Poem | |
Limerick: Once a Woman-Cleanser in Malawi
for Seodi White
Once (a) Widow-Cleanser* in Malawi
Insisted (on) being paid double fee
The dead man made certain
Left gift (on) this side (of) curtain
Now Cleanser on (the) dole with H.I.V.
• The “Widow-Cleanser” is a Malawian professional
“intermediate husband” of widows imposed on women
who cannot – under the laws of Malawi - own anything
legally, EVEN their bodies. The Woman-Cleanser sleeps
with widows for a fee ($50/-) in order to prevent widows
and future husbands – from being polluted by the dead
This limerick dramatises facts divulged in a CNN interview with
valorous women-rights lawyer: Seodi WHITE on March 17, 2013.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Poem | |
Miles that I have gone,
The things that I have known,
Some things that their beauty can be seen even in the
Mostly on earth plants that have been sawn.
Flowers and their beauty,
To brighten is their duty,
Their leaves smoothly,
Some of them even fruity.
Always I had seen roses in white or red,
Amazingly they are made,
Am always an admirer as they grow till they fade,
On rank they are on the highest grade.
Traveling around the World is my ace,
To the warm heart of Africa I caried my case,
With me I traveled with Gods grace,
To the golden sands of Malawi what a beautiful place.
But on this journey I had a pose,
For a second my mind froze,
As I came close,
I realized I had seen a black rose.
Her hair so thick and black,
Its the black beauty that can be seen even in the dark,
She sparkled I knew it was good luck,
I wanted to go on but something held me back.
I know why,
My luck is what I had to try,
Her eyes are so bright like a firefly,
She is so thrillingly amazing like a butterfly.
The beauty of a Malawian flower,
Love has found me at the unexpected hour,
With her beauty power,
Love on her I will shower.
Poem | |
Half your time spent
stuffing bags in the ceiling
but the face of corruption
is surprisingly appealing
I remember asking;
Who has the keys to this
The one the finances the
cashier and his fat date
the one that keeps the
orphan clinging to his
for him days are a blur, he
can’t remember when he
so who really has the
keys, the keys to this
you think you know who,
are you sure?
This same one that
separates the rich and the
I saw a crowd the other
They were stuffed in a
Ecstatic and jolly
I heard them scream
and I thought slowly;
who had they seen
Madonna perhaps or
Come to rescue another
orphan, they deem is
Then I thought again,
Why do they refer to her
Why didn’t they refer to
the late one as Abambo.
mindsets are doing
nothing but falling
and Frankly its appalling.