Survival- a poem dedicated to Kayayei

I am currently writing my thesis on the viability of setting-up an agency for Kayayei (female head porters) I wrote this poem  a few days ago as I was transcribing the  interviews and focus group discussions I used for my data collection. Take a look!

Survival

You laugh, point at me and insult me down to the last article I have

You walk further and faster as the load gets heavier and I pant harder

I feel the weight of your wares travel through my spine

And re-awaken my pains of the previous days

I shudder when I see the looks on the faces of the men

When they strip me naked as I walked through the market

And watch me with spite

But I know I can’t go back

Baba and my many mothers await my return with the good things of the city

My yet to be decided suitor also awaits

I need to break my spine over and over again to purchase the few utensils

That would decorate my room after my marriage

Each passing day, I earn less and less

And spend more and more for a place to rest my aching body, to feed and wash down

For yet another spinning day in the heat or with the lashing of the cold whips of the rain

Of the days when I know you value your wealth on my head than the entirety of my being.

Neina.