Just a short walk from my door
Resides a white fat lady.
Her husband is black, like me
But I have a story to tell.
Just like her. Her cubs are chubby.
Overweight with complacency
And utterly boastful.
She claims her children
To be of the best breed ever.
I laugh, and tears come out
Many years before my birth,
The children of the fat lady came to our house.
The looted it out,
Ransacked it, stole from us.
Yes, the fat lady’s children did that.
My mother was left sore.
Her seed was taken from her.
She was left with almost nothing,
But she survived.
The fat lady next door,
Her story so easy to tell.
I even marvel at her offspring.
She’s made fat her tummy,
From the sweat of my mother’s children.
She shouts orders, makes rules.
She plans even for my household.
And what’s worse,
She dumps her junk
At my backyard.
She has married a man of my color.
She is now growing ever resilient,
And she just won’t shut up.
Fat lady next door.
I know all that you’ve done.
I shall not share in your plunder,
I will not wear your silk, drink your milk
Or even learn your ways.
I will sulk in the bush still,
Just like how we were,
When you first came to our house.
Kofi Anane Kyeremeh
@author, what inspired this piece?
ReplyDelete@reader, what feelings does this piece invoke in you?
Kofi once again doing us proud - i am liking this here both content and the manner in which its presented...
ReplyDeleteMy mother shall live strong - yes my mother shall breathe long!!
Keep em coming . . .
To answer you, Vuyo, I think I was peeved about the way those from the Western part of the earth thought of themselves. I wanted to put across the notion that everything about civilization and humanity started from our beautiful continent, then the Fat lady just cam to plunder.
ReplyDelete