its her day
The white long perfumed dress
The motorcade that awaits
The flashy lights
The happy murmurs
Both families are happy
Their daughter n son bond
But are we blind
We do have scales on our eyes?
That girl is my student at Bright Light Academy
She’s the best student
Who will flag our school in interschool maths contest
Wasted
She slouches in her child
Perhaps her worst moments
For her dad promised to beat the hell out of her-
If she didn’t “behave”
Its just a forced up cloud

What we parents think
No,how we do think
Grand children you think
It ain’t like  your days as you think
I pity you
Only cows,goats,sheep n a mansion
Makes you rub off a brilliant mind off the legacy books
She is all regrets
She cant complain
Africa that would been a professor
Buy greed o greed is drowning us
But i know and she know
When you will know
That you people did not think upstairs
It is a forced up cloud.

ODPoet: Rati Ntau
Country: Botswana

WHY DREAM

As young as I am
Like any other kid
I had dreams
I dreamt  un-dreamt dreams
Dreams full of candies,
Full of beautiful future
I dreamt seeing myself coming from work
Dreamt of my future children, sweet husband
I dreamt of changing the world.

Now my life is filled with regrets
Why did I waste my time dreaming?
We were encouraged to dream big
And I did but what was the result?

Now they are saying I am someone’s wife
I am a woman soon to be mommy
But who I am really?
A child who was forced to marry
A child who lost her precious dreams

Mama just yesterday you told me
I am your little angel
Daddy just yesterday you told me
I am your little girl
Now I am a woman?
I tried to speak and you shut my mouth
Saying I am young
I am young?
But as young as I am you sold me away
To be someone’s wife
That sad.:'(

ODPoet: Effie Fennelah
Country: Kenya

JUST SNATCHED

She was just made for early marriage
Like a fertile land,fate to her is clear
Life called her and she obeyed with objection not
To a place where her innocence was exploited to guilty
To a place she’ll dwell till death.
At ten she was made a WOman(Wife Of a man)
Her dreams shattered
Her education short lived
Because she was just snatched by him
An octogenarian shameless man
Who snatched her life and prestige..
The parents too are so heartless
They sold their daughter
Only daughter, only hope
To maintain their desire and selfish lust
And threw their daughter to a life full of death
That not so many can sustain
The commitments at a young age.

ODPoet: Mihz Words
Country: Nigeria

BABY ADULT
¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶

Newly born,
She looked beautiful as the sun.
Swooning visitors,
One a predator,
With hawk-like eyes,
He envisioned the blooming of this prize.

With wines he bought her infancy,
Willfully for his fantasy,
To watch and pluck
at the dawn of her ripeness,
To suck her till he feels her dryness.
Baby adult!
She is only a child,
Oblivious to the fawning,
In later years, this will dawn in.

ODPoet: Isaac Praiz
Country: Nigeria

MOMENTS OF A TENDER
BRIDE

Hinging to this still dark room
pampered but despised
I brace my manly groom
with smiles My tears in disguise
Like a precious stone cast ashore
my heart sink from his thrust
just yesterday the baby my mother bore
father took a stand, to marry, a must
now my dreams as roses in fetters
fizzling out, my tenderness they take
plucked unripe, left with no words to utter
striped of my youth though I wake
In this lonely room I stage
acting their script, my life, their page.

ODPoet: Matolo Kyalo Jr
Country: Kenya

~ Shattered Dreams ~

She dreamt of going to the university
Having quality education and a successful career

She dreamt of having a family
Beautiful kids playing in the summer sun

She dreamt of building a business
Creating jobs and giving back to her dear community

She dreamt of true love
Trust, joy and happiness

All that is still a dream
She will keep dreaming until she is set free
She will keep suffering in this false home
Her 80 year old husband shattered her dreams.

Who will save these young souls from perishing?

©2016

ODPoet: Mukidi
Country: Kenya

SHE IS JUST A BABY!

Yaya, go and wash your face,
Before your conscience falls from grace,
I hear the drums are being made,
And that jingles are rehearsing,
But the skies are turning dark,
And the women’s voices are stuck,
For she. She is just a baby!

Yaya, pull your senses together,
She is too young to gather,
Too young to have a young one,
She’ll scream as soon as you slide in,
Let her be. Let her learn,
She’s too small to have a man,
For she. She is just a baby!

© 2016.

ODPoet: Joy Wainaina
Country: Kenya

All alone I lie in this tiny room
White walls screaming laughs at me
Big blue curtains dancing a song of praise
For my selfish dad maybe
Or for him that took my youth
Only nine months ago
Then today left me here for dead
My heart is young heavy laden and weak
My back aches madly
My toes trembles intensely
Immense pain and agony overwhelmed me
I feel the end drawing near
I don’t want to cry
Mama said its not for me to cry
I am a woman
Daddy said I need to make him proud
Bring forth my young one
And he’s gonna be a rich man
The rest of the herd will head home
Kimani my brother will go to school
I love school daddy
School belongs to his species
He said.

ODP™ Forever.

Season’s Greetings From ODP Family

By: Our Daily Poetry Family

#ODP_Voices – Week Fourteen

[This is our story about the most treasured season of the year. We all have our distinct ways of celebrating Christmas and New Year. We seek joy and happiness from every little thing we do. Other people find solace in putting a smile on the faces of the less fortunate. What does Christmas mean to you? Do you have resolutions for the New Year? Let’s hang out and share in this festive atmosphere.]

ODPoet: Matolo Kyalo Jr.
Country: Kenya

This is Love

They trudged on
In the scorching sun
Through dunes
Listening to desert tunes
She was going to be a mother
He had the faith
At the city, houses were full
Many being brought to the world
But only one to rule.

The manger was their only choice
A cry of joy filled the universe
His humility attracted thousands
His omniscience surprised the masses
His selflessness saved all generations
Oh! What a joy!
Black and white rejoice
A chant of His holiness in every voice
Nations bow down before Him
For no other love could be this sufficient.

ODPoet: Phill Ibsen
Country: Kenya

Hail The Son Of Mary!!!!

Once a woman was selected
They said it was luck for her
Not aware of the sacrifices she had made
Or how many times she had fled
She was cut off from the other
Like some with a bad malady
What awaited her she knew not
Until came the revelation
She became certain
As she sat back
She waited for that Prophecy
Hail The Son Of Mary!!!

Whence the day came
The Angels spoke
The census on process
The journey so long
She was late
But secured a place by faith
Amongst the few strong women I knew
She was a woman of steel
Chosen by God to bear a prophecy
Hail The Son Of Mary!!!

The glory reigned
She found favour in Gods heart
Prophecy came to being
God exalted the humble
She was finally at peace
Her story still fresh on our minds
Today we celebrate her fruit
We celebrate her endurance
Her patience, her strength
On that night
A child came to being
And so the salvation came to human beings
Hail The Son Of Mary!!!

ODPoet: Dee
Country: South Africa

My Christmas Wish

Peace, joy, love.
Are my Christmas wishes.
In these things you’ll find things to make the
world better.
My Christmas wish is to see a child’s dream come
true.
Least in things they want.
Especially in things they need.
Even, we adults have dreams we hope to come
true.
And don’t buy into this saying that Christmas’s
just for kids.
Because we all want a gift to come our way.
Especially, if you’ve been good during the
holidays.
l wish everyone of you a Merry Christmas,
l am already making merry!

©DeeVixszg🙄

ODPoet: Gomezga Chirambo
Country: Malawi

THE PRECIOUS GIFT

The greatest gift that God gave us
Was His son Jesus Christ
Whose birth was known throughout the world
That a messiah is born
The king of kings
And Lords of Lords
He was worshiped when hr was a few minutes old
And forever will He be worshipped

Let us crow Him with so many crowns
He is worthy it
He is the reason why salvation came
He was born to lead us into the rightful path

Happy birthday Jesus
My heart is the gift I will give
My wish is for you to be born in it
And live in my soul.

ODPoet: Mpho Twosly Mosoane
Country: South Africa

25th December

Happy birthday Messiah
Glory to the Son
Christmas day
The songs of joy are sung
Families reconcile
End of year celebrations.

No presents for peasants
Neither pleasure nor treasure
Journey bitterly.
Santa Claus, where are you?

Bright is the night
Explosives departed silence
Fireworks chased darkness
We all say:’ merry Christmas!!!’

ODPoet: Apollo James
Country: Kenya

THE AFRICAN CHRISTMAS

.The cymbals tingled
.Carols came with jingles
.The aroma of roasting goats
.The fragrance of cooking wheat pancakes
.The clicks of soda bottles .The sloshing of fruit juices
.And the shrieks of happy jumping kids, rendered the normality and sparkled an aura of celebration.

………………………….

.Stoic Christians cheered
.Pagans and Atheists jeered
.Half-cooked Christians towed
.Half heartedly and confused
.Mythologies made imaginary sleighs, coached fanatics to make Christmas trees in tropics
.Where snow stays on mountain caps only
.But the beauty, a sooth to heart and soul was awesome.

………………………….

.Stories of legendary Santa cheered
.’Long time’ friendships rekindled
.Families feasted together
.Friends invited over for festivities
.But oh, someone defiled
.The sacred day
.They imbibed wine, they overpriced
.They immaturely impregnated
.They criticized Christ
.And they sowed doubt
.And for scapegoat called it
.The African Christmas.

ODPoet: Tebello Maseko
Country: South Africa

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO All.

Cool is the dawn in the breeze, blown slowly
Calm and solitary is the sun in Winter sky
Old is December but newly dressed every year
Reminds “service to mankind is service to God”
Echoes everywhere in the horizon from West to East
Love is the Christmas gift tilting hearts in jingle bells
Each leaf of the Christmas tree is hope and joy
Radiant in the light of love it holds of God’s son.
Gods are born from human womb on earth
Longing love when they don’t find it in heaven
Even want to be killed by man like a bee inside bud
He follows the fragrance till the end of the day,
God is in ceaseless tears for human love for him
Blossoming as flowers though we fade in the evening
Jesus lay in a small bed of hay among the shepherds in joy
Love is simple, clear and bright like a sunny day.
Happy Christmas dear hearts for mirth in earth
Not for diamond, pearl and rubies but only hearts
Live for love and die for love like the lord
Heal the sick like Him, serve the poor and sacrifice
Follow the light though sparkling frost falls around
Twinkle joy on little lips like Santa Claus in free gifts
Words of sweet rhymes connecting our breathe
Turning earth a new home of peace and love.

ODPoet: Miss Word
Country: Nigeria

CHRISTMAS CHARISMA

Dry, frail, looking grey,
Plants unsure of their next sway.
Jittery movements,
Snapping quick bereavement.

Cocks gathered in pairs like socks,
Bowed heads,
Lamenting how life sucks,
Always thin like a thread.

Bangers banging sounds,
Like clashing, clanging grounds.
Fiery furies mark the offendings,
The earth rumble from justice’s pounding.

Special attraction.
Birth of a new covenant,
God’s own son,
The horses’ tenant.

Born into the rich stables,
Myrrh for edibles.
Glorious home call,
Foreseen from cradle.

Sparkles blinding,
From stars thousands away,
Heralds the child in swaddlings,
In hearts, this has come to stay.

®Mihz Words
#bleedingpen
#WrittenForChristmas
#24-12-15

ODPoet: Precious Katunga
Country: Malawi

A PRAYER AT BREAKFAST

I woke up early this morning
On my window I peep
From the eastern horizon
In warmth sun greeted me
Then I knew without pay
Again he let me to see light
On the table something to fill my belly
I said LORD thank you!
In the middle of the prayer
I remembered he sent his son
As a propitiation for our sins
Born to Virgin Mary
And this day his birthday
I gave my heart
For Him to be born there
And I don’t know for you
Still I’ll say Merry Christmas!!!

ODPoet: Effie
Country: Kenya

GOLDEN DAY

I opened my eyes this day
And the golden sun was throwing its rays abruptly
Such a beautiful day made my heart sing jingle bells
To express the joyful moment
Then I had to sing my heart out
Out in the woods
I notice some abnormal looks
But some is not hidden
“What the day is today?”
Merry Christmas all🎄

➰Effie

ODPoet: Akello Charlotte
Country: Uganda

THE DAY

Smiles whole day,
Children happy
And in their best clothes.
It’s Christmas,
Just after mass
Is a big family meal.

A soft drink is a luxury
But meat is a must
At least for today.

An intervillage football match to keep one entertained,
Then special sugarcane search
And maybe fruits
To seal off the day
It’s Christmas
In my village.

ODPoet: Cyburg
Country: Kenya

Of all the things we celebrate,
There is one very special date,
That special day when we sing some carols
Our special day when we feel ‘santamental’

As I stood and held Santa’s hand,
I really began to understand,
For when the toys he must deliver to  everyone,
As the journey around the word begun.

ODPoet: Lisa Banda
Country: Malawi

Pregnant virgin,
King born in a manger,
His ways are not of this world!

His birth signaled by a star,
Not to royalty but poor shepherds,
He came for one and all.

King of kings, saviour,
Friend of all,counsellor,
Prince of peace,eternal father!

A birth still celebrated long after he ascended,
Merry Christmas wishes extended,
Let love, peace and joy reign all year round!

Merry Christmas!!

ODPoet: Prof. Graciano
Country: Nigeria

LET’S CHRISTMAS EVERYDAY.
¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶

Now there are so many wise men
No stars are up there leading them.
Just Christmas lights and Carol songs
Angels sing but human ears hear wrong.
The love for the bottle is what they battle
The sounds of waist-dancing is all that rattle.
Little Jesus is come,
But there’s no penitent cake.
Little Jesus is come,
But we has heartaches and headaches.
This seasonal love is what we should solve.
The seasonal care reflects nothing from above.
After today, let’s Christmas another day.
Not next year’s but everyday.

©GRACIANO
25-12-2015
05:00PM

ODPoet: Joy Munde
Country: Kenya

SPREAD THE LOVE

Its that season we yearn
The season for bliss and cheer
The time of the year we await
From above the king has come
To us a child is giveth
Our Messiah with peace he arriveth
Open your heart him receive
Open your hands gifts to give
Let the peace of the Lord reign
Let the joy of the king reign
In our hearts he is born
In our lives He will manifest
Lets spread the love
As in Christ we learn to love
Let the warmth of your smile
Shine brighter than the evening star
Let the light of the world shine in us
Christ our light shines
Christ the King rules
Christ the embodiment of love is here
In us He lives forever
His love in us dwells
Lets all spread the love.

©25 – 12 – 2015

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ODP™ Forever.

Premature Sex

By: Our Daily Poetry Family

#ODP_Voices – Week Twelve

[ This is our story about the dark and only side of premature sex. Many young people in Africa and beyond are engaging themselves in premature sex, with some of them experimenting at a very tender age, as early as 5 years. Are parents aware of this? What is the cause and how can we curb it?Just how deep are the effects of premature sex? ODP joins voices of poets from all over the world with hope to provide a remedy to this trending malpractice.].                                                                                                    

ODPoet: Akello Charlotte
Country: Uganda

Barstool to Lodge

From the barstool
To the lodge
Before you can even ask her name
You are at it.

Slowly by slowly,
Muscles started wasting,
Your skin got Kaposi sarcoma,
You are a victim of your ordeals!
A victim of AIDs.

ODPoet: Sunsampaul the Philosopher
Country: Nigeria

Dramatically your ego flaunt
Leaving you amidst regret
After a period of premature enjoyment
Just to mingle while single

After the bang bang bang
Comes the nag nag nag
After you played reggae with her
Comes the blues she will play for you
After the enjoyment
Comes the regret
Premature sex.

ODPoet: Cyburg
Country: Kenya

Lying there perfectly clean
not a day older than sixteen
she said ‘gee that was something
i guess you must be really big
then said casually ”i do feel a little sore.

Do you want to have sex some more?
wait, am i myself over eighteen?
I don’t even know where she had been
either way i wish i was dead
because i will be when her parents hear i took their daughter to bed.                                                                                                        
ODPoet: Stara
Country: Kenya
                               
Am counting the stars above
me,                             
because sleep decided to count me out,                             
am also thinking of my past ten minutes ,                        
they will haunt me for the next ten years,                          
my bestie said it would be beautiful,                         
my aunt told me it was life changing ,         
I heard my neighbour say it would make me a woman.    

So i went ahead and did it,under the coffee plantation,
I sold my innocence to an ogre,
in the hope that i too,will tell tales of how it felt,            
now all i seem to recall is his bad breath,his stinking stench, and my poor body that was so disgraced…..                                                                                       
ODPoet: Precious Katunga
Country: Malawi

You lied
Am fecund
For once you said
Timid as a mouse is I
How will I face them ?

Not again
Can’t be a slayer
Yes is gone
My Immaculacy
But a repentance chance I have.                                                   
ODPoet: Morton Msowoya
Country: Malawi

In times
Regrets cover my heart
At twelve, a mother living with fistula
Of operation Organs not mature,per doctor say
Premarital Sex

ODPoet: Dee
Country: Botswana

I Won’t Congratulate You

You’re moving in with your girlfriend and many
people have congratulated you.
You’ve asked me to do the same but that is
something I can’t and won’t do.

I won’t congratulate you because you and your
girlfriend will be living in sin.
I won’t condone premarital sex, don’t ask for
my congratulations ever again.

ODPoet: Prof. Graciano
Country: Nigeria

LET THIS FLOWER BLOOM.
¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶

Let the flowers bloom,
Go make a business boom.
Be a worthy groom,
Or just let this flower bloom.

Plucking her is kissing the cemetery.
No matter the symmetry of your chemistry,
If you can’t pull structures and make her a nursery,
Just let the flowers be.

ODPoet: Miss Word
Country: Nigeria

IMMATURED MATURITY

Excuse this desire for infirmity
Plucking at my mediocrity
You think I’m precocious
Seeing as I refuse to heed to precaution
Envisaging on some fretting scene
I absconded and committed sin

In a scene where I was seen caressing my death wish
So vulnerable I became a palatable Death’s dish
I had stepped into the sour trap that leaves purity mocked to caricature
I had embezzled my future funds so premature.

ODPoet: Amairani Frida
Country: Kenya

Put the bow down
And the arrow won’t shoot
For now it’s too early
Your shoulders too tiny
To carry the kill home
The day is still too hot
For the hunting to begin.

And when you know you are ready
To carry an animal home,
When the day is gone
And you need the meat
Take the bow and hook the arrow
Shoot at the right animal.

ODPoet: Esther Msiska
Country: Malawi

Am Only Sixteen

He said it was good
He said I was a woman
He said it was perfect
Like something he’d never had before

I do not know what am doing
Letting a college hunk decide for me
Play with my body
Then leave me be
Am only sixteen
And virginity is my history.

ODPoet: BankHALL
Country: Nigeria

To tear her is to rewrite her life into tragedy
While trading her dignity for serendipity.

That thing between your hips
Isn’t meant for teens

Rewind your libidinal plight
Lest you defile her  life for life!

ODPoet: Kevin Mwangi
Country: Kenya

UNSTOPPABLE TOUCH !!                                          
I promise I’ll only touch, just to let this place grow.      
Just a tender one, let this love we claim now show.              
I’m the only one who knows, i can’t wait nights days where uncertainty is foreseen.                                                         Lets just, me and you void the lights, lets just touch.                                                                                                                                                                                                                            That touch is too normal, let loose your innocence nobody knows.                                                      Our skins hiss against each other, moan if that is too slow.
Love unravel its walls under so much silence.                
Lets get entangled in this unstoppable touch. Its our time.     
ODPoet: Lisa Banda
Country: Malawi

My poor boy, you are only five,
What fun were you seeking to have?
This is not what I meant,
when I said like a man you must behave,
Now you just dug your own grave,
because that girl was born with AIDS.

Did you even know its a sin?
Any idea how much pain you’ve caused me?
Do you feel more like a man now?
Too bad you have learnt the hard way,
But I will be with you all the way,
Just repent and sin no more.

ODPoet: Joy Munde
Country: Kenya

The only fly in his soup I was then
Gladdened as I was the bravest of ’em all, him to mend
Under the mango tree deep in the night we would meet n bend
In the chill of the night his member warmed me.
Jealous they were I thought when told to say no.

Now light of day shows all my nightly escapades
All alone with ‘it’ in me is my memory of ‘us’
True to his words, the fly I am, a  fly I was
I stink within n all eyes see, smells n scorns
As the stubborn fly I am, I will be buried with the corpse.

ODPoet: Tibonge Ngoma
Country: Malawi

In behind lock and key
Two players in the game
Three minutes of passion
180 seconds of a marathon
Coupled to nine months of conception
Twenty four hours of parturition
A gully created in between
Product of shame nowhere to be seen
HIV acquired in the teens
Postcoital bleeding in the later ages
HIV/AIDS placed me in a cage
My life depends on pill bondage
Seems I acquired the whole package
And forever I live in depression.

ODPoet: Erl Magapa
Country: Botswana

Sorry mommy but I did it
Stuck myself inside of her
So tight and so warm
So ripe but so underage

She put her hands on me
Take me I am all yours
But I said to her, no I cannot
For your age does not allow for me to keep.

Apollo James from Kenya
SHIMMERING DAMSEL
.Her smile so young
.He touched her shoulder
.She smiled seductively
.’I shouldn’t do this,’ he thought
.He coaxed, she giggled
.He lured, she obliged,though she expressed her naivety
.’Can we be quick, mum might come and ask my whereabouts’
‘How old?’…’Sixteen’
Though wary,he felt her tightness,her unbroken immaturity,her inexperience,but went on anyway.
……………………
.He now is hollow
.She now is scared but wants more
.He now wants to stop it
.She now thinks she didn’t do it right and have to prove
.Maybe with someone else
.He introduced her to fornication
.She got pegged to premature sex
.I WISH I KNEW!
       
ODPoet: Wakaba The Poet
Country: Kenya

A time in time

Wanted the moment to last;Pleasure,On the surface of the moon,
Breath taking  beauty, words will fail me;
To the sky and back; the feeling.

But,the gourd broken
An intruder, mine honey, Innocence my marriage present not anymore at my grasp.
And memories,dreads,
Regrets, pain… Once upon a time.

ODPoet: Sir Abten
Country: Nigeria

#Premarital Sex

Cold it was, in wind and dust;
Raging thrills of winter’s wintry lust.
Arms around him, begging to be warm,
I could hear mother’s voice in the storm,
Saying, ” be warned! ”

Even the whispers say ” be warned! ”
But my lips on his plead to dine
As his eyes were locked on mine.
An hour passed, a virgin I was in the past,
Only sixteen, my innocence couldn’t last.

ODPoet: Matolo Kyalo Jr.
Country: Kenya

Curiosity may have killed the cat
But hers turned her into a brat
Being young and playing with fire
These lusty men are like guns for hire
Feeding on young girls like vampires.

It may be a one night stand
Or an every day dance
At the day’s end, the girl is left in an ocean of pain
Unwanted pregnancies, stalled education and AIDs
Society leaders, please save our young seedlings from predators.

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ODP™ Forever.

Diary Of The Mentally Disabled

By: Our Daily Poetry Family

#ODP_Voices – Week Eleven

[This is our story about the thousands of people around the world who are mentally handicapped. We all know one or two people in our neighbourhoods – the kind of guys who go around town dressed in a funny way and smiling at everyone. Most of these people were born with a right mind but somewhere down the road, one thing led to another, plunging them into insanity. Others were naturally born that way. Why do we neglect these people? Is there a way we can make them feel accepted in our communities?]

ODPoet: Justin Wolf
Country: Kenya

He sits there, coldly staring outside
Occasionally he smiles, but to nobody
And he goes back to his daily routine
He was a police, that’s why he’s ever alert.

At break he visits me, he looks at me
So strangely, that he doesn’t remember me
I feel like slapping him to remind him
That we once served in the forces together.

But does he remember anything at all?
How depression drove him so mentality unfit
Does he know it, that I don’t know what I write
For we all in here are suffering from a disorder upstairs.

ODPoet: Akello Charlotte
Country: Uganda

Yesterday
The person I love most
Decided to walk out of my life.
He said my mood swings are overwhelming,
Just before my lips could part each other to explain,
He showed me his back.

I sat down in a corner,
In a dark house all by myself.
He who used to lift me up couldn’t handle me.
My body shrieked as I reached for the knife,
But i had to go.
If he couldn’t understand me,
Who else would?

ODPoet: Matolo Kyalo Jr.
Country: Kenya

To My Dearly Departed Sanity,

It’s just another day in my home market
Dear my departed sanity
I miss you, my right mind
Since you left, it has never been the same
At first, everything seemed funny to me
My pregnant neighbour looked so much like an elephant
Or a really huge ball
Or so I thought
And I laughed.
Everyone started to stare at me like I was different
I began to collect cans and tins by the roadside
I stuffed them into my sack for later use
I didn’t know what to do with them
But I knew I got to carry them around the market.
My clothes got tattered but I loved them so much
So I didn’t throw them away
I’ve been wearing them for several years now.

My dearly departed sanity,
The dumpster by the riverside has become my home now
I live with Njoroge’s dog..
The one that they chased away for killing their chickens
There’s this young lady who lives in Kipkaren,
She is a very kind human
Everyday after her work in the big town,
She passes by my place at the riverside
And gives me a banana
God bless her.

My nights are too cold!
And my days are unbearable.
I need my right mind back
Please my dearly departed sanity,
Come back to me and make me whole again.

Kind regards,

Insane Me.

ODPoet: Joy Ooko
Country: Kenya

“No one really understands”
Dad thinks I’m demented
Mom thinks I’m spoilt
Sister thinks I’m rebellious
Psychotherapist thinks I will be okay
What do I think?
I think they don’t understand
I never chose this
I never chose to be a misfit
I never chose chemical imbalance in my brain
I never chose life
In fact , I crave death
Eternal peace
They will never understand.

ODPoet: Erl Magapa
Country: Botswana

Only rags they see
No human they could ever see,
So every night in my own corner
Every day I pass you in my own world.

I used to be like you back then
But one day, it all changed,
Now you won’t look at me twice
When at first I always caught your eye…

ODPoet: Frida Salama
Country: Kenya

He said I am bipolar,
They believe it’s true,
I think I am just sensitive
To people getting on my nerves
Am usually moody,
Coz they cause it.

Yesterday I broke the window pane
With my treasured glass
In my anger fit.
And I wrestled my mother- in-law down
And screamed my head of,
Like a lunatic.
But am not always like that,
I am bipolar
Two minds, one body.

ODPoet: Mercy Mweti
Country: Kenya

Would I ever find love
With my wild imaginations
Ever rugged look
Ever wet torso
Confused gazes

Would I get a man
Who by me would stand
And understand my bouts of insanity
My reckless demeanor

Hold me tight through the night
Not afraid of my strong epileptic episodes
Hold my hand through day
Not ashamed of what they call ‘nuts’

This is not a plea of love
This is not a quest of acceptance
They are thoughts from my ‘cabbage’ mind

ODPoet: Apollo James
Country: Kenya

Gunny bag like backpack
A dirty polythene is his expensive linen
Clad on with four coats
Three half dropping coal black pants,
One on feet,the other on the knee and two tucked end of them meet on left side, waist and stake food smeared teeth
Smile to the unknown
At times the hysterical laugh
Deep conversations maybe
With imps,gypsies and trolls
And a stench all over
‘They like me no wonder
They keep staring and turning’ he thinks
Suddenly a damsel takes to her heels, and the madman man in wonder bolts after her
I need to assure though
HOW?

ODPoet: Phill Ibsen
Country: Kenya

Everyone seem to be on their own world,
Doing things I barely understand,
I was never taught to be wrong,
I hardly know what it means to be right,
My life is never complicated,
I guess that’s why I’m isolated.

Alone as I sit they stare,
As think as I am they sick,
So immense is my sense of humour,
Even at death I care less,
But they do care more,
To hide me locked in a dark room,
Then set me free when they’ve all gone.
I feel alone.

Today I bet it would be different,
I’ll do everything they want me to do,
Wear clothes not branches,
To make me seem as one,
To stare at myself in the mirror,
Like my brother does,
And walk out, say a word to the neighbour,
“GOOD MORNING”
I barely know how to,
But something goes wrong every day,
So they take me back to the dark room,
Stuffed, Locked away,
And all alone.

phillpoet.WordPress.com

ODPoet: Gomezga Chirambo
Country: Malawi

Will go to school later
Will bath later
Will wash my clothes later
Will make my bed later
I don’t see any reasons of doing them now
My instinct tells me to do them in future
Many voices I hear in my head
Some screaming
Others calling my name
I don’t know which one I should respond
That’s why I touch my head and cover my ears
To flee these voices that torment me

I feel like someone is chasing me
That’s why am sometimes seen running
Am chased that I But I believe am not cursed
Someone what’s to end my life
That’s why am this aggressive
Am preparing myself
To deal with that person too
My own shadow scares me
It increases my adrenaline levels
I opt for this corner as my home

ODPoet: Lisa Banda
Country: Malawi

I smoked too much,now I can’t think much,I was once famous,now I have no friend,I had fashionable clothes,now I wear leaves and rags,“dear stop marijuana”they said,I wish I had listened,but now its too late,mental disability my fate.

ODPoet: Prof. Graciano
Country: Nigeria

Sunken eyes; Gaseous tears,
Justifies your careless cares.
We roam in your prison
We’re reasons to reason reasons,
You reap from the breaking of our deals
You harvest the answers to our vigils.
Your nonsense, our fashion sense,
Our nonsense, your fashion sense.
We hear music even in car screeches.
You hustle for riches, we muscle our itches.
We snail our belongings
as we shudder at your inner longings.
Your can is Jerry and your queuing Tom.
So we sigh at your building pogroms.
We laugh remembering your stupidity,
while you gape at our nudity.
You still do not see it,
The world is vanity’s grit.

ODPoet: Sir Abten
Country: Nigeria

Cold, the cemented sidewalk beneath
his naked feet as he stride on to his end.
Cars and whistles scream at his path,
Was he deaf or very deep insane?

His unstained white reveals his restrain.
As I saw behind his eyes; a lost cause.
And his lips gave out little words saying,
” Don’t let your mind shut down “.

Mentally ill he was, not by nature,
But by deadly habits nurtured.

ODPoet: Joy Munde
Country: Kenya

Yesterday..
Each time I looked at him
All was well with him
I envied him from my place
I still remember seeing him at the front
While I dutifully warmed my own seat at the back
Years back when we in school
Class bonafide clown I was
Class walking encyclopedia he was
The perfect student we saw
A troubled soul he was..
Like a pressure cooker..
He kept it all in him..
Years after school..
The heat was too much
None could he take anymore
Like a chimney, all in him boiled out…

Today…
I still look at him from the counter as he wobbles towards me
Not with admiration but with pity
Daktari he calls me, colleagues we are
Coz he too is daktari…
I still wonder what went wrong
Whom did he harm
Bewitched by the evil seer others say
A curse from the gods seems to sway the rest
Pressure to meet perfection is what I think
He speaks of his long divorced and miserable sister
He mumbles of his cheating newly wed
He laments of his ungrateful n mean employer
He recalls his childhood dreams
N claims to be living the dream
Our dreams are valid..but really now??

Tomorrow..
How many will av to endure it all?
Life’s pressures all bottled in?
How long shall we lose best minds..
Just coz they couldn’t handle life as it is?
I av no answers to that..
But
I take it upon me
To talk..to spread love..
Be a friend to one..spread the joy
Teach all, make them all your pupil
Encourage a soul..uplift a soul..
Mental pressures leads to mental breakdown
We see them, we avoid them
They represent us
A section of us
Help out..
You don’t know about tomorrow..
Or do u??

🌹

ODPoet: Kelvin Mwangi
Country: Kenya

TORTURED SILENCE

¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶
                                                      None knows of that young soul astray,
who lost his ways. Pain, strains his effort in vain.                 
Names they pin on him, mad, retard, crazy,
yet no one feels his pain.                                                                                
Born this way all they give are stares,
his hands left bare.
Tattered clothes,
oozing saliva down his lips,
bare foot he walks
desolate of companionship.
They glare hard only few care,
he knows not right,
left still shows same way to him.
He yearns for comfort
yet they scamper when hands he stretches
for just a share.
Ooh silent soul.
Bleeding from stigma,
he knows no mother, brother or father.
He owns a world,
too scary to hold his hand
to even embrace and smile back to.
They bother not,
when he speaks they yell calling names,
his belly empty for he knows not they only give leftovers.
They say he is elsewhere,
he knows not peace for some laugh at his broken piece.
Tearing him up with intimidation
he only knows a world too lean
Too lean to let him rest his worries on.
Battered by despair,
hope in vain,
he cries to the world:
“What did I do to be left so alone?

To fill empty streets
with footsteps no one follows.”
Tortured silence whenever his being walks in.                                                                        He knows not any form of friendship
only soul whose worries rests
in a vast land that has his named with stains.
Pain despair, when will this wish he has
a medulla bulged with hope brim his face.                                                        
Pain a new way till his ways we live with.                               
Tortured silence behold my arms are waiting for you.            
I want to be with you.                                                           
FACEBOOK @ KAYVOH MAY MWAS.

ODPoet: Precious Katunga
Country: Malawi

“See they are coming,
Look she has a knife,
She wants my life,
Now I’ll start running!”
Hallucinations at its best

********

“I’ll fly like an airplane
Racing against birds
Ever jovial creature
And am the chosen one
To save you from gay ism
Corrupts governments
False prophets
Just wait be patient
For me to undress these filthy rags
I say goodbye to dusty bins
Don’t just run after me
Each time you see me
Take me to mental hospital !”
I arrest my delusions !

ODP™ Forever.

The Cry Of Terror

By: Our Daily Poetry Family

#ODP_Voices – Week Ten

[This is our story about the recent terror attacks in Africa and around the world. From the merciless bloodsheddings in Paris, France to the siege and killings in Bamako, Mali, not forgetting the suicide bombings in Cameroon and Nigeria. Many of our brothers and sisters have perished in the wrath of ISIS, Al Shabaab, Boko Haram and other terror groups. Will we just sit and watch as terrorism ruins our tourism and other industries in our countries?]

ODPoet: Erl Magapa
Country: Botswana

They came with guns blazing
Bombs dropping as they passed
The lives of my brothers they took
As they marched on in their victory

Mothers cried
Fathers held clinched fists
Crying to the sky
Why, why has this happened to us?

In the rubbles of their destruction
While the looming dust settled
We plucked flesh from the ruins
For we were the survivors of this terror attack.

ODPoet: Dee
Country: South Africa

The terrorists want us to live in fear and fright
They say we don’t have the will or resolve to fight
America is a “paper tiger” they all want to say
Her glory is over; she has seen her better days
Others in the past have made this mistake too
Those that have attacked our Red, White and Blue
They ignore our history of fighting for what’s right
Of protecting our freedoms with all of our might
We believe people should be free to choose
So this war on terror is one we cannot lose
We are a nation that will fight when we must
Terrorists will learn this when they bite the dust.

ODPoet: Phill Ibsen
Country: Kenya

Tucked to a corner so tight,
She pleads for her life,
With tears formed in her eyes,
She utters something along the lines of….
“Please, don’t kill my baby”
On my hand there is a gun,
With 200 rounds of ammunition,
Still shaking, my face covered up,
Around her she ain’t the only one,
I pity her,
I wander why she’s been at a wrong place,
Now she’s gonna be my kill,
She presses hard on her lips,
Eyes tucked tight in her eyeballs,
Shaking to pull the trigger,
Three shots to her stomach,
One shot at her head,
Boom!!!
Only to realize she’s been pregnant,
And I leave.

ODPoet: Prince Raphy
Country: Kenya

Can’t we stay in peace?
You’ve already made me homeless
Dislocating me from my mama’s land
Leave the grounds unfertile, away from being fertile
Am now, an unknown identity
Turned to survive as a refugee in my neighbouring country
I respect your religion, respect mine too
We serve a Living God
Lets shout out to that with big ups of love, humanity and peace
Don’t turn my world to be a living hell.

By: 🌴🌴Pr¡nce_raphy🌴🌴

ODPoet: Justin Wolf
Country: Kenya

My vivid memory haunts me
For I can’t rub it off my mind
At the mall with sister, on Sunday
We were smiling as we did shopping

Out of blues, came in six bullies
Brandishing guns, with masks
With a care less, bullets whizzed
Pandemonium rang alarm

I could see it behind the shelf
How three-quarter of happy shoppers
Lay down, dead after the ordeal
And my sister lay among the lost ones!

justinwolfprince.wordpress.com

ODPoet: Nicholas Kipchumba
Country: Kenya

Each moment we hear of Al Qaeda
Our blood boils,
Al Shabaab makes us shiver
We don’t know when and where they gonna land
All we know is that there gonna be a bloodshed and we gonna cry
At the back of our minds we see huge people,
Heartless and inhuman, their faces covered
Why do they hide their faces?
Because they are not people from far they are not our enemies of course your enemy cant hide himself while harming you but show themselves to you.
They are our brothers they are our friends who have chose to betray us because of a dollar.
Because of a dollar we kill our fathers, mothers and brothers sisters friends and children.
It’s me and you who will end terror attacks
Let’s say no to a blood shed for a dollar
Let’s not betray our innocent brethren.
Loyalty, love and sympathy with humanity will end terror attacks.

ODPoet: Bonanza Msowoya
Country: Malawi

Tick! Tick! Tick!
What type is this clock?
Three o’clock
Oh! sister don’t touch
With red light on
“BOOM!!
Memories at risk
Where is my left hand?
Where is you sister?
Mother’s tears dropping
In a blink of an eye
“Machine guns and Ak 47”
Shaking hands of left wing hospital
Showers of blood spraying
Like water in Shire river flowing
Innocent lives lost
Is this holy fight?
I guess not
These are just hypocrites
Greed for power
Hiding in religion
While causing cries of terror!

ODPoet: Joy Munde
Country: Kenya

~My Letter To Them~

Dear You,

I hope this letter finds u well, though I’m obliged to think that you are always well because in my time in hospital, I never met with you or the rest of your crew. I salute all of u for the work you all get to do, like just another good day at work. You know, works like mass destruction of property, mass deaths, inhumane killings, uncalled for religious tensions, separation of families, untold emotional and psychological pain, the visible pain we see, taking away of any hope left, mass exodus of citizens, infliction of fear, loss of faith in the rest of humanity, economical loss to the country…and the rest of all you do, guess my memory lapses at just the above.

When all this happens, I always imagine you going back from whatever holes and caves you always crawl out-home, carrying proudly your tools of work..AK-47s, grenades, hunter’s knives..and the rest that I may not know. In my head I see You going to sit under your favorite chill spot round a well lit bonfire..all of u chatting and catching up on your day at work. While at this maybe you toasting a glass or bottle of your favorite gin or beer and others may decide the puff is their best for unwinding after a very stressful day at work…

Ooohh forgive my manners, I know a bit of you and you know none of me. So lemme introduce myself or better still, remind you of me because we met one time while you were at work. It was a bright and beautiful Friday, and as usual on Fridays, mum would shout from the kitchen and remind me to be home early or else I would hear it from dad. I laugh but shout back I will be, though I know Dave and I will manage to be back around 5am..our earliest…we just loved Fridays because we had us to each other.
At school all was well and superb.. it turned out best wen the classes were cancelled and yesss..I knew at Dave’s place was to be.
Kim, the guard, with his beaming smile ushered me in. Tasha, at her desk, waved me in to Dave’s office, which I called cage.

BOOM!!
BOOM!!!
That signaled your day at work. Women screams I heard all over..men running up and being crushed by falling rubble..the smell of blood…
Then I saw you..in your black boots..covered faces…I saw you and you saw me.
Lying next to Dave’s motionless body..I heard the shots..pain sprung from my left thigh…my lower abdomen was on fire…the pain now increased and I passed out.

From the hospital bed I lay, finally awake after two days…couldn’t feel any part of me but glad I could see. Mum n dad sat on my bed, their eyes weary from all the tears they had shed..Kim I hear u shot him in cut off his head..Tasha is still missing, probably still at her desk..crushed by the rubbles..n Dave…he died in the attack…he bid the world farewell.
Today mum wheels me out to get the sun..am not in pain as before but still I’m in pain. I await my final surgery…three of them n still my leg is worst..now its amputation at the thigh.
Hope now you remember me..n Kim, n Dave, n Tasha…coz I can’t forget you.

Today I write this letter..my final letter to you. Today I put all the negativities..the hatred..the anger..I put them all aside from me. Today I decide to live my new life..not because you dictated so but because I say so.
To you, I don’t know what goes on in you but I forgive you. You claim it’s a holy war I say its cowardice and malicious act. I stand with the rest of humanity to end your reign of terror.. And I know it will surely end.
So with a smile on my face and renewed hope, with courage in my heart and love in me, I say to u…
Today I stand tall..in my wheelchair I still stand tall and stronger.
Your end is nigh!!

       Yours Faithfully,
       The New Me.
             🌹

ODPoet: Yashim Samson Usman
Country: Nigeria

Not as the wake of yester-dawn
Today, joy in snore distort
In thunderclaps of atom
And down the streets
Mums and kids
Like madmen in a race
Varying for no known place
Running
Bees off the trap
The temple next street born in shreds
Oh! What a heck, why all the mess?
Bore by nucleus faith for peace?
Impregnated, with sperms to ferment
Now, see the birth of your intercourse?
Body parts in shreds interred, caused
‘Daddy, please come’. The babies called
Gone, the home’s no more
Where are we running to?
Why do they hate us?
Why is our home destroyed?

ODPoet: Precious Katunga
Country: Malawi

“My head !”
“My hand !”
“My leg !”
“Mum !”
“Dad !”
“Sister !”

Thus a chorus by victims
As they run to nowhere

**********

So perplexed I am
What do you earn?
As you slaughter innocent souls?

ODPoet: Matolo Kyalo Jr.
Country: Kenya

Scared kids and horrified moms
Dead men and red floors
Deafening gun shots could be heard across the shopping hall
Sirens and frantic noises on the outside
They shoot to kill and claim it’s a holy war
They came for revenge and vengeance
Islam is love
Terrorism is hate
Twisted ideologies and wicked minds
Terrorism is corruption of the mind for human destruction
How then do we stop more blood from spilling?
Let the Christian dine with the Muslim neighbour
Let the Hindu boy go to school with the Buddhist girl
Let harmony and peace define us
Let’s fight radicalization and stand for morals that build our societies
Let love prevail.

ODP is a window to our modern society.

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ODP™ Forever.

Hope Beyond Fistula

By: Our Daily Poetry Family

#ODP_Voices – Week Nine

[This is our story about the women who live with fistula and a broken self-esteem. An Obstetric Fistula is a hole between the vagina and rectum or bladder that is caused by prolonged obstructed labor, leaving a woman incontinent of urine or feces or both. Women with fistula mostly avoid interacting with other people in the society for fear of being judged. In some communities, fistula is believed to be a curse. Can everyone afford to treat the fistula condition? How can we give these women hope?]

ODPoet: Matolo Kyalo Jr.
Country: Kenya

For more than five years now
She has been trapped in this predicament
She is afraid to talk about it
All day she stays in her house
Afraid that her friends will judge her
She has to change the sheets everyday
She has to do her laundry so often – it has become a burden
The long nights she spends crying
Wondering why this has happened to her
The illiterate villagers say it’s a curse for disobeying her mother-in-law
She almost believes them
She almost hates herself
Someone needs to tell her that it’s a medical condition
Someone needs to take her to a hospital
She deserves to be happy
There is a better day for women with fistula.

ODPoet: Prince Raphy
Country: Kenya

Smile made them happy mamas
Now they feel isolated in their ‘chamas’
From beds, now they are forced to sleep on the floor
More so on the veranda floor
They sit on the empty seats free from a comfortable cushions
Their free minds are full of stress
Thinking deep if their children will grant them hope and help
Some husbands denying to be husbands
Society shouting out loud that it’s a curse
Spreading rumour and gossip from hill to hill
How does one feel?
When she bleeds unknowingly
How does one feel?
When she misses her bed
How does one feel?
When she misses her conjugal rights
How does one feel?
When her Eden is turned to a place of hell
How does one feel?
When she has no hope of help
Let’s comfort the helpless
Keep them under medics
With hopes to recovery.

ODPoet: Salim Siddi
Country: Kenya

‘Fistula’, that’s what the medics call it,
A name that makes me shiver,
A nightmare I still extract,
A spell that no magic could break,
Not even by the witches of Sumba Wanga,
No sacrifice could please the angered gods.
A life full of shame and despair,
Abandoned by a husband who couldn’t stand the odor,
Wasn’t death more worthy than the sufferings?
I wondered.
A suffering that was too painful to bear yet too slow to kill .
I became an outcast even to the gods who couldn’t take my soul to ease my sufferings.
The doctors gave me new life,
They didn’t speak to the spirits for help but they did break the spell.
There is hope.
Yes! There is hope.

ODPoet: Tibonge Ngoma [Prisca]
Country: Malawi

The white sheet stained red
The fisi came and made me bleed
That was all culture
Mama said I had to go through it
I was only young
His seed planted in my immature womb
A baby boy for you I bore
The shame now I bear
As I change his diaper
I think of mine too
His buttocks need Vaseline smear
So do mine
He cries loudly for affection
I wail silently seeking world attention
In hope to reverse
The paid Jerusalem  leverage
In search for freedom from fistula bondage.

ODPoet: Joy Munde
Country: Kenya

The stench of uric acid fills the air and all I can wish for is to bolt away..
She walks past me and it’s her putrid smell that terrorizes my sense of smell
And oohh I get nauseated!
In a bid to find fresh air I rush towards the nearest open door
And at the doorstep I’m transfixed,
My purpose there quickly forgotten because now I see..

There they seat in their little cliques whiling away,
Probably of the outside world where they once belonged
There is where they feel safe
Safe from the likes of me who feel like we need to walk around with our oxygen tank
From us who see them as the cursed and punishment of mother nature
From us who treat them as if they are the eleventh and twelfth plagues of Moses
At the farthest end I see girls my age and I’m saddened
All I worry about is will I get a boyfriend or is my butt shapely enough
But they..they got their own kind of worries
The babies they fearfully clutch in their arms need them
The urgency they feel but can’t control weighs them further down
Their own age mates like me how we scorn and frown at them…
My thoughts are rudely interrupted by small children
They too suffer with their mums because they too are like outcasts
So at their tender age they too are rejects just like their mums.
The stench in the air I feel it no more
The pain in their eyes I see more clearly
To myself I wonder.. we who think we are better, safer, more blessed..
For how long will we be in that bubble
As I trace my way back
I just can’t stop thinking..
I too could be there..
My sister can be a victim..
My dearest mum ooohh she too can be a victim
I could av been one of the little boys there
Because the women there, they don’t choose that for themselves
But I wonder, why should we make them feel like it’s their fault?
Would you want to feel like a reject and be away from those you love and care for?
🌹

ODPoet: Morton Msowoya
Country: Malawi

~ Vows! ~

At peace or unrest
Till death do us apart
I take you as wife

Honeymoon!
In forest of love
Hunting feelings
Fulfilling desires

Jingle bells! Jingle bells!
Then Operation
Seventh month Baby born
Fistula!!

Relatives say am cursed Family diversion?
Husband Leaving for other women
As reason the bed stinks

Alone in house
Tears dropping
Hope fading
Where are the vows?
To hold hand in this cervical fistula?

ODPoet: Esther Msiska
Country: Malawi

~ Why ©Louisa ~

Six days ago my water broke
Pain, suffering is what I went through
But the thought of holding my child for the time
Having her turn and twist in my arms was my going to be my world

Sweat
A lot of sweat
Day two went
My baby wasn’t there still
It was still inside of me
Living in me
But it was clear to me
That it needed to come out
To be with me
To look into my ears
And know me

Day three
It was still not free
Neither was I
I felt my baby push out
I tried too
But it seemed there was a shield
That had booked the passage
I had cried and so had it
But no one came to rescue us both

Panting
A lot of panting
Breathing
My baby was not breathing
Day four I felt a nudge
In my womb
As if my baby was trying to communicate
The nudge went on
And on
It felt like an eternity
Pain
Too much pain
My baby was hurting
And so was I

Silence
Blood
Pain
Stench
Five days of labour
No baby still
No where to go

“Please come out”
That was my thought
“Ma needs to see you”
“Pa needs to hold you”
Come out
Come out
Six days
Come out

My baby
My baby
Not breathing
Not looking
Not warm
Just cold
Bloody
My child
The seventh day
You cry
Please try
My child
Cold as a sheet
Painful it is

My baby died
My womb was open
My mess
Too much stench am left with
Ha! Why won’t I die
The pain unbearable
Did my husband have to leave?
Secluded I am
I blame my child!
What disease am I left with
Please save me.

ODPoet: Gomezga Chirambo
Country: Malawi

~ WHETHER FISTULA OR NOT, I STILL LOVE HER ~

For the past two years I married her
I will always stick by her side
Nursing the baby  we have
And the stinking wound between her legs
She looked pale I know
But she still is beautiful
Society laughs at me
Saying am part of  the demons she posses
My own parents disown me
They think am captured by charms
She is my wife
For better for worse
That was my vow I made to God
The drugs given by the doctors I know they will work
They are effective
The wound will heal
I cannot leave her now
She needs me the most
She will be well I know
I believe so
In a space of few months she will be on her feet.

ODPoet: Precious Katunga
Country: Malawi

Without my consent
She sold me, your grandmother
Stalled a burn in my oven your father
But you resisted to come out
And marked my virgin birth
I didn’t hold you in my hand
Laughing stalk I became
As diapers for myself I changed
She disowned me
He ran way
And you’re not here at least to remove my shame!

ODPoet: Karen Silas
Country: Kenya

Am the child who caused hell,
They say the womb which carried me was cursed,
I was a bad omen,
After my birth, she just smelt rotten,
To many, the smell from dead bodies was better,
She could not walk or work,
Nobody liked a lazy woman,
Words and looks drove her away,
With no hope,
Doctors could do nothing about it,
No machines, drugs only available for they who got heavy pockets,
She was just a peanut.

If cameras and filters never lie,
She was the most beautiful woman,
Only after my appearance to the world,
She became the reason for a heated story,
Rejected by the rib she came from,
Death justified her worries,
She is gone,
She died of stigma not fistula.

ODPoet: Dee
Country: South Africa

The Breaking Wheel
How does it feel?
To be a girl,
And to bleed,
Whenever we create
Something beautiful.
The dunce cap
Fills the void;
Where the crown should be.
Life grew
And fed, from these breasts
Now ripped apart,
Pieces of shame.
Judas’s Cradle,
Destroyed our flesh.
Left us humiliated, it has taken so many loved ones,
Some knew about it but they could not do anything about it because the system has sidelined them
It feels like a mainstream condition now,
It prides in itself,
Look at the trail it leaves behind
It’s survival depends on the tears of the one who are left behind
We can talk about and of gender equity
Girl child first, women empowerment
It’s all nothing but hallucinations until we deal with the silent killer
Taking coumflage in the light
Using its sting on innocent souls
It’s time to stand up tall and paralyze fistula
We are the antidote to its venom.

ODPoet: Wakaba The Poet
Country: Kenya

His, He

‘His’ words: “irresponsible”
Dig into her very bone,
Destroying every grain of strength marrow.
Sharp pain, as of a sharpened
Ritualized arrow-head,
From the brain down her spine,
Stress crushing.

Her heart
Shred in uncountable pieces,
Blood boiling, disappointed, she is deeply hurt.

How could ‘He,’
How could ‘he,’ of them all, understand not?
Or how could ‘he’ pretend not to?
***
How could God allow  these?
****
This sickness; fistula ‘He’ knew,
Not her wish.
With this uncontrolled ,
Uncommon,ungodly outflow,
*World no longer a place of mine*

Just but what to do
And what to do not.
Thoughts a gazillion, speak loud.
She has to live
For ‘him,’
For ‘him’ and hers; their children’s happiness.

But…
Crossing the road
Right, left and again right
Not of her interest,
The Speeding vehicle,
Blue murder scream, boom!!!
Darkness…silence…

From an opening in the distant clouds, calls a voice…
“Welcome to a stress-free home…
The world of your dreams…”

©wakaba the poet.

ODPoet: Yashim Samson Usman
Country: Nigeria

~ Only If I Can~

Only If I can, I would hold the hour hands of time nudge to every click
That all may see A gladden dream with him reversed.
I would, only if I can baptize this stench of mine
And our honeyed moon scent remain only, would I Chase this monstrous VVF  Stopping you take a breathe of mine.
My baby’s birth was to come with joy
Prolonged was the labour;
I bore a hole.
How and why now
Are my dreams destroyed?
I like our precious hyper Hourly change of diaper
To many, I’m now an outcast I’m called rotten
And like refuse off the clean
I am forbidden.
I would only if I can forever lie asleep
If this be a dream
I would, Only if I can.

ODP™ Forever.

Street Kids: Who Will Save Us?

By: Our Daily Poetry Family

#ODP_Voices – Week Eight

[This is our story about the thousands of street children living in our towns. They find themselves in these hopeless places with nobody to rely on. Do they really deserve to suffer in the rain and cold of these ruthless streets? Where are their parents? What should we do for streets kids to have a better life?]

Esther Msiska from Malawi says:

~I Have A Voice ©Louisa~

I have a voice but it is never heard
They say it is too little to make sense
What with it being used for “would you share me a dollar”
They say it sounds senseless and I look stupid
But do you think I have no mind about the economy
Do you think I have no right to choose my president
Or maybe to go to school and show interest.

My home is a veranda
You can only find me there at night
Because during daytime am deprived of it
With the owners saying I gather them disgust.

Matolo Kyalo Jr. from Kenya says:

Today I met three little boys
They blocked my way as I headed to school
With teary eyes and tattered cardigans
They stretched out their small palms
Black from scavenging for food in the town bins
I drop a twenty shilling coin on one of the little palms
And I tell them to share.

Someone left these boys on the streets..
Someone ran away from their responsibility..
I wonder where these boys live
Do they run home after the last bell?
Do they have dreams for the future?
Do they have ambitions?
Who do they look up to?

My only wish is for these little boys to have a smile on their faces,
A better life.

Precious Katunga from Malawi says:

As a cheetah for its prey
Each day pain knocks on my heart’s door
Never will I reverse the situation
Like spilled milk
Darkness paint my future
Am here under the tree
A rope round my neck
After I waited long for my own breathe
To become my choke hold
” I’ve a little sister ”
I recall
But should i go back to him ?
May be should I acquaint with street kids again ?

He came as a savior
Later unveiled my innocence
Yet as his third granddaughter I am
Should I go for revenge ?
Or usher a forgiveness ?
Or to get my sister back ?

Frida Salama  from Kenya says:

~ ALL THEY NEED IS LOVE ~

Ever seen those boys  across the street
Those that throw dirty words at you as you pass,
Throwing dirt at your car
Or waiting to nick your phone?
All they need is love.

And that man sitting near your fence,
Who carries dirty bags,  soils your white washed fence?
His eyes burn like a furnace,
His body ready for a fight?
All he needs is love.  

And that woman roaming at the shops, 
Who shuts you off with insults
From her mouth drips poison?
Her clothes are dirty,
Her body unwashed
A hoard of kids trailing her?
All she needs is love.

Graciano from Nigeria says:

The worst hit be the sun’s heat.
The lost seat of the bum of bombs.
We have tears for cosmetics;
Cold belly for a sumptuous meal.
We wear the night breeze as a blanket.
We’re the cold soldiers:
Don’t you hear the clashes of our teeth?
Though our teeth clash on,
We match on!
Our faces defoliage
Our paces encourage
you that you’re doing quite well.
You do well because we bore holes
We bore holes on the beautiful contours of your street.
Your street; Our home.
We’re the street kids
We’re the cold soldiers.
Though our teeth clash on,
We match on! 

Prince Raphy from Kenya says:

He came from a far land
Beyond the horizon
Young innocent and helpless
He stared with teary empty eyes
A reflection of the cruelty of  the fate that kissed his life
Humbled yet humiliated by the eyes that rushed by
Judged him for his filthy clothes
Yet he lingered on the four corners of the streets

In the carelessness of the night
Two lovers held hands
In the carelessness of the moment
Intimacy was initiated
No soul cared about the consequence
As they laid arm in arm
An innocent creature was made into form
In the heart of the summer news spread
Beyond the winds a bird uttered
A heart broke in the process
The fruits of rejection

She sat beside the road
In utter amazement
The love that blew her away took
Left a bitter taste in the mouth
Now she has to face the reality
Carrying inside her unwanted creature
Abandoned and rejected
She made decisions
Cowardly decision on abandonment
At the end of the journey
An innocent soul was abandoned
In the middle of the streets
He would call home for the rest of his of his life
Hoping to have a home but the street turns to be his home.

Sir Abten from Nigeria says:

We were called LEADERS,
Yet we wander poor in our streets.
We were called TOMORROW,
Yet we are the regrets of the elites.
Broken, their promised promises;
That made our ears stand
And our lips dance in delight.

We were called STREET KIDS,
Because we share class with waste bins.
We made fancy, the rags of the rich,
We were called ABANDONED,
Because today laid upon us pity.

Karen Silas from Kenya says:

They feel I do not have a home,
Too bad they way blind to see,
They call me a true definition of poverty
Today I choose to take them around my house

Welcome to my big bedroom
This floor is is my best high density mattress
The cold my warmest blanket
Oh! Am on my clothes they not rags
Look,the pit there,is my fridge packed with all sorts of meals,
So sweet and delicious,
It’s my world,

You feel am miserable
But am better here than a house built of hatred
You walk past me with cold faces
Feeling am a thief,
You wrong, am a child rejected by my blood accepted by a cruel world.

Miss Word(Silva)  from Nigeria says:

~ SEE MY TEARS ~

Kicking the dust off with extreme anger
Rolling the earth with passion worst than pain
Down on the floor, down on my knees
Cried to the soil, earth and to heaven
“Please see my tears”

In rivulets of salty stream
Its cascading down with no brake
From the pit of my belly to the apex of my eyes
Sent forth by the growling worms
See my eyes cols like ice
They shed tears with temperature against the norms

Born of your own count and blood
One of your kind one of a kind
Born with a silver spoon? No I lost the spoon
Street kid I be, hungry I be
Feel my streaming face tortured by my worms
Fill my plate, compliment of your purse
Down, look me not
Up, you’ll see me there

® Miss Word

Zan Prince from South Africa says:

Big dreams in torn clothes
Dreams dreaming of buffets
While eating from empty plates
Cold winter nights inflicted into cold bodies
Summer heat burning skins
Even the rain can not afford to cool
So I wonder
How they ended up there?
Who is their fathers and mothers?
What happened to their homes?
For I see tomorrow drowning
In these streets which excrete pain
It turns red as the traffic light
As they beg for a penny
From those cruising in shining chromes
Some day they get lucky
If they meet a touched heart
Which understands before it judges
Some day they are met by ignorance
As luxurious windows are rolled up
By princes and princesses

Some, pass through needles eyes
From the dirt the rise to shine
That’s if the streets never swallow them
And their dreams.

Joy Munde from Kenya says:

The rest of the world admires me for my success..
I move n shake with each step I make..
All I touch turns to gold n thus all wanna be me..
Deep in my heart I’m pained, scarred, wounded.. I lack…

On the streets I see scruffy, dirty n almost out of health little boys and In my pain I wonder..
Could that be my Junior, where can I find my son??
At 17 n heavily pregnant; mike my love nowhere in sight..
Dad the deacon want hear of such..
Mum in heaven, why did u leave me…
Here I am..the best is to have baby but leave him near the bus stop…
Now I seek thee my son in hope of attonning for my deeds..
You are meant to be with me… You have a mother..
I am your mother…
My heart is scarred with your absence..
Know I’m after you son, and I regret why I left you
I’m coming for u sonnie.

Gyan The Poet from India says:

I preached over biggest issues of the era
But missed to realize the dooms herald
Tonight I realized this problem of my town
Values of toys are falling down
Issue is, they vanished from poor families
Since kids go out to bring salaries.

While in era of industrialization
Million dollar job is turning our passion
Before we go around this development
Let’s consider a simple tangent
There is a need to look at innocents
Since little fingers are necessary
For our giant hands.

http://www.facebook.com/gyanthepoet

Kayode Afolabi from Nigeria says:

The street is our home
Our shelter
Our abode
While you slumber in your homes
We are on the street striving to survive
We hustle hard for our daily meal
It’s either we eat or we get eating
A victim of fate
We are seen as rejects
Treated like pests
Shut out into cold of the nights.

Apollo James from Kenya says:

Walking huskily
In a street full of life and perfume
On lamine and tarmacked lanes
On paths aligned with loyal palms
Clad in sparkling raiment, glossy shoes, expensive tops, high held gait, and knowing turn heads.
Munching potato chips, chewing gums
Holding a bottle of mineral water,or maybe coke, or maybe milk pack and a tech cell.

   ********************

Suddenly, there stared an urchin; red eyed, cracked lips,bare shoulder,oversized brown pants with one side shorter than other,skunky smoke singed hair
A pressed (probably collected) bottle,yellow with sniff ‘conta’ glue
A slurry speech, an unsure attempted approach,
On cracked bare blackened little feet
Maybe this gaily dressed will listen
‘Ten shillings please’ or
‘Ten Naira please’ or
‘A rand please’ or
‘A dollar please’ or
‘tut mir leid, ein shilling’

   ********************

As if stung by a wasp,
A half scared, half stunned gaily dressed spin round
Scans the half hungry
Who probably ate from a bin
Of stale meat along with mongrels, crows and city rats
And in finality and unapologetically, in hard grit jaws,hard eyes exclaims
‘No not now’
And in bigger strides walk on, closely followed
By half-walking,half-running Hungry,shabby clad,thin lad
Uttering almost inaudible”pleases”
Who suddenly gives up and hopefully turns elsewhere
With tears stinging,and glue on lips, probably the only solace.

Gomezga Chirambo from Malawi says:

I was born in the streets
Raised by it
All the corners of it are my home
In the dustbin is where I find my daily bread
Strangers perceive me in the way they like
Due to the dirt that covers my body
And the smell that identifies me
Many a paper I have signed
From those who call their selves well wishers
They send pictures and proposals outside the continent
In the name of helping street kids
They are rich now
They promised the moon but the Sun is all we get
Is anyone out there who will promise the moon?
And give it to us with plenty of stars?
I wonder.

                *        *        *

Let’s hang out again next week as we talk about a brand new topic concerning our communities.

Never miss a group poem by ODP_Voices. Like us on Facebook. Click on >> Our Daily Poetry

Chao  🙂

ODP™ Forever.

Bride Price In Our Communities

By: Our Daily Poetry Family

ODP_Voices – Week Seven

[This is our story about the dowry paid for the women in our traditional settings. How much is a woman worth? What is considered when paying the bride price? Are some women more expensive than others?]

Akello Charlotte from Uganda says:

~Gift To The Girl’s Family~

Won’t you learn to cook,
Whose son will even waste his money on you?
Girls ought to dress this way
Don’t dare anger that rich man’s son
Nurtured to accept
That one day we will be sold off
Or given in exchange of gifts

Given off for a herd of cattle
Weighted according to our beauty
Or our education
Or the ability to do house chores
Yes, because a girl is now belonging to another family
But don’t they matter anymore?
Does going away to make a family make her less of a daughter?
Or should they(family) always dictate
Her worth to her new family,
For a gift is a choice.

charlotteakello.wordpress.com

Yashim Samson Usman from Nigeria says:

You don’t ask the family how much
It’s like saying she’s livestock
You’d say you’ve seen a lady you like so much
And has come to present your heart’s touch
“For a head to be made bride, no one pays all.
A blanket for dad
A goat for mum and Kolanut for kinsmen.
These will make us all one” They will say,
One provides the listed
Weighing his own strength Can go further the length
For one’s offsprings are grandkids of bride’s kinsmen
They lean on the bride’s kinsmen and are straightened holding a hen.

Cyburg from Kenya says:

They told me to bring hundred sacks of rice
So I brought and her family raised the price,
She is educated and also her cooking is nice,
It’s never paid in one trip was told to come thrice,
My bags were eaten by mice,
They claimed just as one crossed the room twice
Just leave it to fate throw the dice,
Her uncles urged what I think is vice,
You would just keep off it would be wise
My uncle’s words as cold as ice
We cant give what we don’t have,
Wish you were my niece
the bride price  wouldn’t increase
To fit into her kin’s insatiable crease.

Lawrence Gitonga (lee-yo) from Kenya says:

That woman for me dad
Mama said she fits me fine
I solicited her to mariage,
And today I plight my troth to her
I want to end the boredom
I want mama to have grandchildren
I want to marry her
The daughter of teacher Karanja
Wambui.
And today I want a hand
Take me to her parents
And pay the marriage portion.

Parent appreciation
Yes.
A bull or two won’t work
She recently graduated from University of Birmingham
She is expensive
Regardless, I want her
My love for her is true
Her beauty beyond bounds
Anything for her
Take this money
Add to the bulls
Then make me posses her
She isn’t for free
She is expensive
By that I will take good care of her
Because I know her worth
Then the two families merge,
Making one.

Joy Munde from Kenya says:

At the crossroads is where I stand
At one end I see the angry community, on the other is my Asian love
If our love was forbidden then I guess the dowry negotiations are jinxed
Khan and clan wants gold, real gold
Dad and kinsmen want their own gold, in form of cows
To be with Khan I must avail their gold but dad won’t hear of such
So he makes me choose…
Either Khan or mum and dad
At this crossroad I stand moving forward
I don’t know which road I will take but I still move on…
As I move I ask, what’s the real meaning of dowry?
Who is worth more to get dowry?
Is it me or my Khan??
My eyes sting with tears as I drag my feet forward
Behind I feel eyes pierce my back with each forward step I take and I realize am stuck
Will it be dad n the kinsmen I turn to,
Or will I drag my feet to my one and only love???

Karen Silas from Kenya says:

I wake earlier than usual
To follow my traditional norms
My life partner would be showing to know what he will give to have me
My spirit so high, am leaving  to start my family!
My parents call our kinsmen
Dressed in ‘vitenges’, smoking and drinking from the same pot
May be it’s unity or they’re grabbing opportunity.

The visitors come
My bride price is way high
The kinsmen show them my fee reports, hospital bills, am a master holder
They need money, I don’t consider it bride price
They need my love to refund the money they used on me
Too bad he cant afford it
He waves me bye and leaves
I know my relationship has been broken by an inappropriate dowry😒😒😒

Justin Wolf from Kenya says:

The bride is too young, twenty heads of cattle I’ll pay
The girl has never seen a book, I can’t offer any more
Does she know how to prepare my favourite pepper rice?
Two heads of ewe I’ll add you for teaching her that.

Will she be sewing my torn trousers after drunk fights?
For that I’ll top up one head of ram in the bride price
But what if she forgets to wake up early before me?
Will you return me one horn of that big bull I’ll offer?
And the evening she’ll boil my bathing water too hot
Will you take back your untrained girl, my elders?
And return my hard earned for head of cattle?
What if we divorce, will you pay me back my herds?  

Precious Katunga from Malawi says:

Of all things
Only pay back this share
Wasn’t fifteen but twenty cattle 
Keep your excuses for tomorrow
I need no one anymore
You knew she had a mile left
Yet you squeezed her into my home
Later compensated me with two under eighteen brides
Mind you am in early thirties
Is this marriage ?
Or you are just greedy?

Frida Salama from Kenya says:

~Mijikenda Bride Price Ceremony~

Let us all gather, clansmen
To witness our daughter’s ‘malozi’.

Let the bride parade here so they see the beauty they are getting,
She can cook ‘ugali’, she can cook ‘kikosho’
She has manners, look at her humble face,
Now lay down your price,
How much do you have?

Bring the mat,
For the money to be put on,
Father must have a suit,
Mother must have a lesso, a dress and ten thousand shillings
And lessos for the aunts,
Hey, did you come with a goat?
Give us the money we will give you the goat.
Bring palm wine, four gallons
For a Chonyi marriage without wine means
The children are for the woman.

Now let the bride price ceremony commence,
Let’s name the price,
Then lay the money down on the mat,
Wait, it’s not complete,
Bring the rest in the next two moons, a time like this,
Now let the aunt tie it in her back,
In the lesso she was given
Let her dance in the compound,
Breaking to a song,
The family is united now,
Now we can eat and get drunk,
The family has increased.

KipNic Marus from Kenya says:

They say I should pay for you,
Am I buying you to be mine and never again theirs?
Six more cows because you were educated, wasn’t I educated?
They say you were taken good care of, wasn’t I too taken good care of?
That they’ve invested heavily on you, didn’t my parents also invest on me?
They say your beauty makes you more expensive, do you mean am an ape?
It’s like I desperately need you, don’t you need me too?
That I must pay to prove I love you, then pay me also too to prove you love me too
If it’s all about payment, why a herd of livestock to have you?
That wasn’t our promise.
We needed each other.
I don’t have even a single goat but I need you to be my wife
Its upon you to choose now, between livestock and me.

Priya Kloze from Kenya says:

You say I have to be paraded before my in-laws
So they’ll see my beauty
See that am worth a lot
That I am a good cook
And can make a good wife.

But Papa,
Can you convince me that am worth the cattle you’ll get?
The clothes?
The money?
The goats?
Was it not you who told me I was priceless?
What changed that?
Am moving away, to start a family,
Will the dowry you get replace me?
Will it fill the void in your hearts? Or that in mine?
Papa tell me, am I worth so little?

Yes, I am educated
Pretty yes,
Well taken care of by you and momma
Well mannered
And the best wife one could need..
But father, all this cannot be bought,
I refuse to be an item for trade
I love my Kabu but he cannot pay for me
He can definitely not buy me or my love
Please pappa, ask him for no payment, let him bring a token of appreciation

Afolabi Kayode from Nigeria says:

There is a girl I admire
In me she ignites a fire
With her I want to build an empire
I rely on her like a pillar.

It was love that shamed every lust
Her looks makes me get lost
No other comes first
In her I trust.

Her value can’t be quantified with cash
But am told to pay her price
If truly I want the bride
They won’t give her to me no matter how much I cry
Despite how hard I try
I couldn’t afford her
I work day and night
All for naught.

Moemedi Tebogo from Botswana says:

The bride price is a cultural call
A token of appreciation above all
Given to the bride’s family for nurturing such a rose
Traditionally the marrying families negotiate for the price
As societies are blinded by culture from seeing realities of the price
The strings attached to the price
Open your eyes or let me do it
Let me unfold the carpet
See the naked truth beneath.

The value of a woman can never be equated to eight cows
A woman is like a tree of life
Her polite devotion is her greatest beauty
Let me tell you
Bride price is an affirmation of male dominance
It is the pillar on which patriarchy stands tall
See now the tag on a woman’s worth
Negotiated in her absence
How it turns into her wrath
Aftermath of paying the price the groom behaves like he is the Supreme Being of the family Enters the sad reality
The birth of abuse
‘why do you think i paid the price’
Open your eyes or let me do
The bride price is a cultural blindfold
To put women underneath.

ODP™ Forever.