I would wipe mama’s wet eyes.
I would fight for justice,
My kins wouldn’t have grabbed our land.
I wouldn’t have let them humiliate mama,
By making her a theatrical spectacle in the village.
I would have defended her from the violence of our village men.
Who called her a witch, a scapegoat to take our wealth,
Which dad left behind as our inheritance.
Uncle Sam wouldn’t have forced himself on her.
I would have cut his manhood and throw it to the dogs.
Life wouldn’t be this hard.
We wouldn’t be moving house to house borrowing something for our stomachs,
All the while getting those condemning looks from them.
So disgusted at seeing us, like we had leprosy.
Mama wouldn’t have shaved her hair.
She wouldn’t have to wear that piece of cloath throughout.
Her skin wouldn’t have picked the dark pigment so fast.
She wouldn’t walk barefooted.
She wouldn’t have those permanent tear marks.
I would give her a big hug so that she could cry on my shoulders.
I would reassure mama that it’s gonna be okay.
I would sooth her wounds.
I would buy her good clothes.
I would restore her sense of humour.
I would make her feel good about herself.
Don’t worry mama….
One someday am gonna have dad’s arms,
Am gonna make them pay…all of them.