With no home and no one to call my people
I’m all left with myself as a father
Who am I? I question the word,
To my surprise they all burst into laughter
This worries me, it also worries my soul
Am I human? I wonder,
Why me I shout out loud!
They all reply quickly “a bastard”
Tears stream from my eyes.
Under a mango tree, my grandmother narrates a tale
This tale, a story of my birth!
Not pleasant to hear, but necessary to be told
Because I must know! Know who I am.
A poor boy born to a girl in her teens
My mother couldn’t make it from my birth bed.
She breathed her last there without saying a word.
A word of where I belonged, or who he was “my father”
The world laughs at me, humiliates me
All because I was born out of wedlock
Everyone despises me, they say a bad omen I am
My uncles hate me, never allow me near their kids
Alone I wander the forests, mountains and valleys
In search of peace and healing
I haven’t found anything
Even a small slice of hope, nothing to count on
Was it my fault, was it her fault “my mother”
No one to answer as the world is deaf to me
I need a life, I need a home, I need a family
I am my family, my home and my hope
I am my everything
That’s my tale, a tale of me and some in the world
That’s a bastard’s tale
An illegitimate child