FATMA BINTI ATHMAN, TWO SATIRICAL POEMS

Kenya, Kipate/Kiswahili
\Fatme binti Athman has spent most of her life on Pate Island, off the northern coast of Kenya. Her
language, Kipati, is a Kiswahili dialect. She was … in her late sixties in 1989 when she performed
both poems for the Swahili Poetry Video Project team led by Ann Biersteker and Richard Randall.
Fatma binti Athman has been blind since birth and learned these poems, and many others that she
knows, by listening to the performances of others. She does not perform poetry professionally or
publicly.

Both poems are examples of tumbuizo, or commiseration songs. The tumbuizo is considered to be one of
the oldest forms of Swahili poetry, usually performed by women for audiences of women and children in
private settings.
Unlike other Swahili poetic genres, there is no set metrical pattern for tumbuizo, nor a particular rhyme
scheme associated with the genre, although rhyming words often are used. As is the case with other
available examples of tumbuizo, the names of the original composers of these poems are unknown. …
Anne Biersteker

My Husband Went to Pate

My husband went to Pate to harvest oranges; I waited to
welcome him. I waited standing until I fell because of
fatigue.
I waited for him happily until my heart became sad.
I waited and when he entered I told him, ‘I greet you.’
I received him in a cleared space and hung away his bow.
I received his axe and hoe and I put them behind
the door. I removed his head covering and put it
in front of the door.
I took him to the bathroom and washed off his dust and dirt.
I rubbed him with oil and water; I shaved him where necessary.
I removed his farming clothes and dressed him in his
finest garments. I made him drink lots of water to clear his
stomach.
And at night we lay down together and he told me deceitful tales.
He told me, ‘Dear, I’ll never marry another and will not do
anything to hurt you. In the morning I will go to the workshop and
make ornaments for you.
I will make clasps, beaded and chain necklaces to circle your neck.
I will make ankle rattles for you and ear plugs and bracelets to remove
your fatigue.’ In the morning I went to the kitchen and heard the
sounds of celebration.
I asked, ‘What’s going on in this town?’ I was told, ‘Your husband
has gone off. He has married a young girl and the dowry is the sum
of your efforts.
He has married a virgin today and her mother can do
nothing but say, “Give me the fruit on the mkungu tree.
Its rind should be used to rub his spine.
You should rub him on both sides but especially on his
back bone.”’ Then I smashed the pots and pans on to the
ground.
I threw myself down, then stood and broke the small and
large beds And I cut the bed caning; then I left the house.
Transcribed by Ibrahim Noor
Shariff Translated by
Ann Biersteker
The Daughter, the Mother, and the Husband
Mother:
Day and night his behavior grows more
grievous; As a disgraceful husband he
has no equal.
Daughter:
There’s no one like him; he has
no rival. He has passed beyond
all limits.
He brings nothing but hostility when he enters
our house. When he comes inside, he exudes
nothing but hostility. His screams and shouts
torment me.
Even the walls and doors all
tremble. Even the walls and doors
shake with fear. Everything
trembles when he enters.
He brings war all day and I am afraid
to speak. I am silent and fear to speak.
I am silent when he enters
shouting With derision and
hostility.
I have no chance to rest – none.
Never do I have a chance to rest,
not once. Mother, you should not
see me thus.
I am drained by his hostility.
If I were plump and jolly it would be
surprising, It would be surprising [if] I
were plump and jolly.
Mother:
What is surprising is why you have not forced
him to leave. He did not build your home.
You must respond to him.
Why have you kept him in your house?
You must respond to him. Why have you kept him in
your house? Why have you kept him in your house?
You must speak.
Daughter:
He says: ‘You will not depart until I
bury you. What you want is a divorce.
What you want is for me to divorce
you – That is what you want – I
buried your mother And you have no
father.’
There is no one he does not
curse. But no one curses
him.
 Who is there he does not
curse? Who dares to curse
him?
It’s best I be killed so I may die and
rest. Being married to him, what
happiness is this?
What happiness is this? To be married
to him? He says: ‘What happiness is
this?
All right, I’ll kill you so you may die
and rest. On my part should I cry –
whose loss is it? Whose loss is it?
Should I cry?’
Mother:
Whose loss is it? Your friends
would Respect you for
responding.
Even if he is a Sharif, why have you kept him in your house?
 Why have you kept him, even if he is
a Sharif? Why have you kept him?
Do you keep a dog if it
torments you? If it’s his house,
go to the coast.
Go to the coast, if it’s his
house. If it’s his house,
then
That which is written must be.
To be married to him, I would have rejected it,
my dear. I would have rejected it, my dear.
The marriage was ordered by your
father. He commanded that you
marry this man. You wanted to
stay cooking at home.
Cooking at home was where you wanted to stay.
Daughter:
I wanted to stay cooking at
home But I was forced into
this marriage.
I know he is not a husband. Why did I
not refuse? Why did I not refuse? I know
he is not a husband. Why did I not refuse
and stay at home with you?
Mother:
Your dilemma is sorrowful,
And that father of yours, why is he
silent? Why is he silent, that father
of yours?
Why is he silent, my
child? And if I look
after you,
What will others say about your pain?
Daughter:
Why do they speak, saying I’ve
become thin? I’ve become thin as a
dried fish.
My friends say: ‘You are nauseous,
my friend; You are nauseous, my
friend.
I think you are
pregnant. You are
nauseous.’
I did not become
pregnant. My husband
torments me.
Daughter and Mother together:
They say, ‘Shhh – don’t be like
that dog. Don’t relive her story.
Shhh – don’t be like that
dog. Don’t relive her story;
be careful.’ Truly there are
no husbands.
Truly there are no husbands.
I said I did not become
pregnant. I am tormented.
They say, ‘Shhh – Don’t be like
that dog. Don’t relive her story.
Look at her
carefully.’ Husbands
there are none.
‘Don’t relive the story of her
mother. She who desires;
She who desires; don’t relive her
mother’s story. Those who are troubled
are like elders.
To be married to them, what happiness is
there for me? What happiness is there for
me to be married to them? What
happiness is there for me to be married to
any man? What does it bring me?
Even did I desire
another to enter,
Were another to
enter my desire, For
another to enter I
could be
Beyond this evil, and you
would not have Even a
water jug and a cloth to
carry it – They would be
stolen from your head.
Transcribed and translated by Ann Biersteker
and Salma Hussein