The boys went to school by the big rock;
Us girls, we couldn’t—that was the rule, we played and talked,
But all of us followed the herd of cattle,
Keeping spears close by in case of a lion or battle,
And around midday we’d take a break
With a jump, dive, splash into the lake.
As a woman I wore cotton, ‘cause there’s no such thing as silk,
And the only meal options being meat and milk.
For dessert? Nothing beats natural honey.
Picking berries barefoot as the days stay sunny.
Sparking a conversation with a village woman
On our way to fetch some water,
Only to find that the river dried out,
And the conversation turns to
“How do I feed my daughter?”
We walked back to the hut with an empty water jug,
Continued our conversation while waiting for the rain to come,
Everyone knows what this means—
It’s the time of drought,
And since the livestock can’t graze
It’s time to move out.
Moving to a world where everywhere
You turn there are bright lights,
There’s a variety of food,
But I still miss the hot days and cool nights.
Which one is shampoo? Which one is conditioner?
Struggling ‘cause I can’t read or write.
From Gurar, Africa to New York, USA,
This land introduces me to people who are so polite
To a Nomad in America,
Makes me feel like everything will be all right.
I wrote this poem through the eyes of my Grandmother, who grew up as a nomad in a village known as Gurar, which is located at the border of Kenya and Ethiopia (3° 22' 0 N and 39° 34' 0 E). The poem starts from when she was a girl, then continues on to her experiences as a woman and then finally concludes to her coming to America as an older woman. I based the poem on the stories my grandmother told me about life in Badiya, which is basically the wilderness of Africa, and also by observing her cope with the changes here in America.