African Queen

There I was again trapped in my own trail of thoughts as mama lit up the flames. The flames to the hot talk we just had yesterday. The trending topic, marriage. She pointed out like decimals and made it known that I needed to hasten my steps in getting her a daughter-in-law and God knows I wasn’t in a hurry. In any case, there’s no hurry in Africa.

I fixed my gaze upon dad with an expression that shouted for help but every time he opened his mouth to speak it ended in a nod, yawn, a sip. A nod, yawn and more sips on his porridge.

So, I made my way to my favorite place where the blazing sun caresses the smooth lining of the river bank and the water flows to the tune of whistling trees. The slow flow of the river rattles the tiny pebbles embedded on the bank and that’s where the fairy tale began.

The sun's delicate light falling on her skin made her glow leaving me in awe. I reckon it was love at first light. I could literally feel Cupid stabbing my heart countless times with his arrows.

She captured my heart when our eyes locked and I could tell that in her mind I was imprisoned for life. You know she’s not a pick up line kind of girl. No. That’s too plain and simple for her taste so I got my act together and engaged her in a good conversation.

As she told me her story, I couldn't help but feel sorry. She's been the apple of many eyes. Many who never had vegy ties, blood thirsty, hungry for her flesh then dumped her when they were done.

She’s had many suitors who used her. She’s heard it all. Sweet words that left her with cavities. Seen it all. Men in angel skin but deep within the Devil’s advocates.

She’s had many who bruised her melanin. Now the once soft skin is marked with scars she could easily be used as a case study for landmarks.

By the bruise on her face I could tell that Willis didn’t go easy on her and she must have chosen to die hard on her feet than on her knees.

In their scramble for her attention they scattered her immensely diverse daughters now it's all tension and twisted truths from reporters. Each tear that rolled down her cheek was black gold for them so they filled her hands with guns in exchange for bloodshed as they robbed the soil, hindering her progress.

But there's something about her that just made me tick. Talk of a brave heart and strong will.

She said,
"An eye for an eye leaves everyone blind. It’s my ride and I’m leaving all the negative energy behind. It’s my time to fly, to spread these little wings of mine and I don’t mind. I’ll fall many times but on my feet I’ll rise. I’ll crawl many times but on that peak I’ll dine.

The old is gone. This is the new me. Call me Africa. The iletrate old is gone now watch me soar through the wind as I take conscious steps to create inclusive, prosperous economies.

The fearful, poor old is done suffering. The naive, ignorant old is no more.

I am the mother of creation and I’ll fight for it.
I am the concept of life and not the lazy descriptions and lies that they feed my daughters.
I am beauty in its natural state.
I am dark and lovely so mourn me no longer.
Keep the tickets to your pity party because I’m not tagging along."

Her dulcet voice as sweet as any songbird through my ear just tickled my fancy and I wished I could plant her and grow a whole field of her so I told her,

"Girl. If you'll be my bride, I'll groom you. I know you've heard so many lies but allow me to set you free for I'm truthful.

Let me be the Mwangi in your bony face to sooth you, to occupy your heart and defend it at all costs.

Let me give you the best of me as we work on the negatives and trust me together we’ll make the stars have a life.

Take my hand, your world I need to know. Old with you I need to grow."

And so the deal was sealed. In sickness and in health, with her I'll be. In sad and happy times with her I'm free. So let it be known that this soldier of love will fight for his African Queen till he is no more, till this odd is normal and when I receive the call of my ancestors, I want the next generation to know that I died protecting our love.

Let them know that I died with my hand raised above my head, fist clenched high not because I was too stingy to open up but because the splendor of my Queen was too precious to let go, to sell out.

Let them know that I gave up. Yes. I gave up fear and grabbed the courage of Wangari Maathai to fight for this cause amidst the threats so my people can enjoy greener pastures.

Let them know.
Let them know that I gave up freedom and embraced prison with the attitude of Nelson Mandela, Masinde wa Nameme and the Mau Mau warriors to forge hope with more than 16 bars, African beats, drums, kicks and snares to produce a soothing jam call it a fruity loop.

Tell them.
Tell them I shook hands with foes on all twos in the spirit Koffi Annan and Desmond Tutu to pick up pieces of shattered hopes and angered hearts, sewed them together and created a masterpiece with unity and harmony.

Let them know that in the faith of Fela Kuti, Abdel Nasser, Patrice Lumumba and Kwame Nkrumah I died with my mouth wide open, making the necessary noise. The noise that demanded ears. Ears to fill with clear messages against oppression, segregation and monopoly.

Let them know that in the spirit of Julius Nyerere, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, Queen Amina and the Dahomey Mothers I died on my feet unwavered on my stand and efforts to preach hope.

Tell them I owned the vision of Thomas Sankara,

Let them know that I’m attracted to her like a dog to a bone, like a nose to perfume and this love will never die.

Credits:

Photographer: @lillianliuphotography

Model: @theresafractale

Make-up: @ladyfreakshow

Hair: @iamdhair_stylist

Designer: @lindafriesen.couture