Inside the matron’s office, a few moments later, he listened
bewildered as another hard woman told him a strange story, and an
even longer tale, that had nothing at all to do with his simple and
orderly world, and made no sense whatsoever.
“You say it is not sick?” he asked her confounded.
“It’s perfectly normal,” the Day Matron assured him.
“And it is not bewitched?”
“It’s not witchcraft.”
“Why is it … different?” He asked her.
“Why?” she asked, exasperated. “Because it is different.”
It was a cramped office. Files and empty boxes lay all over the
place. The shelves along the walls were packed with more files and
empty cartons. On one wall were two portraits of two white women,
one old and the other holding a baby. Tomei recognized the
Madonna and Child, but he had never heard of Mother Theresa, nor
ever felt as outnumbered as he did now.
“Where is it from?” he asked the matron. “That is what I want to
know.”
“It’s a type, not a tribe,” she explained. “Very rare, but it happens.”
How come I never heard of it?”
Such things never happened to his clan.
“It’s extremely rare,” she explained, talking slowly and clearly, as to
a child. “A strange but normal thing.”
But, she went on to add, the strangest things were getting
common every day.
“It’s all the pills and things your wives take not to have babies,” she
said to him. “The skin-whitening creams and foreign soaps and
things you make them use to beautify themselves; it’s a wonder
the babies are born with any skin at all.”
“Not my wife,” Tomei informed her.
His wife Grace was a real woman, a traditional woman. She did not
need to change her face to beautify herself for him. In fact, he
would be very angry with her if she changed herself. But that was
not why he was here.
“Men!” They never ceased to amaze her. “It’s not all about you, you
know.”
“Not about me?” he asked startled.
“Not about men,” she laughed. “It is also about us women. We
are not the beasts of burden and baby machines you take us for,
you know. We are people too; people with feelings and needs, just
like you. We need to look good, and to feel good too about our
bodies and ourselves. We’d like to be desired for things other than
our fertility and our industry.
READ ON ...
bewildered as another hard woman told him a strange story, and an
even longer tale, that had nothing at all to do with his simple and
orderly world, and made no sense whatsoever.
“You say it is not sick?” he asked her confounded.
“It’s perfectly normal,” the Day Matron assured him.
“And it is not bewitched?”
“It’s not witchcraft.”
“Why is it … different?” He asked her.
“Why?” she asked, exasperated. “Because it is different.”
It was a cramped office. Files and empty boxes lay all over the
place. The shelves along the walls were packed with more files and
empty cartons. On one wall were two portraits of two white women,
one old and the other holding a baby. Tomei recognized the
Madonna and Child, but he had never heard of Mother Theresa, nor
ever felt as outnumbered as he did now.
“Where is it from?” he asked the matron. “That is what I want to
know.”
“It’s a type, not a tribe,” she explained. “Very rare, but it happens.”
How come I never heard of it?”
Such things never happened to his clan.
“It’s extremely rare,” she explained, talking slowly and clearly, as to
a child. “A strange but normal thing.”
But, she went on to add, the strangest things were getting
common every day.
“It’s all the pills and things your wives take not to have babies,” she
said to him. “The skin-whitening creams and foreign soaps and
things you make them use to beautify themselves; it’s a wonder
the babies are born with any skin at all.”
“Not my wife,” Tomei informed her.
His wife Grace was a real woman, a traditional woman. She did not
need to change her face to beautify herself for him. In fact, he
would be very angry with her if she changed herself. But that was
not why he was here.
“Men!” They never ceased to amaze her. “It’s not all about you, you
know.”
“Not about me?” he asked startled.
“Not about men,” she laughed. “It is also about us women. We
are not the beasts of burden and baby machines you take us for,
you know. We are people too; people with feelings and needs, just
like you. We need to look good, and to feel good too about our
bodies and ourselves. We’d like to be desired for things other than
our fertility and our industry.
READ ON ...
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| THIS SITE |
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| With a lot of humour, the author tells us how the community reacts to this strange baby, and how Tomei seeks the advice of a medicine man, who is not entirely loyal to him. |
| The Boy Gift hm books 2007 ISBN 978-1-84728-471-6 |
| Toma Tomei wants to become chief of his clan. But the father of nine daughters has a chance to achieve his aim only if he has a son. So he has great hopes when his wife gives birth to their tenth child. The next morning he is shown his baby – it’s a boy, but ... |
| The Boy Gift by Meja Mwangi |
| US $ 17.44 |
The Boy Gift
| ONE OUT OF TEN |