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“PEEKABOO” (suicide notes)

Article, Poetic

I didn’t choose me!
I didn’t choose how I came & I don’t know how I did.
I didn’t choose the day I was born nor the name I got,
I didn’t choose me!
I didn’t choose the place where I was born.
Family, Siblings… I didn’t choose a thing,
I didn’t choose me!
Most of all, I didn’t choose my gender;
I didn’t choose the genitals that I’ve got under…
I didn’t choose me!

So, why should Society choose me
as an executive victim
of its uncircumcised circumcision.
A process of excision that has exited the life of many, with no precaution.

In my clan, I was told about the fruity-flower in-between my thighs
which must be trimmed in order for it not to become edible for every man.
The Elders claimed this process of fruity-flower trimming
will not make me get deflowered untimely.
They say it will guard us – my gender, from being a prostitute.
They say it’s a basic initiation into becoming an adult in this hood.

Just as I didn’t choose me,
I didn’t choose how or with what…
But it happened… when I was a Teenager!

In my own pain,
I saw my gender dressed in another body I know, die the night after the excision,
I saw… I saw others gnash from regular irregular cycle of menstruation,
In the following months.
While a few narrated to me how they experienced painful urinations.
See!
They narrated to me,
but I couldn’t talk to any being;
I kept my pains with me.
How strong I am, they all thought!
But I kept my infections
to me.

The day I turned 18, my death-day gift
was the message the eldest man in our clan was passing to his son.
As I heard the words,
my heart broke like the sun disappearing in the day
and my eyes were cloudy like it’s going to rain.
He said to his son:
“females are only meant for the bed;
maybe the kitchen too.”

My ears itched at the words that made me wonder
whether due to my gender,
I’m just a tool to be used –
by the opposite gender.

Then, I met the opposite gender!
A wonderful human with a heart of gold; with loads of love so tender.
See, he was the perfect partner
for me.
See, he’s best for me,
but I wasn’t and I am not half-good for him.

Coz I bore this intra-curse.
So, each time we had intercourse
was worse than the previous.
Pain and Displeasure, it was for me –
the opposite of everything I’ve read love should be.

The Doctor said I have an infection
and because of no attention,
it has damaged my womb.
The Doctor said operations would only make me healthy,
but I can’t birth a replica of my gender nor the opposite.

GOD!!
What did I ever do wrong?

I didn’t choose me!
I didn’t choose how I came & I don’t know how I did.
I didn’t choose the day I was born nor the name I got.
I didn’t choose the place where I was born.
I didn’t choose my gender & I didn’t choose the genitals
that I’ve got under…
But I was chosen, for no good.
I was mutilated for no basic good!
Not one, talk more of two.

I weep as I leave all earthlings this note.
I weep reminiscing that our mothers cut every child of my gender
with their uncivilized tools,
even though the Elders who made them do it still sought after a taste of our fruits.

If only they knew…
they will eunuch the elders too!
If only they knew…
that it is a game – Peekaboo.

By the time you find this paper,
please do not weep.
I only decided to choose this…
since I never chose me.
***

An Original Poetry
of Ola ‘TheRAWPoet’ Adene
(@olaadene)
on Female Genital Mutilation (FGM).

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Cirphrank is a pun. Web developer, content writer, 2D minimalist UI, blogger. Breathing poetry.

What makes many mad makes some Philosophers, what makes others sad makes me write. A lover of tech and the arts.

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