Mama is Gone
A day has come and gone,
Yet there is no sign of mother,
had she gone to the market,
Or willow the sorghum at the grinding stone,
My papa is not here either,
He smokes as his hands wither,
Tears are bound from my eyes to escape,
The smoke from his pipe has no respect.
Yet papa leaves every day,
And returns as the oracle fore say,
He hit mama the previous day,
Perhaps he sent her away,
But life without mama is jail,
I have to pluck vegetables from the farm,
The one mama bought and papa owns,
I rush to the bush to fetch firewood,
Yet the bully boys hide in the grass,
I have to wash utensils and the laundry is basketful,
Mother you got to return to your life.
Mama is a strong woman,
Only she can stand papa,
In his fuzzy drunken stupor,
He can auctions his wife and children,
He sold his land for the bottle,
Lost his bicycle at the butcher,
To cover for two kilograms of meat,
That never reached our kitchen.
I will leave this place,
I will run far- far away,
I will elope with Abraham.
The one who wrestled at the town square,