I ALSO NEED SOME LOVE Edwin Rukungu

I am woman, born of man and woman. First sight of light the midwife slapped my bossom. I cried. The beginning of cycles of my pain.

I am the woman who the other women whispered 'another one is born.' Their faces sad, but all in all the maternity hut was filled with ululations, four to be exact, and the world went quiet Everyone knew a girl was born

I am a woman brought up holding onto my mamas breasts, suckling till they went dry. Never knowing I too would have my wells sucked dry. I am woman who mastered the ways of my ancestors and cheerfully passes it down to my offsprings.

I am woman taught to balance the pot on my head Bear the weight of the traditional necklaces round my neck. Artfull cover my chest and groin leaving my belly open. And gracefully walk in the company of both the elderly and young women, swinging my hips in a seductive way making sure each step to the stream mattered.

I am woman whose voice varies in seasons. When in love I lower my voice, angelically calming the nerves of my lover to be. Sends shivers to his body making him attached to my soul. When angry, I become an untamed lioness, roars like the lion, fights like boar and leaves marks that noone can bear.

I am a woman who the world boos at when I sought to be independent. Whose legacy means nothing, I am only remembered by my acts of love, sacrifice and peace. I am a woman who is casualty of war. Men start war, men die at war, some return to me to reassemble them then go back to fight and I am left to mourn over their lifeless bodies.

I am woman who daily worries of my children. Some love me, others are rebels but I love them all the same

I am a woman who owns no land. Yet they plant their seed in me and gladly I produce.

When I am old, he brings in another version of my young self and mocks me

Showing all his affection to his new lover and yet my love for him never faulters. I love them all the same. I am the same woman who prepares all their dishes and never has a thought of being malicious crossed my mind

I am woman made of love, even when hatred stirs within the fold. Mending the stitches one by one till they are no more Holding together the pieces of an entire generation I am the woman who they return to drunk, beat up and broken. Yet I raise them up again till they are on their feet again

I am the woman who they never talk about because I too gave in to pleasures of this world and had a King make warm my bed. I now have a prince in my belly, a farmer on my back and a soldier beside me