No spam from us, pinky swear.

    Join 78,883 other subscribers.

    The fat graduand. The laughing ugly girl.
    But you would have laughed it off.
    And your father wouldn’t have stormed into college,
    with plain clothes policemen.

    No arresting a teacher for having struck you.
    No epileptic attacks, Maggie.
    No collapsing at your own graduation
    fourteen years later.
    We watch you walk to be given the power to read.
    You’re not a baby now, Maggie.
    You’re not a fat spoilt baby at all.
    You’re not ugly anymore, Maggie.
    You don’t twist your mouth when you speak.

    We’re not envious of your having gotten an epilepsy attack
    just when the teacher was about to strike you, Maggie.
    But no epilepsy protects us from the teacher’s cruelty.
    No disease prevents us from going to school, unlike you.
    Not even simple Malaria, Maggie.
    And our fathers won’t come to school with policemen
    because a teacher struck us.

    But you’re dead now.
    We buried you, Maggie.
    And we never took it back;
    the fat, the ugly, the twisted mouth.

    We just wanted your epilepsy.

    We just wanted a father
    who would not beat us because teachers beat us, Maggie.
    We just wanted a disease, a condition, the police, a mother, anything,
    to protect us from the cruelty of the math teacher.

    And you had them.
    Won’t you just understand that, Maggie?

    (c) Sanya Noel [KENYA]

    – Winner of the Babishai Niwe Poetry Award 2016

    cover image source

    Sanya Noel lives in Nairobi. He spends his free time writing poetry, short stories, and essays and studying art. Poetry is his first love.

    0 0 votes
    Article Rating
    Notify of
    Newest Most Voted
    Inline Feedbacks
    View all comments

    keep it up Noel


    Damn! This piece is so deep. Warns against social stigma


    a very perceptive piece I must say…

    Share via
    Copy link
    Powered by Social Snap
    %d bloggers like this: