MY STORY

By Patricia Kombo Mumbua

 

I don’t know how to start,

Because this is not an act

But unforgivable fact

NO!NO!NO! This is not me

I can’t really accept myself

Because am not me

My dignity is ruined’

Shattered and bruised, no love in me

But hatred as I remember;

The incidence, the two cannibals

The two man eaters

Who tore me into pieces?

They took what I treasure,

With great measure,

And with great pressure,

Leaving laughing with pleasure,

As though it was their leisure

Ouch! Stop this,

Yell from the bush,

And with an ambush,

I admitted,

Leaving me in the pool of blood

Leaving me pale just waiting for a rescue

This is not an imagination,

And not a magnification,

But an intimidation,

And a sexual molestation.

I was left ripe .with much guilt

For that was not my wish to lose it

At attender age of 12 years

That’s not the first time

But the sixth time

It’s part of an addiction to me

At first it was my father.

This brutal father I treasured to be a God given dad

Second time was my close cousin

Third was my desk-mate

Fourth was my uncle, fifth a matatu conductor

Sixth are these cannibals

Why always me and not the rest?

Why always me the girl child?

After hospitalization, I was found anemic

After losing a lot of blood

On my second test am diseased

With two risky diseases

HIV/AIDS and gonorrhea

Why always me the girl child

Am just waiting for a celebration,

My burial ceremony

Am looking at the coffin

Watching the soil running deep

Flowers growing bright

Because all will be used on that day

Don’t cry or sympathize

You should cry for your children

And for the next generation

For me, fate has assured me of only 12 years

Oh! Fire! Fire! burning in my spirit

Deep in my soul

Let me chant a prayer

So that I may go to heaven

With great earnestness

Let me say my farewell wishes

Please this generation

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