MY DAUGHTER’S CARROT.

Written by: Alayande Stephen

I am sorry,
I am very sorry,
This is for my daughter
I mean my young, beautiful pet.

That was it, the voice of my friend
Who now prides himself
Of another daughter across the street
Only God knows how many of such
I mean those susceptible to his carrot.

Indeed, very young
Full of life to live
Looking innocently attractive
Until he crept into her life.

Her Aunt’s door left ajar
She fell like a pack of card.
He dazzles her Aunt with intermittent gifts
He branded the girl “My daughter”
My innocent friend became a father
And dangles before his daughter a lanky carrot.

As times tickles away,
The daughter not only eats the golden carrot
But she swallows it gently with exactitude

Yet, her Aunt saw no changes
When carrots thickens her sister’s hips
And her flat buttocks getting curved roundly
While her chest pointer getting shaped
Her Aunt still blinded with gifts of “Suya and bread”.

Here comes this day knocking
As my friend’s daughter
Vomits and coughs repeatedly,
She feigned to be well before her Aunt.

“Nothing, I’m okay”
She smiled to her friends
And pretends to all
But grim only at her father

The act got caught short
Not for too long,
Now we all know,
That she has swallowed her father’s carrot
And it got stucked in her throat.

When?, Where?, Who?, her Aunt queried
Three months ago, she retorted
My . . . My . . . My . . . father, she replied.
Before eyes got blinked,
My friend’s was out of town
In search of another daughter.



Alayande Stephen T.
11.05am
4th August, 2007

Spiced up for my good friend Tope and his daughter.
It all happened on my visit to Abuja.

Suya- An Hausa language (from Nigeria) for roasted meat.