Coconut

You cannot compete with a white man

For a black woman

Who considers color.

She is not a racist

But a thorough chemist

Who compares, calculates, dissects

Every aspect of the two men

And so far, she enjoys the white of the coconut.

 

She goes to swimming pools and parks

To stare at half caste children of other couples.

She looks at the mothers of those children

And frowns, “He would have done better.”

And even when her boyfriend leaves his wallet with her

With the simple instruction “eat whatever you want.”

She only thinks “his trying too hard.”

 

Be it a sunny day,

Rainy day,

She will choose the old hairy white pensioner

Over the eight pack black hunk.

She wants to know what winter feels like

What snow looks like.

 

Be it an earthquake day

Tsunami day

End of the world day

We know her choice too well.

 

Even though she met a broke white guy

She wouldn’t believe his broke

She would simply think his testing her

Pretending to be broke

To detect whether she loves money.

 

I tell you

Even though in her sleep, Jesus sent Angel Gabriel with the instructions of,

“Get up and flee from that man, go west, far left you will meet you future husband

A black man who will love and take care of you.”

She would awake from that dream, shouting

“ Satani nvanko , I cancel that bad dream, Satani Nvaako.”

She’s simply weak that way.

 

So for now her current boyfriend, a black hardworking guy

Will stop asking himself why,

Why doesn’t she appreciate me?

What does she see in white guys?

He will instead do whatever he can to win her completely

He will try every trick

Ask for every advice

He will be the best guy he can be for her

But I know too well, how this poem unfolds

How it ends