Her-Story

The women in my
family,
For five
generations
Have lain with men
Who have given
them daughters
and no sons

Because of this,
and
because we have all
somehow
managed
to outlive our men,
They, who know nothing about genetics,
but claim to know it all,
call us ngirani:
The cursed women

They say we walk naked and
survive on a diet of human flesh and blood
like vampires

When
We disagree with their opinions
And raise some of our own
They look at us contemptuously
and spit out
"feminists!"
Making it sound like the dirtiest word on earth

They say that we,
like the witches
in 17th Century Europe,
must be cleansed of evil
and destroyed

But we refuse to be held in chains
we choose to write our own history
we will chart our destiny

So here is to you, Mekatilili wa Mwenza
I pour libation to you, Wangu wa Makeri
I salute you, Mary Muthoni Nyanjiri

©, N.L., 2009