On Being a Woman

I am insecure, I am afraid because I am a woman,I am scared because the rib that made me has turned into a disaster.
   I hate it that the society has made it my responsibility to take care of a man’s emotion, to dress a certain way so that he does not rape me,to act ‘accordingly’ so that he will love me,to speak politely so that he does not feel disrespected,to massage and pamper his ego so that he does not leave.

I am afraid for every little girl,every hustling lady and every trying woman, in the world that has turned into a jungle.
I am scared that I will walk into an office and the man on the other side of the table will try to hold my hand and pull me over,he will look deeply into my eyes and say “you know what to do to get the positive side of the  deal”
I am afraid of being in the same room with my uncle because he will ask me if I am a virgin and he wil try to confirm my answer.
  It scares me that my little sister is in a school with male teachers because she is a little beautiful girl and they’ll want to feel her long, soft hair.
   I wasn’t hoping that the rib that made me will turn into a recipe for disaster but it did, because childhood friends have turned against the girls they grew up with,fathers have made their daughters do a wifely bedroom duty in the bathroom, brothers have crept into their sister’s rooms in the silence of the night,not to narrate stories.
     I am scared of walking past a group of manufacturers of my flesh because they have no shame and they will catcall and they will drool and they will laugh and talk.
    They have even allowed the label ‘mafisi’ and act it,I fear for my life, because these hyenas walk on two legs and all wear trousers and look decent and I will not be able to differentiate a Man from a fisi.
   I hate it that they all have to attempt to have me,not because  they love me but because they know I am a woman and I have what they want.
I am afraid I can’t trust any of them because after 30 years of living together, he will stab me over 500 shillings.
Most have no God in them,the rest don’t even know who they are and they do drugs and screw girls and live like they have no purpose.
Guide us God,to the ones that know you,to the ones that have a heart,to the ones that are sympathetic and to the ones that care.
Make us of the caring and loving,understanding and trustworthy, because in the meaninglessness of life,I still want to find what my life symbolizes.


Freedom For a Woman From The North

     I wanted to betray traditions and chains of norms that tied everyone I knew,I wanted to fall in love and get my heart broken.

I did not want to slave for a man and have nothing to call my own.I wanted to surpass what they taught me and learn much more from a world that was full of lessons.I did not want to live for them,I wanted to take control of my decisions and actions.

I wanted to be free,wild,an outcast.I wanted to be alive and living in the beauty of goodness and the sorrows of evil,I had a desire to feel my world take shape as I waited to call it my home.
    I wanted to put on shorts,trousers,dresses and buibuis.
I wanted to weave my hair,braid it,dye it and even shave it if it sounded right to my ears.

They called me cursed but secretly longed for my courage.
I did not want to believe that God would love me if I did one thing and hate me if I did the other,I did not want to believe God’s purpose for my creation was to live in fear of the end times.

I knew He had given me the power to choose and whatever I lived by would not make Him hate me,I still believe this and live by it,so I forgave myself for all the times I thought myself unworthy in the eyes of those who looked righteous and more painfully in the eyes of the God who made me.

    I put on my wings and took a flight.I realized just how beautiful and simple the world is.I discovered a million worlds in the lives that touched mine,I saw hearts bigger than the entire universe and held conversations that were sweeter than the foods women were forced to cook for their men.

I felt the bitterest of heartbreaks and the sweetest of love.I sang forbidden songs and danced to the beat of the world,I freed myself from ties that were only as big as I thought they were and as inexistent as I made them be.

  So do not ask me why I am not like them because I just want to be me.I want to look at myself and feel that I have done all that I needed and wanted to do for myself.
    I want to wake up in the morning and not feel like I should not have seen this day when I have the power to make my life exciting.
    I am not willing to be imprisoned with chains that do not even exist.
    I want to be a woman and I do not want to hear any comment that will say I did it like a man.
    I want my voice heard.In a village where women are only required to take orders, I want to give orders and supervise,I want to have a say,I want to matter because I was not created for a reason as bogus as to be a man’s keeper.

     I want to say No when I should and not be afraid that they won’t like it.I don’t want to ask if they like me but if I will like them.
   I just want to live and be alive,I want my presence felt and I want to feel the presence of others.
    I simply want to have a life,a free,happy,sad life,as long as it is my life.
     I want to be free.

Day after Day

By:Munira Hussein
The seven letters that made up his first name and the eleven letters that made his two names,
were the building blocks of my entire world
I loved how they looked, like they were made for me in him
they sounded like the perfect pattern that completed the gap in my layout
and then he broke away,
slowly by slowly
until another came my way,
now his name wants to sound like the pieces that will complete my pattern
but I have done this before
My pattern feels perfectly fit
I don’t want to disrupt it
he wants to be the voice that always soothes me to sleep
I wanna stay awake though,
that’s what will happen when the silence befalls once again
he wants to be the one to open the door for me
I am not interested, I want to carry my luggage home
I want to hold my umbrella when it rains and carry my jacket when it gets too hot
because I will forget how to do those things
and he will go away
then I’ll run around wishing upon the dead to rise
and the sick to heal
for the Lord to come
for the world to end
because mine will have a full stop at the end by then.
I don’t want to go back there
to the darkness of a fading light
to the echo of a fading laughter
to the emptiness of a house haunted with shadows of smiles and love
Let my house be clear of memories
let my heart be wary and tired
let my soul be solo
let it be known that I tried
Let the side of my bed not know any other rib that is not mine
let it not be told of a man whose chest was once my head’s nest
let my roof not harbour any shadows of two lovebirds underneath
How it starts is not how it ends.
let this not start,
let’s put off the flame in our hearts
let’s kill this thing before its birth
for I have nothing,
but worry,
dug up from the past.

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E-mail: hmunira4@gmail.com
Twitter: @munirahussein
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A Million Questions

Is there a home for a heart that has lost its hope?
Is there a hope for a heart that has lost its course?
What comfort is there in thoughts that don’t transform?
What love is there in a heart full of pain?
Who cares about those that never healed
who will lead them back,those that lost their way
who will hold the shoulders of those without arms?
why is there so much chaos in the world
who will answer the myriads of questions I want to ask
why are people so forgetful
why do we kill sons and daughters of Africa
Why are the rich so rich and the poor so poor
why am I asking all these questions
why are you people not answering
Why is life the way it is
Why do people break hearts
The weight of the world breaks our backs,
Attraction to this phone breaks our necks,
A moron with a heart breaks another’s heart
Why do we kill a baby’s father
Why do we stab a child’s mother
why are people so mean
how will we ever succeed
someone make me understand what truth there is
what lie has been justified
what truth has been rejected
who did all these
Why is God so silent
Why do enemies pretend to be friends
why do haters fake love
Why do I feel so lost.

It’s a plea

By:Munira Hussein
I am the truth,
I am the road that leads me away,
then sways me back the right way.
   I am the thoughts that you avoid,
but feel the full void.
  I am the words that you don’t want to speak,
but repeat like a mantra,at the back of your head.
  I am the elegance you don’t want to see,
but don’t know how not to feel.
  I am the silence that sorrounds your outer rage,
but rumbles like a sea within your mixed emotions.
I know it by the way you look at me,
I know you wish I said a word,
two would be too much to ask for.
I know your vision of the movement of my lips
I see how you try to formulate words of the air I exhale.
I am not speaking though,
I am drumming my heart,
with palpitations,
drowning it in tears that fail to pour out of my eyes,
I know how it’s splashing.
So listen to my heart,
I know I’m the voice you never want to hear
the joy you would rather not feel.
stop looking at me like that
like you’re the wave that is distracting my sea,
like you’re reading the blankness of my thoughts
like you know who I am.

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Facebook: Munira Hussein
Twitter: @munirahussein
E-mail: hmunira4@gmail.com

The Woman I Want To Be

By:Identity Withheld.



I’m afraid  of falling into tradition, of being  what society  has already  created  of a woman, of being  the object that feeds and cleans a man. It’s  not in my list  of wishes to care for him, not in a friendly  way but in the way that makes him my responsibility, I don’t  want  to cook and serve  him, I don’t  want to clean  and dress him, I even think it’s unfair that I have to carry his baby. I know you’ll argue that it’s  my baby too but all indications prove that he has a little more right than I do.


I even don’t understand why it has to be me,to bear the pain,carry that child,crave,go through morning sickness, then bring him up.
I am tired of conflicting with my soul,convincing it that it’s okay,that there is nothing wrong,but hell yah! there is everything wrong.I want to do everything I want,I want to tame my heart,train it to love me more than anyone else,I hate the thought of having to go through the global epidemic of women worrying about where their men could be,talking about how he has changed,lately,coming home late,if he at all does come home.
The more I think about it,the more I discover, that that path that 99% of the female population travelled is not for me.I know I want to do something more for myself and a little more for humanity.
  It’s not about fun and freedom, it’s about inner peace and satisfaction, that after a long Monday at work,I don’t have to come home and worry sick about things concerning a grown man,and don’t lie to me that you can ignore!! no you can’t, he is supposed to be your man and when you think that he is roaming the streets like a stray dog,then you have to worry.
Don’t even try making it sound like I don’t work hard enough to make him come back home,so what if I also decide he isn’t good enough for me to go back home to early? I should have a choice of hanging out in avoidance of his company till late night.
  What happened to African women? nothing, they just opened their minds and saw life for what it really is,a short experience that shouldn’t be wasted following a misguided recipe that leads to formation of a concoction of chaotic moments.
I don’t want to follow any procedures, I want to step out of the lane,try over speeding, slowing down and changing lanes,I don’t want a bunch of few people to terrorise my life and just own it,I don’t want to know where everyone’s everything is when no one knows where my anything is,I don’t want to be a slave of violence with pans and plates,onions and garlics.
  I want freedom, from ties that bind me to specific positions,from specific thoughts that will continuously bombard my pretty mind with care and concern for people that will forever be part of me.