Here Is A Gertrude Sneeze Number 10 Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

'See how many times I have broken
This wooden spoon on a person's
Head? ' My Aunt Gertrude's tongue
is at it again. If speaks and goes in and
Out of her mouth in a false licking
That circles her whole mouth, with bile.
Goes back in and her eyes look at the
Wooden spoon that Uncle Bob made when
it was my cousins wedding. For every
Man contributes a traditional utensil
When there is a wedding among the
Members of the clan. Strong, long handled
And as big is my aunt's foot the wooden
Spoon. She holdsit and it looms higher then her
Head scarf right now that it has become
A weapon. Much better than the stick
My brother gave my mother at the last
Battle of the titans. I stand amazed
As usual as I look at these arch rivals
Whose eyes look at the hoisted spoon. 'One, two
And you will be the third and know this, they
Were male including your husband. I hit them.'

I had heard the story many times when my father
Was talking to my mother about my aunt, and
Her experiments at disciplining them as younger
Siblings. I had laughed as he told us how
Our grandmother had stood between them telling
My aunt to stop what she was doing and stir
The stew and stop stirring chaos and pouring
It on the boys. My father told us how she had
broken the spoon on Uncle Thomas also for
His refusal to grind millet on the grinding
Stone, and then tipping a piece of wood and
Overturning the pot, thus spilling
All the contents of her hard work
On the ground.


Now I stood looking at this spoon she held.
Once it had stirred the meat in the big
Pots that lay turned upside down in our
Big kitchen. Now that my aunt has gone
In and told the ancestors it shall be
A weapon wiggled by women at each other,
I start to wonder why wars were always said
To be fought by men. For the ones of the
Daughters of the clan cause as much laughter
As those of the sons of the clan, if not
more so.

'Hey you, who said you must come and raise
A wooden spoon here. Look, I held a spear in
This home and it told me that you would go
To other homes and hold that weapon there.
Now that you have chosen to stir stews in
The air amidst a broadcast of ancestral nonsense
From the radio station whose antennae is your
Crooked head blast on, but be sure I do
not get near you. I am ready to do what
An in-law-has never done in this home. I
Am no longer a new comer but a woman seasoned
With the savory sauces that you mix daily
In your daily songs of wrath that you have
Poured on my head. In short, I mean I am
As ready for you as you are and also very
Much so even though I have no weapon on my hands.

The force that my mother uses in pushing her
Words out of her mouth is enough to blow the wind
And force it to have my aunt receding one step
At a time. She trips on a wheelbarrow that lays
In the yard and almost falls and then turns
And walks away.

Always I feel the relief as the queens of wrath
Make distance between each other, and now forthe other
One decided the words are enough for today.
There is no love lost between these two and now
That she is gone my mother starts telling
The food she is stirring that my aunt had
Better bring back that spoon because it is
A symbol of luck shared by one generation
With another. This wiggling of it by her
Honorable is a sure sign to cause bad luck
To the marriage of the couple that it was
Made for.

I know next time, if ever I marry I want to
Hide all the symbolic gifts if my aunt is still
Going on with these fights, that take place
Between the two women I love so much.

I am torn as always for my aunt it my
God mother because of the position she
Holds as the first born who must bless
Every action I take. My mother is also
My love for she is the best things that
Ever happened to our family. No mother no
Family for my father is a very level headed
Man.

Cry with me when the wars come and rest on
The top of my head, and I cannot do anything.
I always pray for fear to get a hold of one
Of these and then hope time will save the situation
Till they come face to face again.

I am praying that they grow up and find out
That all this acting up does not make life
Better. It saps energy and then fuels us
Up with confusion and anxiety and then we
Go back to normal wondering what is next.

I go to sleep today with my mind trying
To live a life where the two have their
Hands intertwined in love even if it is
In my dreams. I always wonder when I fall
Asleep what would have happened if they
Were co-wives and fought over legitimate
Inequalities that are done by a husband
Between wives. My grandmother saved us
By getting the family to live knowing that
Hail Marys said with rosaries go before
Anything else a young person can do with
A young man. For this we thank her and wish
She had worked more sense into the minds of
The clan before she left for the other world.