Your Tears Still Burn at My Handcuffs by Jack Mapanje

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After that millet beer you brewed, mother

(In case Kadango Mission made something of

Another lake-son for the village to strut

About!); and after that fury with Special

Branch when I was brought home handcuffed –

‘How dare you scatter this peaceful house?

What has my son done? Take me instead, you

Insensitive men!’ you challenged their threat

To imprison you too as you did not ‘stop

Your gibberish!’ – After that constant care

Mother, I expected you to show me the rites

Of homing in of this political prisoner,

Perhaps with ground herbal roots dug by

Your hand and hoe, poured in some clay pot

Of warm water for me to suffuse, perhaps

With your usual wry smile about the herbs

You wish your mother had told you about.

Today, as I invent my own cleansing rites

At this return of another fugitive, without

Even dead roots to lean on, promise to bless

These lit candles I place on your head and

Your feet, accept these bended knees, this

Lone prayer offered among these tall unknown

Graveyard trees, this strange requiem mustered

From the tattered Catholic Choir of Dembo

Village. You gave up too early, mother: two

More months, and I’d have told you the story.

Of some Nchinji upstart who tamed a frog at

Mikuyu Prison, how he gave it liberty to invite

Fellow frogs to its wet niche, dearly feeding

Them insects and things; but how one day,

After demon bruises, his petulant inmate

Threw boiling water at the niche, killing

Frog and visitor. And I hoped you’d gather

Some tale for me too, one better than your

Granddaughter’s about how you told her she

Would not find you on her return from school

That day. But we understand, after so many

Pointless sighs about your son’s expected

Release, after the village ridicule of your

Rebellious breasts and sure fatigue of your

Fragile bones, your own minders, then your

Fear for us when the release did finally come –

You’d propose yet another exile, without you –

We understand you had to go, to leave us space

To move. Though now, among the gentle friends

Of these Jorvik walls, I wonder why I still

Glare at your tears burning at my handcuffs.