Waruguru Wa Kiai

Lessons from my Bamba TV #chei #oga

I too want to cry under a tree
with my hands on my head
I want to call my mother and sing in strange tongues
and let free a trail of mucus to run on my poverty cracked lips.

I want to walk barefoot along the road
listening to the patter of my bra free breasts
poking hard against my worn out blouse.
I want to trail on the red earth in a hurry to no where
my buttocks threatening to break free from my ill fitting Sunday best ‘thuruari’

with my ‘Arimis’ smeared face
and a once soft – once black – once sweet smelling – once free flowing weave
I hope to walk on every road
crying and falling like my grandmother’s banana stem
until a handsome young man – Ramsey Noah -John Dumelo -Jim Iyke -parks his vehicle next to me
and rushes to my aid with a chest full of six pack and pink lips ready to kiss me back to life!

I want to walk on some road like a long lost virgin
far away from home, in search of her first love
who left for the city in search of better
after promising to return with white man’s money
and a full grown penis eager to wet her thighs with perennial pregnancy!

I want to swing my hips on the Nyeri – Nairobi Highway
like prey waiting to be hunted – pounced on- and devoured like a good prey should!
I hope to cause a massive snarl up
as hot blooded creatures stop to bite their nails amidst praises.
ha! it will not be long before John Njagi composes an album in praise
of my black skin, It will not be long.

Do not be mistaken
I refuse to fall prey to the rickety sounds of a dying probox and below machine
neither will I be moved by the antics of a man
sitting on the passengers side trying to holla at me…sing along honey!

I want me a prince dressed in royal robes
flunked by seven maids who pelt rose petals whenever I cough.
I want me a prince with a wise father who adores me
and a dying mother who will never see me.
I want me a prince who will teach me the ways of spoons and forks
hopefully I will forget my village ways – tumbukiza and wet fry at Tumus!

Before you call me mad
I put it to you that my dreams will live
just like all those dreams harbored by poor Nigerian girls
always crying on some road in all those Nigerian Movies aired on my Bamba TV
I too will cry myself to marriage, riches and beyond
ala! you wait.

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