Song of My Folks

When you are ripe enough, sonMy father said;
Find a woman for yourself
You can buy her with what you earn
or just elope with one--
If her folks threaten to deny themselves pleasure of being our in-laws!
Nobody in our line ever died a bachelor
Neither are our tongues peppery
for the liking of women!

It's only Wabomba-- your mother's grand-uncle
who reached diable age
with sperms fermenting!
Fast a woman was found
and, literally, he was thrust into her
before going to his ancestors.
We don't immortalize him in our children
for his is a name nothing is expected
(though he was a legendary rat killer!)

Forego all there is to find her;
A wife out-values a piece of land
And he who finds one, the Good Book opines, has found a good thing;
He can dine and wine with men.

But, son, marry not in the neighbourhood
You may marry your sister
Export our genes across the ocean, or deep in the heart of the Great Rift Valley
Children born of such worlds are notorious geniuses
A man who journeys afar for a wife
is much honoured
than a fool who impregnates a twilight girl in the street
and baptizes her his wife.
He opens his people to worlds outside
and brings more friends.

Beware, son
of the nudging scent of passing roses.
Waste not yourself injecting water into them
We can't afford to have our flesh and blood raised
on a soil unknown
For seeds sown along the path see not maturity.
Get not a woman, but a wife--
She who'll come running when you call
She who'll respect us all, with our ways archaic.
She whom, together, you can go on a journey in daylight
without fear of harassment by the KWS
Serve her well, not to cry of hunger--
It's snatching men wives!
A man who lazes around fattening like a pig
Do nothing for his people.

Sire children to fill the earth empty!
A man is survived by children
Not the wealth he has robbed men--
It's fast consumed by kins, once he's fed to the soil!
It's through children that one's name for eternity lives
Even after fate has wiped him off Earth.

Marry; mother sings
Not a woman whose age rivals mine
Which lies hidden in her knees-- hard like a cow’s hoof!
She hides behind paints of irritating powders and perfumes
and squeezes herself into micro-garments
to evade aging
(and forever remain young!)

Digging in thighs of such a woman
Son, is worse enough to earn you a curse
Her well is a reservoir of acids toxic
That will eat your manhood away
Oh, you'll never sire!

Fall not for an Elephant;
A fool who hunts one and carries it home may collapse under its weight!
Bring us a girl with angelic allure
and a fine brain, wired to disambiguate life's ambiguities...

A woman with skinniest legs
is not good for a wife
She won't bent, hold a hoe and dig;
She won't carry water from the well
She will forever sit, glued to TV
or duracoating her lips and nails
As hunger eats you with relish!
But isn’t a home praised because of a woman?
Sleeping hungry is bad, really bad.

Do not marry a woman
with a chest as flat as wood
or breasts as tiny as pimples--
She will starve your children to death!
Get a tree that can bear fruits
and keep you in good health
not a flower to attract evil eyes
for, in times of hunger, a man
can’t eat the buttocks of a woman bootyful!
© wafula p’khisa