We built Kingdoms
We had cities
Our men ruled
We ruled too
Sometimes we ruled on our own
We had drums
There were some special drums
The men carved them
Only the women could beat them
As we beat the drums
We danced
Even when we did not have the drums
We always heard the beat
We heard it in morning as we woke our households
In the afternoon as we went about our tasks
In the evenings as we cooked
On our way to the stream
Our voices were loud and strong
We were heard through savannahs, valleys and forests
We sang to ourselves as we rose at dawn
Competing with the noisy roosters
They disturbed our peace, so it was a little revenge
We sang to our children as we bathed them
We sang as we sat around fires under the moon
We sang to tell stories
We sang to teach
We sang to show off
We knew things
A lot of things
About nature, teaching, trading, farming
hunting, healing, worship, politics, peace
We had libraries
We wrote books
We taught others
We knew how to seek the face of the Gods
We were well versed in the language of our ancestors
We had an abundance of looms
We wove Kente, Aso Oke, Akwete, Kuba, Bogolanfini, Kyekye, Shemma
Every piece of fabric had history and told a story
All the dye we used had a purpose
We were clothed in dignity
We had respect
Our lives were not perfect
Far from it
Yet, it was ours
Then
Our babies were wrenched from our arms
That is if we were lucky
Sometimes they were cut from our stomachs
That meant we did not live to tell the tale
Our men were snatched away
Or went to war and never returned
Or to the farm and vanished
We were taken too
We never saw our men again
Our children could only dwell in our hearts and memories
Our blood was shed
Our bodies were brutalized
Our hands were forced to build empires we could never call our own
Our wombs were used to reproduce what was considered to be livestock
Our breasts were placed in the mouths of babies that were not ours
In spite of all this
Our voices endured
We remembered
We did not forget
We beat drums
We sang
We told stories
We taught
Sometimes in whispers
Loudly, if we could
Centuries went by
Our burdens never ceased
Our pain did not go away
What was ours kept being taken
We taught our daughters to keep on fighting
Just as we had been taught too, so long ago
We knew what had been lost
We knew how far we would have to go
So
Our voices endured
Through battles for liberation
Through marches for freedom
Through struggles for independence
Through the drumbeats of wars within and beyond
Through our music
Through our dances
Through what we cooked
Through what we wove
Through what we wore and how we wore it
We never forgot who we were
We have broken ceilings
Glass, wood, concrete, marble
We don’t care
If it stands in our way
It gets demolished
Our voices have endured
That is how we survived slave masters, tyrants and despots
That is how we have stared down those who think we are less
This is why we keep demanding for seats at tables we helped build
The right to inherit the land we till
The right to give birth and not die in the process
The right to be in school and not on the laps of an ancestor
The right to walk to our markets, farms and schools and not be raped on the way
The right not to be beaten to a coma or even to death because the dinner was late
The right to be full and complete human beings
Sadly
Our babies are still being wrenched from our arms
Sometimes they are still cut from our stomachs
Our men still get snatched away
Or go to war, never to return
Sometimes, the mines or the cities simply gobble them up
Our sons are stolen to service strange wars
Our daughters are carted away ………………………………
We are still taken too
Even then
Our voices have endured
We will keep speaking up
Singing
Teaching
Marching
Demanding
Weaving
And when it is time
We will pass it all on
Our voices have endured
Our voices will endure
Happy African Women’s Day (July 31st)
Bisi Adeleye-Fayemi is a Gender Specialist, Leadership Coach, Policy Advocate and Writer. She is the Founder of Abovewhispers.com, an online community for women. She can be reached at BAF@abovewhispers.com