Back straighter than a flagpole,

gait steadier than an anthem;

kilos of kindling top her head,

a jerry can in a hand,

Mama carries a machete in the other.

She carries a baby on her back.

Mama carries the future on her back.

She carries her country, men.


If Mama were to tire (don’t worry, she won’t),

if she needs to take a rest (don’t worry, she doesn’t),

would you carry Mama for a time?

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