is the girl who was denied the fire! Yes. The girl who was denied the
arts. But that woman stole it!” screamed the attention seeking lady
clad in indigo.
“What? How can one be human without the two?”
‘woman’ was Mary Jane. She was receiving one of the most revered
crowns on earth. The whole stadium directed millions of eyes to her.
She gave a white-tooth smile to everyone. They all went red.
ago, before Obama’s grandfather came out of Bush, Africa depended on
blacksmiths. The apprenticeship went on well until December 1980 when
Mary Jane peeped into this world. They did not send her to the field;
they took her to the house-girl bureau. A passport to acquire fees for
the denial was more glorious than the iron ground. Luck did crack every
brick in her sack. The house she mouse-guarded belonged to a female
activist who saw her into reading, writing and arithmetic. Women
warring up warped women. Mary Jane is now a Master’s graduate! Of
course, her father then wanted her back.
you ever seen a woman who fought her brothers, shut down her father,
resurrected her mother, accused her submissive sister, and blamed the
masculine gods? There she is! Bright for a blue occasion. Media house
blinking rare burning cameras. She never fought ugly people who have
nothing to lose; she made a mark.
courage even in sleep, her ambition even in eating, her honesty even in
lovemaking, her intellect even in the traditional choir, her morality
even in comedy and her opposition even to some church doctrines saw her
into student president-ship. The very first in history; so far the last.
had a voice that could curse you in such a way that you would look
forward to a pilgrimage trip to hell. Her Heracles strength and beauty
kissed our President into resignation via Facebook.
she stood in a blushing but dangerous red cotton dress. A white-red
striped headgear, white African earrings matched with an
over-domineering belt and self-composed shoes, black stockings and
sore-yellow lipsticks. Her majesty swayed her natural hair artificially
and everyone swallowed the heat. Yes, she has an empire. She was Miss
University before becoming Miss Commonwealth.
is when the examiner started awarding marks. Her community service
struck the poor. Her soft, swift, feet fleeted millions of poor
bellies. Nobody asks for poverty appointment; it is right on the
doorbell waiting for a cough. Poverty with jiggers. Poverty with
refugees. Poverty with slum-dwellers. Poverty in courts. Poverty in
drugs. HIV Poverty. Poverty in maternity wards. Poverty in ‘weaker’
gender. Poverty in schooling. Poverty in war and poverty in riches! She
won the war without winning the war! Look here. She did a minor mania
in a great way, touched a warrior, triggered the bombs, and slowly
burned the enemy Poverty. It is still burning en-route to 2030!
If you miss her name on TV, look around, her face might be the lasting screen saver of your computer. She is just a woman. Ha?
Watch what is happening? She is making a thanksgiving speech. Her
English! The media, ready for controversy, rolls and ‘action!’
much noise but all that was recorded is that she gave all the cash
accompanying the award to charity! Charity! Charity, whoever she was,
must be very lucky!
“Give a woman food; feed the society. Unless she becomes her own enemy.” It was the Indigo-clothed lady speaking loudly again.
Muhande is a Kenyan writer. He has written six plays, a novel, short
stories and countless poems yet to be published. A graduate of
Language, linguistics and Linguistics from Egerton University, Kenya,
Muruli currently teaches part-time at a high school.