Here Is A Gertrude Sneeze Number Two Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

Finally she has stepped on the
Tail of a puff adder, and it spat
Into the air and all my uncles are
Sniffing and rubbing their eyes,
As she wiggles her waist and goes
Back to her grass hut like the snake
In the garden of Eden.

My uncles are sitting there looking
At each other daggers for they can
See the fools they are I hope. For
They fought like tigers in the wild
And even messed up the stones on Isaac's
Grave for he had to be buried on the
Family property and guess at whose orders?
None other than the one and only Aunt Gee
Worse!

She really got them this time for she insisted
That two portions of the farm be hers and they
Divide the smaller bit between themselves.

As keeper of the law and Madam of disorder
She called the whole family and told us we
Will pay for Isaac will rise from the desecrated
Grave and cause us to walk on our heads for this
Is what has happened to our brains. She said we
All like imbeciles have lost our heads and fallen
Short of the glory of God. And that a curse will
Run through the family if she does not do the libation.

I wondered how my aunt would begin to do a libation
And got the answer as she told us that her spirit is
The wisest for she was born first, and taking a bottle
Of vodka from her handbag she went to the center and
Asked that the ancestors should greet with joy,
My grandfather and let those who fight until they
Shift stones on the graves of the dead, see all wrath
Come to them, for their kind is a disgrace to the
House of William, my great grandfather.

When she said that, she has was pouring drops of vodka
Intermittently on the floor while making sure that the sinning
Eleven were listening. She took the final swig and
Passed on the bottle to my father, who followed suite
Until they had all shared the remains of what she had left.

Now that we have poured the libation, you have
To propitiate the ancestors and slaughter the
Goat of the departed whose grave you messed up.
Like prisoners my uncles went to the goat pen
And did the rituals whose details are gory.

The household of Isaac felt the relief
When she walked away for the keeper of
The law had finally walked away with her
Grey wig like that of the judge of the
Highest court. I am glad she does not have
A gavel for I always feel she would pound
It on people's heads.

I fear the power my aunt has over her
Brothers for she gets it through pitting
Them against one another. She knocks their
heads together, puppets on a puppet string.

When they change she will be a sad
Lonely woman since she has no children
Of her own. The ones she is bullying she
Neither gave birth to nor suckled on her
Breasts, for she would feel the misery she
causes with her hen- pecking.