COME BACK HOME, MY DEAR MAMA

Mama, do you still remember the way home? Do you still remember the dusty, winding path and the hot January sun? Do you remember the scruffy hens that dotted your compound? Mama, do you remember your husband and your children? Do you remember our whining and the dry mucus on our noses? I don’t think you do anymore. The child you left years ago when milk had barely dried off his lips, the older girl who had just started budding at the chest and the little man who was developing a thick voice, well, you don’t remember them anymore do you? Think of your husband, that man with a bald head and a walking staff, the man that paid twenty heads of cattle and twenty sheep. Do you still value his wry half-smile? Do you still remember his coarse hands on you? You left us with nothing mama, no food, no clothes and went to town to seek opportunities. What did you get? Did you buy the big houses or drive the big cars? Did you get to ‘climb’ the airplane as you dreamt? Come back home mama, for a lot has changed without you. Your daughter does not know who to run to when she is on her periods. She can’t tell papa because it just doesn’t seem right. We the boys have missed you too, for now we have to play the roles of the children and the mother to our father. He misses you so bad that he sometimes whispers your name in his sleep. His bed is cold and dirty and neighbour say he is going crazy. Have mercy mama and come back home. We won’t judge or chastise. We won’t ask questions or seek answers.

The old lonely man, your once beloved husband, now howls out the name of his love, seated high up on the iron roof. Have mercy on him and come home to us mama.