THE NYERI MAN’S STORY.

Feb 10, 2014 Waruguru kiai DIARY OF A NYERI WOMAN, Features 2

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I also write to tell,

To tell of what she writes,

She writes about my life,

Life that she has ruined,

Yes, ruined with her frustrations,

Frustrations that now she rants about.

What does she know? Nothing.

Nothing, about my struggles as a Man from kamakwa,

Kamakwa where my coffee farm once thrived,

And when it thrived, she thrived too, she drank and ate,

Ate from Munyaka hotel, chips and sausage,

But that was then.

Then, when I had my farm, my coffee,

Coffee that educated our children and bought her weave for her head,

Curse those weaves, fake hair.

She now looks like a scarecrow,

So scary I cannot touch her,

How can touch her?

She scares me with her smelly horse hair,

Hair she wears all year long,

But she did not tell you that, did she?

Tell her I will not look at her as a woman,

I will not touch a scarecrow.

I write to tell,

To tell of my life,

My life in kamakwa, with her,

Her who sold our house,

Our house to buy jewels and land,

Land that is not in my name,

It is in her name.

Now we live in a shack,

A shack we call home,

Me and her together.

I write to tell,

To tell, that it was always like this,

The way things are today,

Today, when I cannot look at her,

Her, who brought me on my knees,

On my knees when I married her,

On my knees when she killed me,

Killed me with her nagging,

Nagging about useless competition,

Competition incited by her mother,

Her mother who sold my only cows,

To take her daughter, my wife to school,

Yes, things changed when she went to school,

School made her proud,

Pride made her arrogant,

I am nothing in her eyes,

Trash.

I see, she did not tell you that,

She did not.

I write to tell,

To tell My-in laws to come and take her away,

Away from my sight,

Sight that you cannot behold,

How can you behold me?

Me, sticks and bones is all I am,

I do not eat, she does no feed me,

Me, who owns the soil she ploughs every day,

You should see her,

She looks like a tractor,

Like those tractors you see on Thika road,

We call her ‘momo’,

‘Momo’, fat woman.

And when she walks, aaaaaargh!

And when she snores, aaaaaaargh!

Tell her I have taken refuge,

Refuge in the arms of Njeri,

Njeri, who still smiles and feeds me,

And when Njeri walks, at least you can see the sway of her buttocks,

Buttocks round and supple, not like her’s,

Does she even have buttocks?

Njeri does not have fake hair,

Njeri does not wear those ugly stockings when she sleeps at night,

Not like her.

I write to tell,

To tell that I drink

Yes, I drink,

How can I not drink?

I have no home, no cows, no land,

Ask her, ask her, where she took my house, my cows, my land,

Ask her.

And now she runs to my father,

Ranting that I have grown cold,

That coldness has spread between my thighs,

What nonsense!

I am not cold, am alive,

Very much alive,

Ask Njeri,

Njeri who has experienced the wrath of my warmth.

Tell her, to tell my father the truth,

The truth about the rash,

Rash that she gave me,

Yes, tell her I know,

I know that Maina,

Maina the charcoal dealer,

Deals with her too,

Tell her, I saw them together,

Together sweating profusely, threatening to start a fire,

I know.

I write to tell,

To tell you, I have had it,

I have had it too!

The nagging, the exploitation, everything…

I am a man too,

I have my people too,

I have my dreams too,

I feel too.

I fight you, because you fight me,

You do not listen,

You do not respect me,

Me, the father of your children, I hope.

Fate has held me hostage too,

Do you think I love my life?

Do you think I love poverty, poverty that you caused?

My future is bleak too,

Blink not because of the bottle, No.

Because of you.

Your pride, your arrogance, your fake hair, you giant!

I write to tell,

Go ahead woman, go ahead,

Boil your water, and simmer your porridge,

Sharpen your machete,

Go ahead.

I will be damned if my name is not Kamau,

Kamau wa Njoroge

‘mbari ya hiti’

I will be damned.

Kamakwa, the village where I live,

Will not be enough for the both of us,

When the dust is settled,

Come baby come.

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