MY SISTER'S NECK

-

By Sr. Esther Jeruto Koros OSF 

I can swear I always thought my nape resembled my sister’s.

It was the way the teacher rubbed grime off her dark neck.

To prove a point. Her nape was so dark, darker than shiny tar.

The darkness too was proof of dirt. Rubbed until it bled.

If she showered enough, her nape would be fairer, said he.

My sister showered and scrapped and soaked her nape, until it seemed scarped.  

Until it got calloused and pimpled and jaggy.

I started to hide my neck deep inside the collars folds.

Until it was thought a disability. The tortoise, I was named.

A new symptom too emerged with the withdrawal, nuchal rigidity.

My sister now has children, brilliant, beaming and golden dark.

Their napes pure and uncropped, I itch to touch.

Now grown, I realize how black and dark are no measure of dirt.

But I am so sad, the teacher died in ignorance, may be heaven will teach him.

© December 2020

 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

CALL POLICE!

-
Image
There is a child, trapped in every person, struggling to break free! Dreaming dreams, craving balloons, challenging norms, ghee! But you are too tall for hide and seek, high breasted too to hopscotch, Too fat to climb trees, imprisoned in adult cocoons. But may be the vistas are not all shut after all, Let the ancient wounds, oozing pus heal. For when I speak for the African child, I speak for the little one within you too.     The kite is high, stretching out the panorama To a sea of digital space, information upon information. Choking us with its opulence.   A blessing? A Curse? A mix of both? Well, the internet blesses us if we use it right.   Looming are the digital demons, beware! Cyber bullying, identity theft, addiction, child pornography, Soliciting the minor, sexual abuse, many are the dangers Yet, does abuse bridle the use? Such a ruse!     The African child must enjoy, the digital space just as much. She must proper into adulthood,
Read more

BESTIE LET ME TELL YOU!

-
Image
Dear Bestie, My memory belches unpleasant evocations strenuously entered into its reserves. I recall for instance, the snake bite of my aunt, how frightful it must have been for her. I recall my mother’s painful strokes, an astute testifier of using canes on kids, aha! I recall my athletic cousin who duped us into emptying our pockets, only to vanish in the prodigal son’s manner. I recall my step mother, locking up the corn stores so that we starved in my Dad’s absence. I recall my aunt’s disappearance after facing the sharp knife that would end her education. I recall the violence that erupted after one election period scattering us like frightened chicken. I recall these things;  I recall them with a remote lingering haziness that would rather be left alone. I recall these and more, I recall the decisions that emanated from these moments. These experiences were bearable, these memories, melancholic as they sound, are bearable.  But Bestie, let me tell you: Thi
Read more

BESTIE, IF THERE WAS A FATHER

-
Image
Dear bestie Two decades are gone since we went into this teaching-ache. I don’t know about you but, I have seen it all, my head aches. I have watched them gain and lose, their height, weight, teeth. I have seen them fall in and out of love, such doves getting hit. I have amusedly watched the shock on their faces when hit by changes. These changes are cruelly fast, some are painfully slow, tight hinges… These I have witnessed, laughed and cried, worried and tired. Not all wonderful though, the girls without Fathers…. They search for what they know not, all unfettered sisters, They chase the sky, if just for a sigh, a man might be tender. They read books and trust the scheme, the novelty to be slender. They hope and dream and watch the movies, Hollywood trash! They believe in magic, something mustn’t be so harsh, so hush! The girls without Fathers, have denied and embraced ghosts. They have made men out of women, and women out of men. I can almost tell from
Read more