I'm a victim of female genital mutilation
My father was an illiterate
My mother a child-bride
He preached the gospel according to culture
She was the subordinate wife
On the day of my birth,
she sadly watched,
mute like a stone
as my treasure was torn from me.
I only knew of this gruesomeness
when I failed to thrive in the ways of love
Stories from friends spoke of multiple extremes
Something strange to me.
My lover called me a log;
a name whispered for a joke.
In a fight to save my relationship,
I was told to return to my mother.
The confrontation was heart wrecking
for all she had done for me was love
but the truth had to be told
and the truth almost killed me.
Something given by God himself was stolen from me.
I was not given time to find a path for myself
I was silenced like an animal in the abattoir.
My deed was signed when I was just a babe
I don't remember the pain
But I won't call this luck!
My tribe mates who are facing the knife
with a grown mind
their cries are deafening,
their pains excruciating,
some have died from it.
But why are we letting such brutality live on?
Why are we bowing down to culture?
To keep us faithful?
Culture is just selfish!
I will never experience the extremities of intimacy
but that is a by-gone for me
but not for the next generation!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem