Chenai Boroma, ZIMBABWE

THE BLESSER ERA

A daughter is not a private family asset;

She is born to the village.

Where I come from, my father's mates are my fathers also,

It remains their obligation to teach me life,

To protect me, 

To harness my innocence,

Warn me against early indulgence, 

To guard me jealously against vultures, 

Yet

here I am stuck in tumult. 

It's different here from where I come from,

In this world any man is a source, 

A pathway to expansion, 

To gain, win and procure. 

Whether a father’s age mate -

or even older

they’re potential investors.

It boggles the mind 

how they’ve fancied the crazy scenario...

“blessers," so they say

Can you imagine? 

Scavengers preying on young girls,

The girls in turn prey on their wallets,

Seriously! 

What has this world turned to? 

Our girls walking with waistband long skirts, 

Breasts bulging off their chests, 

Buttocks shaking uncontrollably,

So seductively in front of their fathers,

A man breathes heavily with shoulders in contact with his daughter’s age, 

Skin to skin, 

Nose colliding,

Father and daughter,

Both pounding on each other with pleasure,

without shame, 

The trade is unfair though,

Sex for money, 

Luxury for pleasure, 

But why? 

Are we too blind to see how shameful it is?

An insult to our morals, 

So degrading, so vile,

 It’s indecent and deplorable

How come we can’t see how ignominious it is?

Open your eyes old man, 

Use your brains young lady 

You’re sunk deep in humiliation, 

Calling your father a lover is embarrassing, and chastening. 

When you place your shoulders on the floor, when he sweats in your sight, 

groans with pleasure,

Release his seed in you,

Does it ring not a bell to you? 

I can’t even picture it,

It’s so discomfiting and shaming.

I was taught that, 

The relationship between an egg and a stone changes not, 

Whether the egg falls on the stone or the stone falls on the egg;

The egg suffers most.

That’s indisputable! 

This whole blesser relationship is outrageous!

Dating your father is insane, 

Only fools partake in that.

I CEASE TO BE YOUR POSSESSION

Scrap off my beauty,

Bash out the woman in me,

Extirpate the being in me,

Annihilate the least of my emotions,

Mayhem me completely,

Tell me does that make you feel man enough? 

Come on, 

It’s nothing to be leery about,

Just spit it out already, 

Let’s thrash it out

Man to man. 

I bet you see a him in me now,

Your frenzied behavior says it all, 

It’s painted brightly on your face, 

I agree to being a man, 

Because I now have doubts if I’m still a woman.

Your daily abuses, 

Your pervert being, 

Your fiendish, atrocious

And hellish attitudes towards me

have all groomed me to be a man in my own sense. 

I now can stand it all, 

Without fear, pain or regrets,

Without shedding a tear, 

Without my heart skipping twice, 

Without desperate screams for help, 

Without yelling and pleading for mercy,

With red veins printed all over my body

Blood clots and cracked skin, 

See,

Come on, 

Look at me,

There’s nothing attractive left on me, 

Just a thin, straight, laden being,

No decorated chest,

No curved behind, 

Even the hair, you pulled it out strand by strand

Out of unexplained spleen. 

Tell me, 

Am I not a man now? 

Well ignore that one, 

 That’s not the agenda of today, 

For now, let’s face each other,

Man to man.

I’ve had my own fair share, 

Quiet and scared for a long time, 

Stuck in a corner silenced by pain, 

Like a sheep stuck in the Russian desert during Winter

I’ve always been reserved.

You forced me to settle for less, 

To took away my true self, 

You robbed me of my life and independence, 

But the truth be told, 

These beastly, sadistic and murderous traits end today. 

From now on, 

We lock horns, 

Like beasts, 

Man to man. 

THE STILL BIRTH

With pride I walked into labour

Confident I would walk out again but this time around with you.

In agony I bore you 

With screams I pushed you out of my being

With sweat I brought you to this world

With a heavy heart I watch you go

We shared sleepless nights together,

The highs and lows 

Mood swings and cravings.

The insults became bearable because I knew you had my back

I didn’t mind their malicious chuckles when they came around me 

Neither did I pay attention to their mockery

You were formed in me

In you my heart was rooted already

Guess I counted my eggs way too soon,

I built a nest in the clouds

With a thud I’m falling. 

You were my passport to respect 

The only reason Jack, I mean your father, was sleeping home these days

The reason why Kate wasn’t calling me a witch in fear I would miscarry. 

I was more than willing even to sign a contract with the devil himself just to have you.

For you I slept in sacred and scary shrines

I ate roots and drank bitter salts.

I abandoned my own life in desperation of your own

In you I had given my all- body, soul and spirit

Without you I’m inhumane again. 

So innocent,

So pale, 

So lifeless,

So cold,

Grey veins, 

Not even a blink or a wince of the eye to get a feel of this world

You go back to the Maker. 

Leaving me knocking on Karma’s door. 

I hope to hold you in my arms again 

Even like this or maybe a bit warmer. 

Dear baby, it’s time to go

The world is waiting for me 

They’re about to pounce on my pride again, 

They’re about to Insult my womanhood 

and look at me with that eye 

Jack, I mean your father won’t even sleep home tonight 

Kate, your aunt 

can’t wait to point her shameless finger and call me names

You should have stayed longer to shame them,

It’s okay though at least this time we met,

With a heavy lump stuck on throat threatening to suffocate me it’s sad to say: 

Goodbye! 

A barren hog, that’s what they call me

The joker of the village, 

But I am your mother,

With pride I say that. 

I carried you ...I bore you.

Chenai Boroma from Zimbabwe, 21 years of age, is an avid poet and a short story writer. She is also a social commentator. Alll her writings are based on what she has seen and heard. Her poetry journey began about a year ago. She hopes to soar high as a poet with more and more of her poems getting accepted for publication in different journals, e-zines, anthologies, etc.  She can be reached on social media platform such as Facebook: Chenai Cee chenny and Instagram: Chenai Cee.

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Women, Power & Creativity :: Setu, March 2019