FROM A SLAVE TO HIS MASTER
“I write this letter with a lot of pain, I hope that for once you will hear my cries.”
There isn’t a greater shame,
than a swollen belly that isn’t mine,
Yet back home I came,
to find your husband working on my spine,
The judge listened to my claims,
and he ends up blaming the wine!
My wife’s broken virtue isn’t a game,
how can I pretend to be fine?
I am a man, not a cow,
a king who did not bow,
In my home, they called me Jalo,
the master of bow and arrow,
Out here I lack the know-how,
I’m despised and forced to plow,
All I do is count the days now,
surely ending you is my vow.
Do this do that you said,
my sons worked while yours played,
By whips, we worked,
no matter how hard we cried,
Every second that we lay,
we were in fear of being preyed on,
How I wish you just choked,
on your tongue and died.
Sore skin and broken bones,
every day that you come to greet us,
Our loud cries and sore tones,
ni kama Bundi usiku wa kiza,
After the war, you’ll leave us alone?
Oh, how good you deceived us,
All this blood covering your throne,
still calling yourself a woman of Jesus!
Our bodies reek of blood,
from the stripes of your husband’s whips,
And yes we are sleepy and tired,
as you would be without enough sleep,
All day we are covered in mud,
and all night we fish in the deep,
We return to find another child has died,
nothing left for us to do but weep.
Even though I act frightened,
I do not cower to your threats,
The church you force me to attend,
only teaches me to forgive and forget,
But one of these days I will descend,
right on your throat ending your breath,
For now, I will remain silent,
so, my children, I can protect.
In agony and strain,
Diamond was brought to life,
With every move that makes us sane,
you threaten to end her life,
Slowly you have taken our brains,
and fast you have learned to thrive,
Sooner or later we will rise again,
your breath will end quickly with a knife.
“Kumbuka haya Mondala,
with a song from the cabin,
mateso ya fimbonyala, is more than you can imagine,
bila viatu au ndala, a towel or a napkin,
masaa matatu kulala, before the dogs start barking,
treated like a gorilla, what a life it has been,
Black Diamond you are and freedom is your calling.”
