Poem: The African Woman

A legendary portrait of the primitive African woman.

The African Woman

Bearing logs from the woods or water pots on the head
Bearing fingers in the fire or smoke in the eyes
Working out endless laundry and cooking for her household
Bearing the children of her womb;
She takes pride in her every occupation
And holds no grudge against her creator.
What is this African riddle of strength?
But the priceless mothers of our land once upon a time.

Whether by work in the farms or some petty kind of trade
She feeds her home with her fingers
- Without despising its -not uncommonly- incapable head
She carries family in mind rocking them gently with prayers
- For as long as her heart beats.
She teaches her sons and trains her daughters
She pours her maiden strength into them till she’s empty
They are her Pride; the cream of all her accomplishments.
She is the pillar on which a house stands
And the roof under which they have shade
She builds her house on the inside -
Shaming women who haven’t such a heart.

She makes a prince of her man
– Whether he be chief or common, a thief or a drunk -
She reveres him like some god
And serves him like a slave;
Yet she clothes him like a garment
And takes care of him like a mother
She looks after their children as if she looks for gems
To crown her beauty
Yes indeed! God has smiled on her man.

Oh! Come from the great western world
Come from all around the globe
To these grand spotlight of Africa -
Not a geographical spectacle or other tourist interest
But nonetheless to an evergreen of lively fruit
And a special gift we have from God:
Real women made great mothers!

© 2005, Tee Akindele