The Knock of Liberation

By Mildred Kiconco

I wasn’t there when God was creating a woman, But one thing I’m sure, He made her human,

To lead, to head, to direct and to help, God adorned her with Grace,

That whoever looked at her would say yes. She was placed in a world of men,

Where she bore all their blame,

Confined strictly to the bedroom and kitchen, And greatly considered like children.

She did her work, just like a truck.

Being called a rabbit became men’s habit.

Then it dawned one day, that freedom lay at bay, If she joined the classroom.

She would be no more like a mushroom. To school she flew, like a bird set free.

She had been held down by cultural glue, Now she would move all over the blue. The Knock of liberation was really true, She was to sit on benches with men, In her fingers to hold a pen.

Sitting at home had been the man’s den,

On councils and seminars she would now be, And later sip her cup of tea, and pay her fee.

On panels she sat, no longer the home-made mat. Newspapers she started to read,

And the men became afraid,

They were shocked to hear, what women held dear.

Equality! Rights! Emancipation!