Tuesday, 13 March 2018

My kind of dawn

It was dawn,
Probably around 4am,
I was in my bedroom and I was woken up by gunshots,
I was woken up by the sound of men singing and running,
These men were running towards our hut,
I was terrified so I woke up and told my husband to wake up,
He was tired from farming all day the previous day,
I was terrified so I told my three children to get up,
They were all in deep sleep, it was exam week and it usually made them very tired,
Before I even got to my oldest child's room,
I heard a man in a loud voice hit my door Bum! Bum! Bum!
"Open up or I will set this structure on fire!"

My husband was wide awake,
He did not hesitate to open up the door,
Immediately he did, they shot him, not once, not twice but 8 times on his chest,
I fainted and the next time I woke up,
I was in a thatched house,
Young men staring at me and asking me how it felt,
To wake up in a new place,
A place away from my village,
"Where are my children?" I asked.

The smell of rotten meat hit me,
The smell of fresh blood hit me,
The cold floor I lay on was dump, wet with what smelled like urine mixed with blood and water,
There were maggots feeding onto what seemed like a foetus
"What is this?" I thought..
All this time the  young men old enough to be my oldest son's age stared down at me.

They were 12 in number,
I had the time to count them because I was conscious,
Each man touched me inappropriately,
Told me to remove my clothes,
They raped me until I became unconscious,
The next time I woke up,
I was still in the same place,
This time with two young girls who were uncosnncious,
They were bleeding and I thought they were dead until,
One  of the young men brought cold water and poured it on all of us,
Told us to behave like women and stick to our role,
Our role of staying awake and ready until any of the men is hungry for our bodies,
And that if they were all hungry at the same time we would have to handle the pressure.

Dusk came and three men came by,
One of the girls was too week to do anything and so they talked to me,
asked me to cut her hand because she did not need it and anyway,
It would be fun to watch blood dripping off a young girl's wrist,
He held a knife to my neck,
A clear sign that I had to do it but I refused.
He cut off my index finger,
He then cut off my thumb,
Cut off my middle finger and left me there for dead,
He later came and raped me.

It's 4 months now,
I do not have 3 of my  fingers,
my belly is slightly swollen,
Indeed I am expecting a baby but who is the father?
They come at midday and rape me again,
Tell me they do not want another mouth to feed so they give me a bitter drink to drink,
It's dawn, I give birth to what seems like a thick lump of blood,
My baby is dead.
My 3 babies are missing,
My husband is dead,
I am trapped inside this place,
I am a sex slave,
I am sick and I have no-one to talk to.

One day I escape,
I come to a country called Enya,
They give me an identity number,
They call me an asylum seeker,
They later call me a refugee,
How do I pick up from here?
What next for me?

72 + 24

Sometimes I have so many thoughts in my mind,
Sometimes I want to express everything,
All at once...sometimes I think that if I was a painter maybe..
I would draw all my feelings and..
Probably explain how I feel in one glance,
But I am a poet,
The only way out is poetry,

How then do you explain 72 + 24 hours of productivity,
72 + 24 hours of staring at your laptop and doing nothing really related to your ultimate goal,
Then sinking into what I like to think is temporary depression when it's too late to fix anything,
 Too late to beat the deadlines as they already passed.

 Do you ever know what exactly you need to do?
How you need to do it but nothing inside you really wants to do it?
Not to say it is not important,
If anything, it is what you need and must be doing,
When there's simply no motivation at all,
I hate to call myself lazy but is this what lazy is?
But God knows, I have giant dreams and I take steps towards them,
 I am such a go-getter it scares me at times and I..
Look at myself like a spectator making steps in the right direction but...
Seasons like these, when I want to do nothing...
They depress me and make me want to do nothing with me...

 I don't want to die without ever having really lived.
I'm Christian so I pray for a better way to manage myself.

Friday, 29 December 2017


"Is there a chance I could die from a broken heart?" She asked.
"Is there a chance I could drown in my tears and never wake up?"
"Is there a chance that the redness in my eyes could make me go blind or that I could choke from my clogged up throat due to the tears I cry?"
The doctor seemed to be filling up some forms, paying little attention to her while she desperately leaned towards him, seeking to find answers from this older trained physician.
"The pain I feel is physical, is there a chance that you have pills for this?
"Is there a chance that I could get burns from the heat in my mind, from the raging thoughts in my mind?" She asked, tears streaming down her cheeks as she walked towards the door to close it properly just so no nurse got in.
"Is there a chance that my heart will stop because of the trauma from loving someone who never loved me back?"
Finally, the doctor was done and he sat down, pulled out an old book,
a yellow highlighter and highlighted these worlds:

“Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.

Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.”
-Khalil Gibran

Monday, 18 December 2017


Fell in love with a nurse,
She wanted to kiss him but,
He said his mouth was dirty and,
She would get sick if she did.

Fell in love with a nurse,
He told her about the sleep cycle so,
She started sleeping less and,
She would wake up tired but fine.


She stayed away for a reason,
She knew this would happen,
She did not want this season,
To come by because she knew all too well,
What becomes of her when she takes the chance.

She stayed away for a reason,
She saw the fire in his eyes,
She let it consume her for just a while,
But lit off with her frozen thoughts,

She stayed away for a reason,
She knew that if she fell,
There was no way to recovery,
If a way existed, it would take away everything,

She stayed away for a reason,
She knew too well she was vulnerable,
She knew she would be completely unable,
To go back to being composed,
In charge and in control,

She stayed away for a reason,
But it was not too long before that season came,
When she did not want to stay away,
She wanted to stay around,
but he stayed away instead,
He had conquered.


Pause just a bit my heart,
Wait for him to make a move.,
wait for him to take a look,
wait for him to look at you,

Pause just a bit my heart,
Don't fall for him just yet,
Don't think he cares just yet,
Don't expect anything just yet.

Pause just a bit my heart,
Observe, learn and understand,
His ways, the things he cannot stand,
His eyes, on what do they land?
His soul, what does it yearn?

Tuesday, 12 December 2017


 She  liked him a lot,
She knew he liked her too,
The way he stared at her,
The way he never showed signs of getting tired of her,
When they spent time together,
The way he said in plain language that he thought she looked good, beautiful,
She still didn't know how he thought that she was beautiful without her braids on,
You know the long black ones that reach just above the waist,
Synthetic braids braided on her own black short hair,
They would easily pass for her own hair you know,
It had just been 3 months since she shaved off her hair,
A decision she made to symbolize some fresh beginning,
She'd promised herself that she'd love herself a little bit more.

It still strikes her that he thought she was beautiful with her nail polish chipped,
You know how you do laundry and it chips off ,
How could he think she was beautiful,
With all the cues he got of what a mess she was....inside and outside,
You know, he visited her house twice and every time he would peep into her bedroom,
See the huge pile of clothes that she forgot to fold because,
 She was too busy fixing her kitchen and sitting room for him to see,
For him to notice that she's close to perfect,
And he was not making  any mistake,
And both times ,
after staring long at the mess she was trying to hide,
He would say to her...
"You're delightfully chaotic,
Loving you is a splendid adventure"
Embarrassed but happy she would think,
How could he see beauty in such a raw form of my being?