Sunday, May 22, 2011

Itsdelta's Trapped In Defiance; Fleeing From Conformity

This is from Delta, the author of this blog I started following. I read this post from her that confirms observations I have made about the feminism movement and like her, my past rejection about the label. Being a feminist is not a bad word.
Delta echoes my sentiments on feminism. Please take time and read her post.

Extracts from the post :
"By wearing the label of feminist, it appears ours is a task of fleeing from conformity but in our flight we are incarcerated by our defiance."

"Where then is this freedom we are clamoring for? While we refuse to be defined in terms of blackness, we automatically find that our deviation is itself a cage in which we have to ‘conform’ to certain concepts."

"I have found out that my brand of feminism does not preoccupy itself with fighting men, man-made institutions, customs, rituals and traditions."

The link to the post :

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Toasting To Memories

Some phased together memories that may never fade
Now I immortalize in words.

Semanseman (Officials from the School of Hygiene) went away.
Our house was never fined; you had ingenious ways for hiding things,
But no matter where, I found them.

The day I wanted my nails cut;
Busy in the middle of something, 'later' you told me.
It was inspection at school the next day, I tell you.
Armed with a pesewa, I purchased a brand new razor blade,
The rest became an ever-present remainder of my pigheadedness for the next twenty-three years'
Oh, my big toe came off to reveal a new layer,
And my little toe finally got some nail on it.

Remember the time I walked in on you and Dad,
I wanted a bath because I had slept earlier that day without taking one.
By the way, I now know what you were about.

I had jerry curls in créche

I hope that wasn't money you gave to my teacher at kindergarten,
I never use the school's toilet anyway
'Why do I have to bring toilet paper?'
I rightly told her.

Mrs Addico was really mean.
I had to cut off all my lovely natural hair before going to class 3.
I love that Big Sis hot combed my hair into afro, my last day in class 2.

Then you became my barber.
I took the coolest hair cuts to school.

My menarche
You boiled an egg
I swallowed it whole
Tradition, I was told.
A symbol of celebration and a naive belief of replacement.

What can I say mum?
You are there when most needed
And then some.

The first,
Love, breakup, and everything in between.

I am waiting, Mamaa
For the day you come back
Come home to where the river is not locked up
And people do not dry themselves up like cocoa beans
When the sun is out.


Forty Days And Nights- Day 3

You are just begging to be stolen, ain't you?
Everything you do point to the fact.
Nod; say yes.
You wish will come true.
I will oblige.