By Nyanchoka Movine N.


My son, my only son

I watched as you crawled

I marvelled at your excellence in school, at home

Seeing you mature, grow your beard

And now, you are er… engineer

Still, you wash utensils, mop the house

Cook my dearest meal, mrende

Still, son


SOMETHING is amiss.


You are the ladies’ type

The one they call ‘tall dark and handsome’

The one they see and miss their breaths

But you, son

Have never been affected

By these beautiful women’s charm.

Days, months and years are running, uninterrupted

You are not becoming any younger

Neither am I.


Son, Mama Chiri’s learned daughter

The one who is a doctor

The one who has waited for you, son

The one that has not kissed a single frog

Is still waiting for you

She cannot sleep well

Because of you son

Why can’t you marry her

And have children

Like your other learned friends?


Last night, son

You had no mercy left for this fragile body

You murdered me

You stabbed my heart

Your words,

Fresh and murderous

‘I don’t have feelings for her,

Or for any other woman in this world, mama

I love men, mama

I love John

He turns me on, mama

Like Papa used to turn you on

I keep on saying

This is not your world, mama

This is digital, our time’.

Kwana ng’ora, ense tekoigwa

Don’t shout

If you do,

Your father will come from his grave

Explain to me, son

Where did I go wrong?


Isn’t a woman’s buttocks

Her heavy chest

Well packed natural hips

Sweet, soft voice and beauty

Her whole feminine body

Blended in with good character

Plus her expertise in the kitchen

Enough turn on for you, son?


What is the world telling you?

What is it doing to you?

What is this freedom that you have?

You call it sexual freedom

Man and man weddings

Woman to woman weddings

You call this freedom, son

How will you bear children, son?

And enjoy the joy of your blood children?

Isn’t this slavery

Aren’t you a slave, my son?

Aren’t you the world’s slave?


Son, go back

Search for your dignity

Search for your old ways

Where you used to tell me

‘I will give you a million grandchildren, mama’

I want my old you

I want my son back.


Son, marry

Marry a woman who is a woman

Search for your lost rib

Look well, when you marry

Confirm ‘Jennifer is Jennifer’

Not John, son

She complete you

She will give me my million grandchildren

Marry well, son

Then seek God’s blessings.




Mwandishi: Nyanchoka Movine N.

Mama Too anaenda kununua nyanya na kitunguu.

Too anabaki peke yake kwenye nyumba.


Stima inapotea ghafla.

Kuna giza jingi nyumbani.

Too anachukia giza sana.


Paka anapolia miau miau.

Too anatetemeka sana.

Usinile tafadhali. Too analia.

Halafu Too anajificha nyuma ya mlango wa jikoni.


Mbwa anapobweka bwe bwe bwe.

Too anatembea polepole.

Too anajificha chini ya meza.


Too anaitikisa meza.

Kalamu, vitabu na vikombe vinaakunguka chini.


Too anapiga nduru.

Mama weee. Mama weee. Nafa.Too analia.


Majirani wanaingia kwenye nyumba yao.

Jirani mmoja amebeba rungu.

Jirani huyo ako tayari kummaliza adui.


Mama Too naye anaingia.

Too, uko wapi? Mama anaita.

Niko hapa mama. Wameenda?

Watu wabaya walitaka kunila.Too anasema kwa sauti ya chini.


Stima inarudi ghafla.

Wako wapi tuwanyoroshe? majirani wanauliza.

Wamejificha jikoni. Too anaashiria kwa kidole.


Kule jikoni, mbwa na paka wanakula mabaki ya nyama.

Watoto wa siku hizi. Majirani wanasema wakitoka.