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daughter of shinyalu

#1
THE BROOM
My husband's broom is worn out
Whenever he uses it to sweep
He leaves the compound untidier than before.
He seems not to mind and even laughs about it.
Men of Shinyalu come talk to my husband
Let him know this is a serious matter.
Who will the daughter of Shinyalu blame?
She will blame herself,
When her agemates were getting married to strong village men
Who were raised on lisutsa,saga, kunde and miro
She powdered her face and went for a man from the city
Who had biscuits for breakfast, pizza for lunch and chips for supper.
Now she bites her finger in regret and curses everyday
My husband can not sweep satisfactorily,
He pauses to stretch his back
He pauses to yawn
When he takes hold of the broom again
He works and moves only three paces away
Then sits on his stool sweating profusely
wheezing for breath like a mad donkey racing uphill.
His broom lying flat on the ground nearby.
He says the compound is too vast
And that he is busy man
He doesn't have time to work on it all day.
Surely how can the gods give a man such a huge piece of land,
Fertile and pleasant to eye,
And deny him the brains to satisfactorily take care of it?
Akh poh,
The daughter of Shinyalu is tired
The daughter of Shinyalu will not stand a weak man
He must know where I come from
Even men as old as 90 seasons sweep their compounds to satisfaction
Today is today,
He will hold his broom and not drop it till I say so
He will cry and howl like a wounded dog
But I will not let him stop
He will feign fainting and convulsing
But I will pour a calabash of water on him
And get him back to work.
Today he will become a bull
Today I will make itaywa out of him
If I fail I shall curse my home and leave for my parents house
If I succeed he will live to respect the daughters of Shinyalu
If he dies in the process, let him die
At least they will say The boy from the City
Who took our daughter died a MAN!

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#Sultan_Heartbeat
 

Mathaais

Village Chief
#2
Tonne of bullcrap.
Tell that woman to secure the future of her children 1st rather than being immersed in futile never ending carnal desires.
 
#19
THE BROOM
My husband's broom is worn out
Whenever he uses it to sweep
He leaves the compound untidier than before.
He seems not to mind and even laughs about it.
Men of Shinyalu come talk to my husband
Let him know this is a serious matter.
Who will the daughter of Shinyalu blame?
She will blame herself,
When her agemates were getting married to strong village men
Who were raised on lisutsa,saga, kunde and miro
She powdered her face and went for a man from the city
Who had biscuits for breakfast, pizza for lunch and chips for supper.
Now she bites her finger in regret and curses everyday
My husband can not sweep satisfactorily,
He pauses to stretch his back
He pauses to yawn
When he takes hold of the broom again
He works and moves only three paces away
Then sits on his stool sweating profusely
wheezing for breath like a mad donkey racing uphill.
His broom lying flat on the ground nearby.
He says the compound is too vast
And that he is busy man
He doesn't have time to work on it all day.
Surely how can the gods give a man such a huge piece of land,
Fertile and pleasant to eye,
And deny him the brains to satisfactorily take care of it?
Akh poh,
The daughter of Shinyalu is tired
The daughter of Shinyalu will not stand a weak man
He must know where I come from
Even men as old as 90 seasons sweep their compounds to satisfaction
Today is today,
He will hold his broom and not drop it till I say so
He will cry and howl like a wounded dog
But I will not let him stop
He will feign fainting and convulsing
But I will pour a calabash of water on him
And get him back to work.
Today he will become a bull
Today I will make itaywa out of him
If I fail I shall curse my home and leave for my parents house
If I succeed he will live to respect the daughters of Shinyalu
If he dies in the process, let him die
At least they will say The boy from the City
Who took our daughter died a MAN!

© Copyrights Reserved
#Sultan_Heartbeat
@uwesmake saidia huyu...
 

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