29.2 C
City of Banjul
Friday, April 19, 2024

Our girl our goal

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I heard her issue a scream

As if from behind a screen

Inside, two people, a girl, face grim

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An old woman with a wide grin

‘You,’ blurted the girl, ‘have hurt me’

I know, it must have stung like a bee

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‘What on earth have you done, old lady?’

‘This girl,’ I thundered, ‘is just a baby!’

‘This,’ she said with shaky hands, ‘is tradition’

This has now been pushed away by education

On the girl’s face tears ran like a stream

It’s clear she must have lost her dream

The old woman had taken her fate

As if she herself had no faith

Is the girl child’s esteem so low?

That we take into our hands the law?

Impose on her what is ‘good?’

Simply because we give her food!

She could have grown up a star

But we give her instead a scar

May never be able to be a member of the bar

Her entire life we mar


Who gave you that right?

To her fate decide

Inflict pain that will abide

Call yourself a guide!

They claim the doer is a surgeon

Then they attribute it to religion

But it’s nothing more than culture of a region

Mutilate not our girl

For she is our ultimate goal!


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