He called you “wife material”,
so you began to blush.
No matter what she knows,
and what she becomes,
why is it that what a woman weighs on
anyone ‘s wife material scale
is what she’s worth?
So, he made you his material,
true to his word.
He even prostrated to get you-
paid your expensive bride price in full.
You’re intelligent and beautiful;
you’ve been spent in the university too,
but you have a new name and owner,
who can do whatever he wants to you.
“K’aso e soke!”,
[raise your gown!];
“afi ko maa lo e mole bii aso oke”
[he demands for the sex he paid for].
He even beats you like “aso ofi”,
to tailor you to suit his needs.
Your husband’s insecurities have to come first;
who are you to have any dreams?
He wears you out,
then he wears you out to functions
where worthless wife-materials must be worn,
to be entitled to respect and dignity.
He shows you to his friends
and tells them to get one like you.
Then he takes you home and hangs you;
he’ll respect you at the next event.
I’m not telling you to miss being a Mrs;
I’m telling you to not miss your life
to be a man’s reserved slave- a Mrs.
A single person is a person still;
if the society will not accord you respect
till you get a husband,
whether or not he will abuse you
in ways that are socially acceptable,
accord the society’s lack of respect no respect
and take all the time you need.
People wipe your tears for a while,
and then they let them dry on their own.