25/12/2024
𝗟𝗔𝗕𝗢𝗥 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗡𝗦 (12 years ago, I was experiencing labor pains on Christmas eve)
Mama said every experience
was different.
Every woman wore a contrasting
narrative that hang over their
shoulders like an anchor.
Eve's curse was a fictitious tale.
The serpent was just another
stiff ego.
I reluctantly dined with the
ancestors on the night of
the blood moon.
Flirted with the earth.
Felt the forces of gravity as
passion splattered like rain
drops on the ground.
I saw my body take another
form in the cosmos.
Eyes brimming with joy.
Spirits United in a tribal dance.
Thoughts escaped through
the vents of my mind like
exasperation as he planted
his seed and oiled the lantern
for the christening.
The elders converged with
dry lips and botched bellies
for the gossiper's feast.
The old priest swore it was
a demonic attack.
Ancient hyena tales and ritual
texts dominated the night
as marwa spilled out of the pot.
The moon scanned out my
faded nubile body.
Swollen breasts; and a belly
the size of a watermelon.
Hot coal eyes splashed
deceptive stares as the
leaves rustled.
Mama said every woman had
a different experience.
I felt the universe braid my
intestines and grab my gut.
I was like that car with a
mechanical problem- stuck
in the middle of Jinja road
traffic on a rainy day.
9 months felt like a century.
Like climbing a steep hill on
a windy day.
Nauseated and exhausted.
The life inside leapt for joy.
Sunken eyes and forced laughter.
The doctor says I'm healthy.
Swollen legs, and tired feet.
Woman! You need to exercise.
Mama said it wouldn't hurt so much.
The internet lied about everything.
Eyes as wide as an owl.
Biting lips and restless arms.
Outside room, 2013, reality broke
and I was named a lunatic.
Screeching like a banshee.
Legs spread out like a futon.
Clutching hospital sheets
like straws.
Cursing the walls for bearing
witness to this shameful
adoration.
I served the world a plate of
insults.
Frustrated; I adequately wore
the face of a battered Uganda
under dictatorship until the
anesthesia numbed
my body and the fresh breath
of life rested in my arms.
Another Muzukulu.
They say that the rain
represents Mother Earth's tears.
Mama! It rained heavily today.
The Shea Nut tree seated
outside grandma's house
just bore fruit.
The Unapologetic Poet-
My daughter makes 12 tomorrow. ❤️
Yes! She looks like me.
Hopefully next year I can have another child. 🤣🤣
