Wasn’t much of a talker, only loved to watch; preferred looking, observing, experiencing things. Being there when it happened, being the hand that ignored the scratch. Until that moment when what was seen was grave. Mwila watched her mother, a strong woman of immense African beauty but very little modern education, pushed below, further and under. Go through men just to be taken care of. Every few months was a man in her life, broken and twisted. A man promising the world but then crushing that same world after finding out Mwila existed. Never said it was because of her, but it was known. Both knew, yet neither admitted. A truth neither tried to own. It wasn’t a coincidence that the next few men weren’t told she had kids. Mwila watched her fall into that stereotypical trap that a woman cannot do without a man. Painstakingly pitiful; more disgusting than a cow’s fresh crap- Mwila watched her sister the same way, – a beautiful, intelligent, outspoken, and creative woman, fall into the same hole almost every 20 something year old woman in Vera Town seemingly fell into; abandoned all ideas and dreams in order to please another human. To marry the first guy that asked. Mentally the clock had been ticking, options restricted. Thus ended up marrying the most backward and ambition-averse man. Mwila watched her being tamed, limited and prohibited. Watched his overprotective hands roughly grab the necks of her ambition and freedom and choke life out of them, prune out every progressive seed. Here was the kind of man that this world’s woman didn’t require, a man that her sister didn’t need; the misguided macho man, insecure man. Disgusted Mwila looked away, but then got to watch her elder brother fall into a trap of his own.; watched as he succumbed to the pressure of being the only single man among his peers. What a coward, feared being alone so pretty much the first girl that went down on him was enough for him to want to marry. Changed and never had time for anyone but her, only she to spoil. Mwila watched her young brother whine and cry about their father Several years after his flesh would not even feed the laziest of ants in that soil. When nobody remembered. Mwila watched him slowly become a waste of a man, a very smart drunk. It was not only disgusting but repulsive too, she looked away and cried.
(My Intellect’s Loud And Noisy-MILAN)