Mothers' Pride Poem by Katusiime Jeresi

My mother is proud.

I scrub her pans
I tend her flowers
I sit and listen
to her stern warnings
concerning the spreading of my legs
My mother is proud

You can read it in her smile
as she presents me to church folk
'Nina is finishing her bachelors...'
she whispers loudly
to Ma Namu whose daughter
is boiling Haj Hassan's potatoes.
I bundle my shawl
in front of my bloating stomach
my loose kitenge curtaining me
I have three more months
before my mothers' pride is diluted
into a tasteless brew of shame
Will my mother be proud
if she learns
I have scrubbed her pans
alongside Musa's,
I have tended her flower bed
as I pruned Musa's,
I didn't only listen to her
stern warnings concerning the spreading
of my legs,
Musa taught me how
they must be spread?


Hopefully
Mother will be proud