05 Oct Fair price: The girl bride
when your mother wakes you on the morning of your death
whispering prayers of a fruitful union,
Pray with her
that your first blood may block the ears of her god.
When the ululating women,
with lines of suffering and submission on their faces dress you like fine salad
with silk and colours
Laying fine linen over your pubescent breasts
and aesthetic lines on your hands,
Show them your flat chest and your narrow hips;
a lily can only bloom under the sun.
Tell the sister who embraces you that a flower withers when it is pulled from the ground.
wipe her eyes and whisper in her ears:
Your father will come to take you to the man who has paid his price
Abraham took his own son.
”Baba, see my mates on the south road that leads to my school”
”How little did you take for me?”
”Baba, will he love me better than you?”
And when you look into the eyes of your suitor
harden your face and tell him, little one,
that you are not an item to be bought and sold.
You are not his to be branded as a fifth
and he will not put his seed in you.
You must swear not to bear his daughters;
you will kill his sons.
You will defy him with madness and you will spit in his eyes.
You are not an item to be bought or sold.