Because I’m a Girl 


Because Im a girl Im not Lavinah,I am baby,honey,darling,

sweetheart.
Because I am a girl, my dress is not neat or beautiful but sexy and hugs my “twins” nicely and the only time my future is bright.
Because I am a girl, when Im raped they dont ask “kwa nini” but quick to ask “alikua amevaa nini?”
Because I am a girl, 5years into marriage, reduced into almost a bag of walking clothes thanks to ‘baby fat’ and I’m no longer sweetie,honey BUT mama Naniii..
Because I am a girl, If I smile it has to be a ‘man’ and when I sob then “he wasnt my man”.
Because I am a girl, Im blue ticked when I feel “The -beb- si- unizalie” line by mafisi trying to sound serious is cliché and needs rebranding,
Because I am a girl,  I am Hope and at 24 I managed to buy a cliquish car which my fiancé can barely afford my mum-in-law only feels the ‘P’ in my Hope is silent at night and ‘nimewekwa’ and not fit for marriage,uh huh not fit for his son thus i should keep searching…
Because Im a girl defending my Degree in Law is null and void and as fake as Muhoho’s Kiswahili,and therefore reduced to STD(sexually transmitted Degree)that is dread and whose signs and symptoms clearly displayed by my beauty,
Because Im a girl my synonym is submissive and subjective.
Because I am a girl my hobby is being mummy, getting paged,baby sitting,breast feeding and playing nanny☺
Because I am a girl I don’t have a religion,I am tribeless,nameless and homeless.
Because I am a girl,Im more of a broken window over winter,Im to be seen and not to be heard at times and my screams are rather voiceless.
Because I am a girl several ungenuine “I love yous and I miss yous” are almost tatooed on my body.

Because I am a girl I have invested in a bank of EMOTIONS I can never withdraw.
Because I am a girl and a single mom then “I rushed” BUT when the child is grown and a star he is everything like the father from his scent,smile to his shadow.
Because I am a girl in marriage,”Where and with whom?” become my best questions “You need to chill and You are always overacting.” His best answers,
Because I’m a girl,I’m sorry from a man is a stranger in the bus and If you get lucky to get one then his fellows are quick to say ako na “umama”

Because I’m a girl,at 28 and unmarried then I’m the problem,but men my age and unmarried are said to have not found the right one,she has to change you’ll hear them murmur.
Because I am a girl a love without betrayal is still a heaven I seek.
Because I am a girl.

Miss Dawn Lavinah💛

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…Of Masks and Our Anniversary.

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…And its been forever since I wrote…And prolly you guys are already thinking I quit being an Ambassador of the dreaded C word.Or maybe I stopped being a crusader for Gender equality and being the ‘liberal’ feminist I was slowly turning into without my knowledge.Im pretty sure someone somewhere thinks I finally got over him and this time I finally found love in a less hopeless place and thats why maybe I stopped painting love as bitter and just bitter…

Well it’s been a journey and like any relationship;Ours always trickled me.It started with this bang!Rose to a crescendo and just flicked out without a warning.Like an odourless,colourless gas that sneaked in and out without anyone’s knowledge;but as harmless as it seems it leaves one choking and wishing they’d quickly reach out for some water;same applied to ‘Our relationship’.It just died,left a scar maybe two, now a smelly bone hidden in my ugly past.Several regrets and chains of endless ‘I wish I knew…’ and countless questions of ‘what if…’I did this or that..what if I tried harder…bla bla.

Through the journey of silent monologues to never ending memories bitter and sweet.Sometimes smilling,sometimes frowning..sometimes wearing a mask of denial,and wishing and having divided attention…But
lately, by the day is a bunch of souls hungry for knowledge and so much in need of attention.By the night is a father(loving and caring one)that needs to be attended to.On the way is a ‘lover’ maybe..He is everything sweet but a ‘busy snob’gets me thinking maybe on the way too is some ‘Becky’ with bad make up.However, he has helped in this journey.He wears a mask of goodness and understanding so far.And piece by piece he has helped in recollecting my once ‘broken self’.Actually I no longer ‘wish for hands to run into’when feeling lonely and alone…

But today my mind wandered of alittle and I figured its nine days,ninety nine minutes,nineteen microseconds to ‘Our’ anniversary.18th.A very special day;Its Ann’s birthday.My realest MVP and all time squad.She holds a smile brighter than a hundred stars…On the same day;this guy I never called by name,my 50 Shades of Awesome was that until Karma happened and my ‘forever and for always’was forever until we couldnt take it any longer.

So on our ‘anniversary’I stand on the crossroads

Looking lost,yet found.

Im smiling and gloomy.

Every entrance;is yet an exit

Every silent scream is yet so loud.

Literature lovers will agree its more of a montage.Celebrating Ann’s birthday;gashing down the birthday cakes at the same time adorned in a mask black everything.

In as much as I long for it, only this time there wont be any candle lit dinner,no chocolate,no dancing to Christina Perry’s A thousand years;instead It will be a thousand tears,chain of regrets,endless ‘I wish I knew’The worst part is trying to figure out if he got my replacement.Tempted to find out narrows  down to stalking him simply because he unfriend my poor ass in all social sites.I just hope this time my heart wont skip a beat.I hope to smile and prolly figure out this is me finally getting over him.Maybe I’m just wearing a mask,well this mask works best for me. 🙂

Posted in Relationships | 12 Comments

Graciano;about to have an Orgasm

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While poets all over the world will be celebrating World Poetry Day on the 21st of this month, they shall also be enjoying two sizzling poems by Graciano. This is because on that same day, “12 Million.Nonsense” and “What Nigerians Want”, all by Graciano Enwerem shall be released that same day.

Graciano Enwerem {Grrraciano} is a Spoken Word poet, writer and teacher. A graduate of English And Literary Studies, Imo State University. He’s the winner of War Of Words 3, YouPoetry Slam, 9 times winner of Sea View’s Poetry Challenge, Winner Of War Of Words Online slam 1 and cofounder of Figures Of Speech {F.O.S.}, the first online creative group on whatsapp. He’s been proffered so many awards which include the SPIC Most Outstanding Achiever Of The Year, 2014, IFA’s Atonisona Of Poetry Award, 2015, Creative Writers’ Association of Nigeria’s Literary Critic of the Year and was also voted the number 1 poet 2016 at the EGC rankings.
      “What Nigerians Want” by Graciano Enwerem is by all standards one of the most hilarious satyrical poems of all time. It elucidates almost all the very funny kind of prayers most Nigerians say. Nigeria, being a very religious country is captured in this poem as a country whose sense of humor is limitless as it extends on to the kind of prayers her citizens most likely say. This poem garnered a whupping 10-10-9.5 points in the first round at War Of Words 3, a poetry slam organized by i2x Media in Nigeria. Veekthur the LyricPoet, one of F.O
S.’s finest lyricists is featured in the audio content.
        “12 Million Nonsense” by Graciano Enwerem is one of the most popular poems that made waves in 2014, especially in Nigeria. The poem bares not only the futilty of the National Conference in Nigeria in March, 2014 but also highlights the curruption fecundity embellished therein. The poem, “12 Million Nonsense” amassed a perfect score (10-10-10) in the final round at War Of Words 3, a poetry slam organized by i2x Media and till date has remained one of the fans’ favorite of all Graciano Enwerem’s poems. MTN subscribers can SMS 046502 to
4100 to get it as their ringback tunes…..Watch out for @gracianoEnwerem

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THE OTHER WOMAN-

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…..With Paul,I was the “other woman,the home wrecker and the bold ones even called me a whore;with Jack I was the lucky girl;Ours was an example of “black love that thrived”He was my everything;that song that entered my soul  uninvited and had never stopped playing ever since….But one auntie msweet(no pun intended)was the one he chose over me.I did fall,with this ugly thud;I mean he made feel all floaty but…but yeah I had to get down.Each piece went falling down piece by piece as if Jack was the string that held me together in place.So today I rammage through bad relationships;and people think how I need to catch a break…….

Well I know you judge me,But I’m getting enough;I couldnt possibly ask for more,in your eyes its endless odd adjectives that come up with the prefix “Un”You call it unpure and uncooth but don’t you think am unworthy too?more of a fixed hell Or some broken window over winter?You see once upon a time I was this good girl,with this great ass that could drag the moon of its orbit(atleast Jack made me believe that)I had these many blessings to count and a good relationship was one of them….and a good job too maybe after school.                                                    
    Chemistry lectures were anticipated for back in college days,not because we got favours or some sort of motivation but because of this our Afrikaaner lecturer;he was actually White that everyone almost called him Blanche;to the daughters of Eve Handsome was almost his name,there was no way your mind would wander away during his lectures..not with all that package of handsomeness infront of us..Actually we didnt mind having remidial classes…this was until I met Jack.

Jack;a man with a handsome beard,craggy cheeks,a bit tall and always wore this warm smile,a warmer one than the air around him…he was friendly and also witty so he would help around with school work from time to time.We got fond of each other and the emotionally slutty me that seems to fall in love with every person I had long conversations with did fall for him.I got excited each time a notification popped and hoped the light would reflect his name and this would automatically send a curve on my face.a smile; unlike the one I wear as I jolt this down.Jack loved partying;me books,he was into school politics;I loved music.We were different yet compatible.We tried to keep promises,several calls,endless texting sessions and a million ‘I love you’s’ which he replied to with no form of disdain painted on his face however,I had my suspicions…although he made me feel floaty  and even introduced me to his family and I even had to try learn his local Lingua Franca to better minister with his mum.

It was wonderful,a nice rhythm we had going on,some great sex sort of a thing,no thinking sort of a thing until one April  everything came crashing down.I discovered he was seeing another beautiful freshman too whose name I learnt later on.On his diary he deliberately called her “auntie msweet”Though it was a no sort of a thinking thing, I had my suspicions as I had mentioned earlier and this diary had all the details…all in one package.It was over whelming sadness,his efforts to explain himself bore no fruits,the diary changed everything…the past,present,future.Jack pulled all sorts of denials which only fell on deaf ears…It was begging,crawling and calling two weeks later in his efforts to patch up things.He said we could fix it and  loved me too much to let go.The vulnerable me thought it wise we patch up things and take my “good man”back.

Electrons,atoms,Organic theory analysis sometimes got complicated and hard to understand but for the sake of mr.Handsome we never failed to attend.no matter how complicated but still not as complicated as how my relationship with Jack turned out to be.Some part of me didnt want me to keep the relationship;another wanted me to stick to this man,who this blessing growing inside me will never call by name.Things changed;where and with who?became my favorite questions.He felt bothered and without mincing his words called me insecure and immature.swollen legs,additional weight and the hour glass slowly fade away.Cheeky Jack thought I was this massive walking bag of clothes.In his eyes I was a little less pleasant.The doctor felt I was over thinking and as if that wasnt enough Cindy;our ‘mutual’ friend warned me about Jack not having completely cut contact with the freshman.He would be spotted oftenly with her..Well if you thought calling him baby or giving him a baby will help keep a man you are wrong,you can only keep a man who wants to be kept.I go back to that dark trying times,horror;loads of it.I couldnt fix it.I can’t take it back either.Well my good man stabbed me again!

The doctor said it was okay.I was protecting my future.White coats,blue overals,blinding like light,awkward silence,drugs,drugs and more drugs.I woke up feeling light and in pain.The theatre;I remember being alone for days that followed.The first surgery unsuccessful;the surgeries that followed…he was nowhere,my good man was no where to be found.Slipping in and out of conciousness surrounded by pain,silence and loneliness.Days later I was discharged and in pain,lonliness and solitude that followed.Twenty one and wrapped into a ball of pain and confusion.In my solitude no one was there.I was visibly invisible but slowly left that behind.Gave myself hope and strength all the way back to my feet.

I learnt to live the moment,wake up everyday and be the person I was afraid I wasnt when I lost the precious of things.Dried my tears and earn the grace to keep me going.You see, I lived but my baby did not.The doctor even said I’d never have another.So thats how I gave up on the routine life;school-love-family-death.I live the moment…I put so much make up,helps with hiding my many shades,wear this smile,look more stunning than your judgemental self.I kept waiting for God to punish me and each time a relationship crushes,I count myself lucky even for the little I get.You see; beautiful relationships are for women worthier than myself,untouched and untainted by pain.Able to bare children and just settle down.What you don’t know is like an odourless,colourless flame that sneaks in and disappears just like that without a trace.I know better;I know when they snap and what can be lost.So I put my cloak of pain and gratefulness everyday and leave the judging to you.Maybe this time ;I will date Philip the rich man fifteen years my senior.You probably are rolling your eyes and anger seething in your heart.But guess what?It doesnt move me.I love being Two…

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Signed by Mummy-

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I’m writing this slow because I know you can’t read fast.

If you begin to wonder why; why I always wear a patch on my eye or even sun glasses even over winter, why my eyes look a little pale as compared to yours and daddy’s, why my hair is blonde when yours is darker than taffy and I am three or two shades lighter than other mums out there and have to wear a cap every time we out in the park…when the “whys” will endless drown your thoughts my child….

I won’t want you to strain your little head and yet again begin to feel I am “abnormal..Out of love I was born in a field of reality, of fate I didn’t choose. When I was your age, unlike you and your happy moments of love, excitement and affection, mine were marked with less happy moments and panic due to my arrival. I was the delicate child. My birth was normal only with a ‘larger number of nurses and doctors in the delivery room; nine of them. And its not because my head was too big and I was refusing to come out amidst the push and pulls, it’s just other complications. Then they broke the rather sad news to my parents; I was amutant and that I lacked melanin…yeah, mutant like the teenage mutant ninja turtles, but only that my kind of mutant was sort of a disease, a disease that caused partial or complete loss of coloring to my skin, eyes and hair. In the current adolescent world I’d have been labeled the “yellow-yellow dada”, but mine was a condition, not a blessing to be proud of by then.

My little one; growing up is fun, all that playtime and happy moments you spend with other kids. It is traditionally time for sports, hide and seek games, hoola-hoops and fun time…but I never had those fun moments either. Mine was marked with frequent visits to the hospital and a series of endless “how do you feel?” questions from my parents and the doctors. I grew up “the weak one” and only got to read that in story books. The disease controlled me and made me feel like a broken heaven…

My parents, siblings and eveyone always supported me in all ways possible but even all the frequent checkups and visits to the eye exam room did not make me feel less a graceful person. Instead I embraced my fears and grew up to a strong soul. Even with a weaker body and endless skin and eye problems, I strived to show my inner joy with an outward smile….

Rejection from my peers was a pie I had to consume. Like poison it killed me slowly inside. I was termed the odd one; in my eyes they saw mistrust and always a shade of nervousness. They kept wondering what was wrong with me. At times they claimed my red eyes frightened them and even disabled their feet from carrying them around; if this aint the height of hate then I don’t know. I was the unwanted child in the block, the lonely and the loner, but like a flower I learnt to give fragrance even to the hand that readily plucked and crushed me. So I always acted friendly even if all they did was have me soak my pillow with tears at night because all they did was make me feel miserable.

He I never called by his name- your dad, gave me a reason to love summer however how much I detest it. I met him after one of my very many eye checkups. He was a nice guy and with him was everything I loved and wished for in my aisle man. He was cheeky (in a nice way though). He never stopped seeing poetry in my everything. He actually made me feel like a rather fixed hell from how he would say my blonde hair was compatible to the sun and my eyes like bright snow glow and look more of sleep “drugged eyes”, and for my plumpness he compared it to that of a child (I didn’t like this much though)

Through the years and tears he learnt to be my bestfriend, making me feel all beautifully flawed…He kept encouraging me to smile and that tomorrow was just “today with a few better breaths in between” So I took the patience pie and waited upon better unfolding days..

My frequent staring at the mirror hoping to wake up different reduced…Each day I learnt to appreciate myself the way I was…The traces of tears on my eyes because of my bleeding soul was just but now a stranger in a bus.

I loved your daddy and he loved me back.

In a journey,

fruits found purpose in a tree,

a blessing in my tummy grew,

the voiceless voice that kept screaming,

“mummy you have to be strong for me, for us!”

The kicks and the movements made me smile foolishly. And i kept saying to myself…”dear child I promise you will have the best eyes in the entire universe, just remember to bring a twin when you come haha” The frequent checkups begun, again. Only this time I left the hospital more hopeful and happy with my arms neatly tucked in your dad’s. I learnt to become the mother that stood among hordes to be counted; my mercy and love for you my unborn child overpowered the social stigma and rejection…

Today, I bless the night you were conceived but I bless more the day you were born. Its clear life will toss beautiful things your direction unlike your mummy’s…from songs that will be composed and poems that will be written to praise your beauty… Feeling your heart beat against mine reminds me that God exists and looking at this image I can’t help but ask…Is it legal to look this cute?
     
                     Your loving Mum.

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DREADED -C- WORD

crying woman

….And she bears the pain;

Of a soldier unjustly murdered.

A broken lover feeling wasted.

An orphan feeling less blessed,

A needy soul feeling rather rejected,

A recovering alcoholic all bruised,

An expectant teen feeling all used…

Because of the dreaded -C- word.

 

To family, friends; fills them with bitterness,

Leaving them full of emptiness,

Upon the dreaded, unforgiving arms of sickness;

That drained her into an eternal rest…

 

Endless coughs; unwelcomed fevers,

The beautiful smoky eyes,

Reduced to yellow balls,

Extreme tiredness; clear weight loss

Nausea,

and endless hair loss.

 

Painted in her eyes is unbearable pain.

Tears rolling down her cheeks she can’t refrain.

Trips to the medics

and she knew..

That the nightmare is horribly true.

 

They said;

“We can’t inhale the lives he can steal.

Even amidst researches; they’ve failed to heal.

Radiation, chemo and pill for the while,

Would make her live an extra mile.

The chemo slowly eats up her cells; good in a bad way.

Causing extreme tiredness as her energy it takes away.

Her body stained with endless pins and needles,

Makes her think death will bear less painful days.

But as they said

“We can’t inhale the lives he can steal.”

 

“Her days are numbered”,

They add.

And her beautiful smile on her face,

That illuminates a dull place,

Will just be a guest gone…

 

Why ‘me’? She kept asking on and on.

But; he is sneaky

not selective,

And walks in uninvited

like a detective.

Swiftly slow and eats up so fast.

In your loved one’s soul leaving a vast…

 

He is called “cancer” a name so gross…

Not a graceful soul; he will bring a loss.

In the society he has learnt to fit,

Only to bring death; the devils gift.

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BitterSweet.

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And;Its endless dates on Friday nights,Its a beautiful story with a happy ending.Its butterflies and goose bums.A never dying knee melting smile and its a feeling of a little heaven on earth…a picture of happily ever after.

That i defined as true love as i grew up…It was getting home smelling like teenage love,his ability to make me feel eternity in an hour,,,to see the world in a grain of sand.It was him giving me infinity in the palm of my hand.
True love was a card embraided in red roses,favourite chocolate and a bouqeut of well scented and beautifully wrapped flowers whenever an occassion called for..It was kissing in the rain,playing strip basketball on warm saturday afternoons,endless series of “beautiful” selfies together.

It was him boosting my ego at parties,a chain of candling light dinners…It was him making me feel good for the night of one,twos and threes.True love was him holding heaven in his smile and two full moons in his eyes.True love was just a perfect story…

But wait!What am i even saying?!Guess am all grown now(in my late 20s btw)wiser and older still young at heart and soul(whats the essence of a young heart and a poor old face though?)anyways that was crap i believed to have been true love back then BUT now am ‘old’ enough just to realise what true love really is….

Its his ability to make me see heaven in a wild flower,being honest even when it hurts,quarelling over unmade beds,its long hours of late nights after long working hours,its tears from laughter and sadness and nothing like fairy tales..it is never running out on what to say to each other..It is ‘you are a dummy’ ‘you are silly’ and ‘baby’ and yet feeling so lucky you heard those.

True love is several calling hours and less texting,its getting mad over silly things and still hope to wake up besides that person the next morning,kissng him at 6 A.M even with the bad breath,its confession of emotions at 5A.M instead of sleeping,its waking up to a half undisturbed bed and smiling knowing he will be away for the week and you can’t wait for Friday night..

It is that song you hear on the radio and smile because it reminds you of him,it’s singing the wrong lyrics to your favourite song at the top of your lungs and convincing each other how the artist keeps getting the lyrics wrong.True love is a tear filled night and make up sex after he made you apologise for a wrong you did in his dream,its never leaving him even when things are at their worst.It when ‘forever’didnt mean forever until you can’t stand it anymore.

It is never losing magic and treating every kiss,hug and embrace as your first..It could be the ‘worst’story but yet again thanking God it worked out anyways;True love is bitter and its sweet,full of words that only hurt to heal,its full of flaws but the holy grail of any sort of love

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