I shall not kill my father

My father says I'm not a real man,
That despite the bushy beard covering my mouth,
I'm still a toddler,
He says it breaks his heart,
He says toddlers play with dolls,
My father calls my girlfriends 'dolls''.

My father says I need to grow bigger balls,
Balls big enough to seduce a real woman,
Not ''dolls'' with no life of their own,
Not ''dolls'' with long colored nails wearing horse tails,
My father calls my girlfriend's hair ''horse tail''
He says it breaks his heart watching ''dolls'' coming inside his compound.

My father says I'm not a real Luo man,
He says I need to stop wearing ear studs,
He says I need to stop ''frying'' my hair,
That a real man does not spray perfume,
He says it breaks his heart,
Seeing me sagging my pants,
And hanging shiny chains on my neck,
He says white people have managed to take my soul,
My father thinks I have sold my soul to white people,
That I'm running away from my African roots,
''No matter how fast and far a tortoise runs, it can never run away from its shell,'' he warns!

My father says I'm driving him to an early grave,
That I bring home ''dolls'' with painted lips and thin slender legs,
''Dolls'' with tiny breasts and tattooed skin pierced with pins,
My father says my ''dolls'' cannot make a real wife,
That a real wife knows how to cross her legs when sitting in front of visitors!

My father is mourning the loss of his son,
A son lost in alcohol, prostitution and 'dolls'',
The veins holding his heart together break when he sees my ''doll'' sitting in front of the television the whole day,
With earphones plucked in her ears loaded with a thousand earrings, waiting for my mother to cook!
That these ''dolls'' cannot even slaughter a chicken is a misery!
That these ''dolls'' cannot uproot a cassava is an abomination!
''We kelona dolly ma onyuol to opon Nairobi, Bi imany nyar dendi moro e gweng kae ikend,'' he thunders,
That I should stop bringing these girls born and raised in Nairobi,
I should go and marry a girl from the village!

I shall not kill my father,
Tomorrow at around noon,
When he has filled his wrinkled stomach with thick sour porridge,
I shall surprise him with my new woman,
A woman whose breasts are bigger than my head,
Her muscular legs are stronger than a bull's,
A real African woman who knows how to milk a cow,
She who can bear me sixteen children,
Not ''dolls'' who cannot even carry a single pregnancy to term!

(image credits: etsy.com)