their bodies are a battle ground

we hear a woman’s raped every
30 minutes this fact needs to be
adjusted as 56 & more
many more were assaulted
inside the first 2 days of
premeditated brutality
of the elephants’ skirmish

their bodies are the frontline
where foes are belittled
& age-old grudges viciously settled

meanwhile rallies sermonise
peacemakers negotiate &
dealmakers mediate
they play the blame game who instigated
what who killed whom excuse me while
i spit & yet do not speak
of the trauma & the terror
& shun the soundless screams of
untold others who in mute silence suffer
they talk about democracy
about ethnocracy autocracy
& just about any cracy you can think of
malevolence shrouded in words
while powerless women little girls
boys & men are abused what
do they know about sacrilege how much
do they care about the shame & humiliation?
how many little girls did you rape today baba?
we know bodies may be healed but
spirit bruises soul lacerations are
indelible quotidian &
never ever leave your side

their bodies are a battlefield
whose destruction’s a conscious
act of ethnic cleansing

in some place we hear
the price for one rape is a goat how
many goats for gang rapes or
for sodomised little boys
we know this isn’t about gratification
nor passion & we are aware of the imperative
revenge domination control
opportunism thuggery it
really doesn’t really matter as the
sacrifice’s been made
the earth’s tasted their blood
their tears soak the ground
mission accomplished
they ask what they should do
as they pray for divine reckoning &
vengeance of cosmic magnitude
they live in constant sorrow & in dread of the hatred spewing
men with rungus for fists & serrated panga eyes
do they not feel pain when you
hurt them do they not bleed when you defile them?

their bodies are a battle ground
their violation
a weapon of war their
bodies are a combat zone
their degradation a
weapon of mass destruction

baba = father
rungus = clubs
panga = machete

First published in Pambazuka

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