My Fat Woman, Will you Marry Me?

This poem was inspired by a comedian named “Gordon” at a recent comedy event dubbed “A Night of a Thousand Laughs”. He left me in stitches as he praised fat women. He said that he does not like them slim. He wants them “obvious”, the ones who are “matter” who can occupy space and that even in the Bible it says that people should “occupy” till the Lord comes. He said that he hates “cat-walk” and that cats are not the only animals. We also have hippopotamuses and elephants, he said. The only problem he had was that it was written that narrow was the way and that it would be difficult for them to enter the kingdom of God.

At the outset, let me apologize to my “slim” ladies. This poem might offend you. I advice that you skip reading it altogether. But if you do, then I will not accept responsibility. But you can decide to have fun, anyway. Tongue-in-cheek.

~

Come now, sweet one, I marry you,

For you have the qualities of a woman I want

I would go against the grain

Of TVs and fashion shows

Showing underfed women walking

Bones protruding from their shoulders

Miserable legs balancing on dais

This world went mad, Sweet one,

When it glorified women who did not eat

Cassava and yams and were plump and voluptuous

That is not my woman, no,

Pluck the cables, disconnect the TV

That is not the woman I want

I want a woman who fills half of my house

If I rest my head on her, I need no pillow

Times are hard, brother, and a little solace we must find

Pray, how will you find it on a bony rib-cage?

I want a woman who will walk in the marketplace

And others will notice her presence,

I heard women want attention, that much I will solve,

I want her big and fat, I want her curvaceous

A fat woman is the one I want

The one who will sit on two chairs

And feel “adequate”, that is my woman

We dwell in the land of plenty

I want her not to betray our national anthem

I don’t want her to pretend

Even for a second to be offended

For being called “fat”

Because that is how she will roll

And for her towering beauty

She should not apologize to anyone

She should not feed sick business ideas

Like “Diets” and “Aerobics” or “Gym”

This is a well-calculated scheme

To make her feel worthless, then when her self-esteem

Hits the rock, hey, the counselors come in

To be fat is the in-thing

I see no problem with fats to show

Just ask underfed women who can’t  hit 45 kgs

To be endowed is nature’s gift

For a gift, dear, flaunt it, let it show

Come now, sweet one, I marry you,

The assuredness of your footsteps

Will win you over to my parents

The roundness of your upper arm

Will do the trick, my woman,

The flesh in your feet and in your cheeks

Will speak of “abundance”

This they will want from the woman

Of my children

We will live big, my woman,

Big Kingsize bed, big house, big car,

Don’t worry, our door will be custom-made

You will enter it, not sideways but

As you do in a supermarket

So erase those silly images

Of underfed women

My heart melts away seeing you fat and plump,

Don’t reduce one adipose of it, or else you will break my heart,

My fat woman, will you marry me?

We Should Learn From Children

Yesterday, the 10^th of June 2012, I sat at the Aga Khan Walk of Nairobi and watched children—and teenagers— skate. I have always loved skating. I remember being introduced by it by my cousin, Sammy Situma, in 2004. I remember, with nostalgia, how I first wore the roller blades and could not walk an inch because I was afraid of falling. But after a few days, I had learnt how to skate. Yesterday, watching children learn the ‘baby steps’ in skating was so enlightening and profound; enlightening because they are the little things we learn from children and profound because there are very important life lessons that these children taught me.

First,

Children are enthusiastic and ready to learn. They wouldn’t mind stretching a hand for help.

Most of us don’t— unfortunately.

They will be keen to learn the ropes, to take that initiative, that step of faith.

For us, again, our feet are frozen in indecision.

And they will exude confidence if given the opportunity. This is the march of life. Just watch the determination and oomph on this little girl’s face. What about the purposefulness burning in her eyes?

And she knows, too, that a friend might fall sometimes and would need help. This is instinctive. Though she is still a learner and is “without resources”, she still has the willingness to help. She does not wait for the instructor to fix things. She does not look on helplessly. She just helps. Now, that is so profound.

But, sometimes, it happens that we don’t need to go it ourselves. She knows that too. It is as if she is whispering to her friend she is holding: ‘Friend, let us walk together. We might be learners but we need each other’. In life, we need friends. We are not lone rangers. We will walk with them in this life.

We need sometimes to pause and observe. We need rest. That way we help our bodies to re-energize and our minds to learn from others. If you come to think about it, life is not about uninterrupted actions but of intermittent breaks that helped us drive inspirations from our innermost selves and careful observation of what surrounds us.

But like humans we are, we fall. We are frail, transient.

We fall,

 again, again, again.

But, fellow pilgrims,

We know that every time we fall, we need to wake up. So, we firmly fix our palms on the tarmac, summon energy within ourselves and rise up. Yes, rise up. That is the spirit we have. We do that cheerfully.

And boy, what a cheer it brings to us when we are in control of things again. But at such times, we need a helping hand because though we might be down we are not out.

We admit that there would be uncertainties in life. We might not be sure what tomorrow holds or whether what we do today will add up to the philosophy we espouse in life. But we stand at this moment in time, all geared up sizing up life with glance of our eyes.

Then we do it, somehow, even if timidly so. But this life, if you come to think about it, fellow pilgrim, is all about timidity. Those who look at life as a butterfly are those who will not chase it away by swat of their arms. The brave and those who chest-thumped, while these attributes are great and laudable, could sometimes lose vital lessons in life of patience and humility.

We do it, our own way. There is no perfect formula in everything we do ourselves. Some are sharp and quick-witted. Others are slow. Some are loud. Others are reserved. We all learn how to do things in our own way. We are all unique.

If I pull your shirt, fellow pilgrim, don’t be offended. 

Sometimes I need to get my balance from you. You have been in this game for sometime now and though my pulling you back might hold you back for a moment, we all grow and become better skaters in this life.

You are our mentors. We are your protégés. We might be young and new in all this but we will be patient to learn from you— your moves, your instructions, your mild rebukes. We will take everything with the bigness of the heart.

And it is after a short while that we will roller-skate like the real pros. Such is life, fellow pilgrim, a skateboard. The spring in our feet and willingness to learn is what sets us apart. After a couple of false starts, much learning and enthusiasm, life rewards us.

Pandora

Pandora's Box

the greek myths hold

that all the miseries,

out of the folly of pandora

were thus brought upon humans

epimetheus

ensnared by the god’s traps

unheeded prometheus’ counsel

land of all-time spring

daffodils, hibiscuses, daisies—

all growing, not in flower farms

rivers flowing with milk and nectar

oak trees filled with acorns

mountain strawberries

all these, good pilgrim,

lost

but for every trouble,

the myth says,

there is hope

to soothe human woes

Poseidon

when the swelling waves of the lake mutinied,

brow-beating thunder, rumbling skies added to the frenzy

in its maze catching the lethargic fishermen by surprise.

of what lay hidden in those Lake Victoria waters,

no soul knew; of what the lake floor spread across

with unsatiating appetite for human blood, no soul

knew; caught up in the fish net was Poseidon’s spirit

the fishermen drew it up, up, up

eish yawa, fish wasn’t that heavy omera.

it was a trident, but no one saw it

it was the enraged Poseidon, but no one knew him.

that was 1867, but why should it matter

the tridents flew into men’s heads

the son of Cronus and Rhea was on a war path

tale has it that the fishermen’s bodies were bloodless

and are buried on the floor of Lake Victoria

right at Poseidon’s shrine.

o, Poseidon,

what irked you so much that year?

was it your brother Zeus or Athena, the goddess of war?

but why, Poseidon, the god of earthquakes, did you spread

your wrath to these remotest parts, and to lakes, to boot?

Penelope

In the unbridled passions

that intoxicate hearts of men

amid many ungirded loins, discreet adultery

still, an inspiring epic is still woven

Of souls, led not by flesh,

Waiting upon the spark that will

Light up the long-held embers of love

Laurel of Apollo

Link

Sweet Daphne, such a still love

Unshaken by the tempests of our times

Others might see it as unfortunate

As for me, Apollo, your bark and roots

Remain ever sensual and loving

Bacchus

Link

Dear Bacchus:

A revolt is stirring up, heretical esophagus

are soiling your name— 

in bars, in parties, in the streets.

I saw a pair of inebriated eyes

Staring at a pavement, hand on bottle

I thought I would let you know, somehow.

Prometheus

Google

O, Poor Titans!

Where did your might escape to?

You had your son, Prometheus,

A wise soul, diametrically different

From your quarrelsome selves

For love unselfish, dear Prometheus

Stole red flower from Jupiter, King of Sky and Earth,

All this trouble for man!

Poor Prometheus had his liver devoured by vultures

Chained to a rock day and night

No greater love was demonstrated as thus.

Riddle

Trapped in the stubble of his beard

Was a zephyr of mystery

Of thoughts that resided within him.

Unfurled within his reach

Were sylphlike convictions

Of men filled with self-doubt.

Ideas, fettered in frail minds,

Walked away to their freedoms

Further delaying the take-off.

So, unshaken, he carved a path

On the rock hardened by naysayers

Bit by bit, piece by piece

Till a towering statue of magnificence

Stood in place.