“A halt to all your boast”, replied
A woman at the edge of the crowd
“Because the mantis knows how
To put its hands together, it thinks
The whole world moves to its inaudible prayer
The hoe bears no masculine name
The machete is no exclusive tool
Of the hairy-chested breed
We have countless women here who tend the farm
With the same vital care they handle the cradle
Mama Chilambe, show these men
The marks hoe-handles have left on your palm”
A feast loomed delicious behind the moon
“You wax so eloquent about the cradle;
But who planted the seed before the bloom
Who stays on top in the act of the sowing?”
“Of course, you men are always on top
And that is why your weight suppresses the world
But tell us, sowers of wonderful seeds,
Have you ever seen a seed that grows
Without the sweating soil”
“The bane of the world is its unruly women
Women at war with Nature
Women with no sense of their appointed place
They……..”
“Whose nay-ture, who appointed the place?
We too long for a time – and hope it’s coming soon
When we can flop on the sofa, newspaper in hand,
Legs on the coffee table, ordering sweaty wives
In the kitchen to hasten to ensure a punctual dinner
We too long for a time when we can whisk
Pregnant husbands to crowded clinics
And build up a harem of pretty men….
A feast loomed delicious behind the moon
(To be continued)
