My mother named me Ruwarashe - God’s flower
“You’re the prettiest one in His garden my angel” she would say
But if you asked me how long it’s been since I’ve felt like a flower
I’d find it difficult to respond
I am a female prisoner in Zimbabwe you see
An un-convicted convict in actuality
Years have gone by since my arrest
And I am still awaiting trial like many of the rest
To some, we are the lowest of the low
Like the lumps in the porridge they give us
Like cattle in storage- that’s how they keep us
Not worthy of rights, not worthy of privacy
Not even worthy of a pair of our own underwear
For its only when the month turns scarlet
That they dish out used prison undergarments
So we’d rather push up cotton for sanitary pads
And pray we don’t fall prey to infection
Or at least that maybe this time
They'll give us some medication
But no one cares here
I have been tripped up and kicked down here
Fought back but couldn’t kick, couldn’t scream, couldn’t howl
I have no voice to make a sound
Ruwarashe has been trampled on the ground.
But I am still Ruwarashe, I am still God’s flower
Just as He made me, still I am!
A flower doesn’t stop being a flower just because it’s been trampled
It can still give out its innermost scent, in fact NOW it fully permeates
So if you asked me how long it’s been since I’ve felt like a flower
I’d say I never stopped being one to stop feeling like one!
Sarah Kenyi © 2011
This poem was for and
inspired by a project that my friends from church Lorraine Chitsike and
Christine Mazorodze initiated called Operation Ruwarashe. Lorraine and Christine were moved to
appeal to fellow women to donate various sanitary products in order to
restore value and dignity to imprisoned women in Zimbabwe- women who don't
have access to simple hygiene products such as underwear, sanitary pads, soap,
toothpaste and toothbrushes.
For more information on the project please contact:
operationruwarashe@gmail.com
