OUR PRIDE

Today is the day she said

As she took a bucket

Out of the bed.

I was confused I couldn’t understand

Then said she, go have a look

If it isn’t beautiful!

Could she be referring to the mourners?

For I could hear a noise.

But what could be so beautiful about mourning?

So went I and saw I

Something that caught my eyes

It could never be the curves

Nor the hips and waists

Neither could it have been the breast

But the beads!

I couldn’t desist from that lovely sight

These beads on their wrist and waists

Was really quite hard to resist.

Could it be because she said it does not rust?

Or because it has something special

My tribe’s men trust?

Nor because it was a special mothers treat?

But no matter!

I wasn’t there for answers but;

To look if it isn’t that beautiful.

With strict eyes I watched

One after the other

Dede pass with pride all over her body

Korkor’s feet trembling with pride

Mammles’s buttocks wobble with her pride

Akwele’s succulent breast bounced and vibrated

Seductively with pride in the midst of beautiful beads.

This is beautiful-I shouted!

Could it be the Stature?

Or the texture-or even the structure?

For mine innocent brain was so excited.

The load alone was one thing

Aside the beautiful colours they displayed.

As I looked I could see erected nipples

Peeping their ways at my direction

As if they wanted to ask me, are you yet ten?

I couldn’t stand it for another minute

So with great enthusiasm I ran

Calling on my Mother’s name

Mother-Mother!-it is indeed beautiful

And I am proud of the colours.