SLAVE-PRICE
I am the new slave of the century
And silence is my voice
My lips have been sealed with selotep of fear
And only my kind see my heavy chains
So why should I raise alarm?
I was present when he handed over those cowries clothed in costumes of a bride-price
And my smiles hindered my eyes from seeing the exchange rates attached to those naira notes
The terms and conditions applied the very first day we smiled against each other
And those hidden charges took the center stage the very night he took me home
So why should why I speak when he molests me?
Why should I scream when he threatens to deport me?
When he makes me his dictionary of curses
I am like a ram taken up to the altar for slaughter
I certainly have no say in the hands of my Master
I was a mere lucky hibiscus he bought from a garden of other beautiful morning roses
And my sweetening shall die once my petals wither
So that ultimately gives him the chance of plucking another
They call my slavery tradition
But they fail to see spiritual implications behind this action
I bear his name same as I bear his offspring
Forsaking my rights, dreams, family and aspirations in the guise of matrimony
And my essence are relegated to the kitchen and rooms I myself have no idea of
And I thought he was supposed to leave home not vice-versa
So little wonder why my efforts are more or less a basket of draining water
