Tell Your Story Lowveld Girl Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

I heard sounds in the valley,
Sounds of whips cracking on beasts,
The pushing and plowing nearby,
Living lines of dirt turned up,
And seeds looking at the sun and rain.

The farmer, that worked hardest,
Ripped what he sawed I saw,
And thought like me when I plow,
I would reap as much as he.

Then I went to the place of work,
Worked harder than the hardest I saw,
Cracking whips on my back endlessly,
Telling me to work harder than ever.

This I did thinking I had to please,
In order to get a ticket of peace,
That would lay food on the table like them,
Only to find the bread was smaller on mine,
Than the half a loaf I had bought at the store.

I asked the seller why my bread was small,
He looked at me as if I was crazy,
He put my bread on the same scale,
When it tipped he said to me,
Your breast and torso make it tip against,
Everything you put on it.

This I thought was the lowveld in me,
Telling me the girl of the city got better,
I walked to town so sure I was it,
The thing to get the corner office there,
Only to find a desk at the entrance,
For all I was, the receptionist also was.

Then I climbed the ladders of learning,
I chose a gum tree for it is tallest,
Green and smelly eucalyptus oil and all,
Only to be told I was not of the myrtle family.

Then I went back to the lowveld whence I came,
Ready to rub sand into my hair like all,
The girls I saw who had sand in their hair,
And shake it off to leave some small shiny curls.

This was what I needed to do with me,
For I had never learned the ways of the wise,
That a widow shared with me in all black,
That it is life to be a woman after the life,
That a girl has lived walking this earth.