Patrick Ambani  Photography 5

#1 Drum Beats and Moraa; It was like Romeo and Juliet

Drum Beats Started It…
Tell me Moraa,
On how many beds have you laid?
In how many men’s room have you spent a night
Tell me Moraa,
What dues are these you deserve to be paid
That can not wait until daylight?

Tell me daughter of Omariba
How many times have you succumbed to the pleas of men
I hear you say the it doesn’t get finished up like soap
Tell me daughter of Omariba
How many times do you feed your breasts to men
I hear its a cycle like a tied rope

Tell me daughter of Kisii land
How many campus beds have endured your weight
How many walls have capped their ears from your moans
Tell me daughter of Kisii land
How many more men have to lay on you their weight
Before you settle your mind on the right corn

Moraa daughter of Kisii land
Is that why your father took you to school?
Is that why he had to sell the red fat cow?
Moraa daughter of Kisii land
By trying to stay cool with men you’re being a fool
Moraa I bet you should change your ways now!

Moraa Replied…

Did you not howl like a dog with bone
as you raced on top of me
for hours?
always clung on the hem of my skirt
were you not the one
who begged me to allow your swollen meat safe landing
on my now pale thighs
tired of your ambitious drilling,
Drum beats were you not the one?

I see, my name has not left your lips
I still remember how you hissed my name behind the church tank
as your hands traversed all my valleys
were you not the one
who sent my breasts south
after years of religious chewing?
and now you rubbish me,
I, Moraa daughter of Kisii,ah!

Drum beats
speak the truth and shame the devil!
were you not the one who way layed me
with a bag of chips and sausage
promising somali jeans and marriage?
Tell them now
of the red dots sipped by your mattress
is that not where my virginity is buried?
did I not call my mother’s name
when you plunged inside me without any warning?
now you accuse me of parting my legs for many men to feast as they please,
were you not the one who insisted on wearing different attire every night?
tell them how you would appear dressed in a TNA shirt claiming to be Ohuru
Now, you are quiet
I see.

Drum beats
my love, come back home
if only that I may hold you
one more time
I am no longer angry at you for typing insults against me for the world to see,
I no longer sizzle like roast meat at the thought of your lies
come baby,

Then He Said…

Moraa, you say I hauled over you like a dog
Well, am glad you noticed the effort I made,
How else would a man satisfy you?
Tell me Moraa,
What’s the difference with falling into a borehole
Wasn’t I among the unlucky ones?
For he who took your virginity was the luckiest.

So you decided to take arms against me
Tell me daughter of Omariba
Where will you find a man who never feels it
When his girl is laid by all his friends?
I am human Moraa, and I know the definition of ‘hurt’

He did not end there …

Since Moraa started working at an M-Pesa shop,
She gained a level of pride
She doesn’t even talk to me
She thinks I will ashame her

Moraa wears miniskirts and wedge heels
Her walking style has also changed
She walks with her battocks raised
You can see her struggling for balance

Moraa has a big touchscreen phone
She doesn’t call or text anymore
She says she can only Whatsapp
She never removes those white earphones

I hear Moraa is going to Nairobi,
Her sugar daddy, the owner of the M-Pesa shop,
The one who bought her the big phone, wedge heels and miniskirt
The one she visits when his wife is not around
I hear that potbelly man will take her
Moraa will know Nairobi, Nairobi will teach her!

And you know Moraa had to lay down her own…

I have waited for the sun to travel back home, for what I have to say
Can only be witnessed by the black night,homeless dogs
and drunk men swimming in their own puddles of urine.

Drum Beats, I hear you walk around with your legs part
For all to see the drill that dug a borehole between my thighs,
I am told that all the children in the village have finished counting all the hair on chest
For you walk around bare, to show all who care to see,
the nail marks that decorate your wrinkled form
Explaining how I pounced on you like a hungry tiger.
Is it true that despite the warning from the elders you still tie my red bra around your neck
while singing songs in praise of my hips
Hips you claim to have conquered,is it true?

I lied, you good for nothing fool!
I felt no earthquake on that unfortunate day
When you plastered my lips with your sticky saliva
There was no thunder when you started singing ‘Gor Gor mahia’ as you pumped on top of me,
Did you hear me scream the night away?
did you see me eat my nails like sugarcane?
Did you hear me mock the other women by hissing ‘drum beats you have finished me’
I felt nothing except your drum of a stomach
and the fleas you gifted me,
Did you know I had to baptise myself in kerosene for three days,
Crucify my naked skin on hot iron sheet to be rid of your fleas,
What man forces an innocent cat to scratch his chest so that he can brag in the village,
Were you not banned from hovering around the church
After you were caught red handed hoisting down the chief’s daughter underwear?
and now you accuse me of entertaining several ‘heads of state’ in my bushy kingdom,
Ah!Drum beats, you will be my death.

Mr. Drums
Have you forgotten how I chased after you, as you left for the city
Have you forgotten about my desperate cry to have you stay,
did I not threaten to run naked around the village if you left
did I not crawl and promise to be a good girl
Never to sit badly – day or night?
Talk to me!
You shoved me aside and bounced off to the brick city,
Even after I had vowed to live with your brief ‘Gor Gor mahia’ moments on top of me
You left me.

For months,I stalked the bus stop
Hoping that you had changed your mind,I waited…
I had plans of hanging myself on the mango tree where you taught me how to stuff my tongue in your mouth,but
‘Karis’ begged me not to.
Oh! He sings about my pencil sharp buttocks everyday,
He makes me smile during the day
and wail at night, and no, He has no fleas!

It is true, all you have heard
I now wear high heels that plough the land when I walk
I have expensive china nests resting on my head
my lips are always blood red
And my breasts have recovered from your religious chewing, they now look like two ripe mangoes from Muranga that will fetch a good price at the market, so you see
Me and you – sahau, forget!
Mr. Beats, beat it!

That was how the cookie crumbled!


*You can find Drum Beats on Facebook. You will find me here and there – Everywhere!



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