NANNY’S LETTER FROM PRISON CELL- by Peter K’ouma

NANNY’S LETTER FROM PRISON CELL- by Peter K’ouma

(Based On the Ugandan Nanny Case File)

 

 

At least I have had a chance

To a scribble today

And I would speak it out

Speak out what you,

Your Honour, did not listen to

To speak out the unheard side

Because a child is innocent unquestionably

And that is the rule of law

Yes, Your Honour

I believe a child is innocent

And I regret my actions on the child

Your Honour

Maybe we were all children in the house

Maybe i am as innocent as the child

Or maybe, you need to be my audience

Your Honour,

My life has not changed largely, even in the cell.

I have only

developed a realization

That i was no different from the master’s caged bird

Under the master’s table.

My master’s bird would not fly away

Because its wings will break down under the cage.

And would only be fed on left-overs

Under the table

In the cage with all its attempts to fly

To free itself.

From the kitchen, i will watch master’s smile

Before bursting into a deafening laughter

And i wondered how people generate pleasure

In others’  agony.

I must have inherited this from my master

Unconsciously over time.

After several attempts,

I woke up one day to find the bird

Mute and lifeless

I watched my master cursing

Why the bird

Had to die before his satisfaction.

When ordered to dispose the little thing,

I wondered if one day

I would be disposed

If I attempted to access freedom

Your Honour

Do you have an idea of

What it means being an orphan,

Childless or a society reject?

Do you know what being homeless

Or with no family is?

Or do you know what happens

To street urchins when it’s raining?

Your Honour

Do you know what it means

Having no one to cry to?

Or someone to console you is about?

Your Honour

Do you know what

Being a caged bird is?

Your Honour,

It means one thing

You become stronger and harder

In the heart

It means becoming immune to giving up

It means being a tick on a cow’s carcass

Since you have nowhere.

Your Honour

You refused to look into the terms

And conditions of my employment

As ananny in my master’s house

Your Honour,

Nowhere in our agreement

Was it indicated that i will only sleep

Past the first cock-crow

And  wake up  before second cock-crow.

It is not stated that i will only eat

In the kitchen or veranda

Your Honour.

Is it indicated that i will do all duties

Including madam’s inner linens?

I was a nanny, Your Honour

Which means help, Your Honour

I was to be an asset to the child

Your Honour

That does not mean my master

Would sneak from his bed

To scoop his pleasure from me

On the kitchen table.

It didn’t mean i would be a second wife

Your Honour

And when madam suspected this, Your Honour,

Nanny became the master’s shirt

To be ironed

Your Honour

My back knows what electric iron box is

And knows what a punching bag feels

My pocked knows not what

An end-month wedge is

Your Honour

I hear you ask why i reported not

Maybe you seem to forget, Your Honour

That I’m an orphan, homeless, no family,

You forget that I am companionless,

Jobless and heartless.

If I walked out of my master’s house,

Would you have sheltered me?

Or clothed me?

Or would you have been Uncle Besige?

Would you have taken me back from the streets?

You Honour

I was and I am frustrated

I am heartless because of master and madam

They are responsible for the inhumanity

That i subjected the little one to

Your Honour,

Your Honour

You should now know

That i wasn’t a nanny,

Or a house-help

Or a maid.

I was a slave

And maybe this prison cell

Is better, Your Honour.