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Poetry: Prostitution

A MALAYA ?

Yes. She is a night woman
Who cares whether what she does is evil or illegal,
As long as she brings food to the table
And has made her a life many would envy.
Yes; she is a night woman
Yes, I will say it, she is a prostitute;
A Malaya as many here prefer to call her
A word that would send lots of you stammering.

She is my mother; yes she bred me.
She says my father was or is a policeman.


And she does not know where he is now.
And nor does my father know of my existence
And where I am, who I am and how I am.

Yes, my father is a policeman.
My mother stresses it every time, she says it.
She says I was a result of a sentence;
A sentence she served to the policeman to get her freedom back.
The policeman; my father, who arrested her for
As she says he said "breaking the law.
Don't you know prostitution is illegal in Uganda?
You prostitutes spread
Sexually Transmitted Diseases and are evil makers
In our society"

Yes all that was true and happening
My mother told me, she was thus charged
For breaking the law and committing a crime.
The policeman was the prosecutor, the Judge
In the "High Court" of some bed which she called
"The Buganda Bed Court"
There was no defence on her side.
She was charged and found to be guilty.
The sentence she had to serve was;
One night and all its twelve hours
In the Luzira bed prison at a certain Lodge,
After that she would be a free woman again.

She had got her freedom back and
Was on the Parliament Avenue Street again.
Her freedom came with bad news as she called it.
She lost her periods. At least there was no
The law and order man to tell.
She was thus saved the "Go and find them" response

She could not abort as she had done on
Many several other occasions before
Whenever she missed her monthlies;
Whenever she was forced to have live sex
By the unkind night men.

After nine months of toil and no work
Without a father to care for my mother,
Few or no meals at her table
Distress and disillusionment and many curses
On the law and order man.
The man who had indeed kept
Law and order by keeping her off the streets
For a period of some months with a bulky belly,
The day finally came;

And I was lucky to have been born
Born on some cold night in December
I was a bouncing baby boy as
My mother's friend called me when I was earthed down.
Born to suffer and toil like humans do.

Life took its course, grow up I did,
To hear all the harsh life stories, this earth provides,
Provides to the unfortunate, poor and marginalized

My mother is beautiful and really gorgeous
I can see it and confirm it.
Her beauty


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Poetry: Prostitution

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