#125. Floetry by JulietKego: Maina’s Message for Mama

RT: @ObyEzeks “OUR of Mbalala village IS BACK!!!!!!! because ” – Twitter, May 18, 2016

 Maina’s Message for Mama

I am a little girl lost,

from Chibok.

I am the core

stench of my nation’s

festering,

rotten sore.

Ever since that night,

I dream of my mama

In dreams that I dream

of the dreams

that I dream,

as I lay here,

curled up,

on the hot,

harsh harmattan sands,

mourning

a fading away of dreams…….

 

I dream of my widowed,

wounded mother, 

I see her

under the iroko tree

in the village square,

our special spot,

where we played

hide and seek,

And day-dreamed

about my dreams

fighting the fights

she could not fight,

Beneath

the iroko tree

where papa,

and big brother Abu

lay stripped,

lost in the forever sleep

of the spirits;

killed by the soldiers of faith.

My beautiful mama,

how she must languish

in anguish,

at the horror

of her sweet Maina,

lost in strange places,

among stranger faces.

 

They attacked my school

in Chibok

They call themselves

soldiers of faith.

Soldiers?

Stealers of my childhood!

I try to be brave

but there are days

I cannot hold back

my tears,

Strangled by the darkness

of Sambisa;

forest of my fears

and nightmares

And when dusk embraces dawn

in a goodnight kiss,

I taste the bile rise up,

at the sight

of my captors approaching…

 

 

Will I be shackled under

gun-barrel locks?

Will I be bartered off

for Nairas & cowrie beads?

Will I be mounted,

paraded on auction blocks?

Will I be lapped at lustfully,

as they place their bids?

Will I be squeezed and sucked

on my budding breasts?

Will I sleep on Sambisa’s

harsh rocks as beds?

Will I be invaded

by their diseased, erect heads?

Will I ever find words

for a horror that bears no name?

Will I ever be free

and heal from this shame?

Will I breathe unpolluted air

of child-like innocence again?

Will I  find a part of me

that’s unscarred by this pain?

 

If you read this,

please take a trip

to my little town

of Chibok,

Take this message

to mama:

Tell her

her little Maina,

is safe, untouched.

Do not mention

that I,

whose age

is a single digit,

was made to marry

and carry…

Say nothing

of my growing

rounded form,

Or that I cannot tell

which of the soldiers of faith

Forcefully fathered

this seed

now nestled

in my womb

Do not ask

her forgiveness

for dark thoughts

that swirl

How I dream

of slipping away

in the forever sleep

of the tomb

Or that I pray ‘day and night

that her grandchild within me

disintegrates with the tide

And flow out

in bloody tears

between my

once innocent thighs

 

Tell her instead,

nations of the world

stood up, fought for me,

Tell her to wait for me

under the shaded Iroko tree

in the village square.

I shall hug her frail form

as she dances and rejoices.

Do tell my mama

that I will make it back home soon

Lie to her;

promise her

I shall see her

tomorrow, at noon.

And till you see me again,

remember to take

good care of my sisters

With every girl

you raise up,

my spirit

is lifted up to the stars…

 

(C) Juliet ‘Kego Ume-Onyido

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