Issue 1.1

A woman is not a thing, she is man’s photocopy

Think of youths in water, a girl in danger
The future in darkness but our focus has a maker.
A generation away from slavery yet
Their time and gifts forgotten in camps. 
The mother is crying —
Write to that nation, whisper to the trees
Cold doesn’t stop and thou daughters impregnated.
I swear not to see the day out of shame
Pray we will not be by division framed.

Sustainability of thou daughters
Discouraged and dropping from their lessons.
Blood Day shines as my tears hit the floor.
Age and tradition have killed our talents.
I wonder if age leads love or love leads age?
Oh my daughter can’t plant in the day!
Tell me not to cry, tell me not to moon
Look! the day is filled with blood, look! 
Our daughters are on the floor
Changed and called “a thing”
Easy to cry, hard to listen to, oh that hell!!!

Here comes, is there a thing with a skin like God’s?
But things whisper under the ground in their houses and hearts 
And fear to blow out.
Willing to speak but willing to cry
Yes, til believers and nobles dominate things
Ups! A thing used like things.
But educating a thing is to educate a nation.
If a woman is a thing
Oh nations in hell — no production, no future
A cry from the desert, honour that thing!
Thou say you are human 
But good humans depend on a thing’s presence.

Fighting in my dreams, walking with fear
Thou concluded she is a thing
Oh Queens! From your thrones, evolve
Men! Help us carry the results a thing can solve. 
Peace with fighting ends in hell, but heaven
Is a world of men and women.
Maaan!!! Thou art the first to teach us
That thou daughters don’t live
They breathe, they fight, they think
Aye, which thing is she?
My question desires to know 
Where in nature she can relate.

Tell me not to ask, tell me not to seek
Search and one shall find, how my daughters are things?
Oh animals, raped that thing within a day
No justice for things, where will a thing fit?
Shame on thou humans, generals of hell on Earth,
Claiming your things, administering our bodies
I swear to speak and scream for the day won’t appeal
Blood and shame won’t cover my nation
For a thing has to stand in dark and day.

A thing has to keep quiet for its maker to grow
The day won’t splendour even as my tears reach motherhood.
Run my daughters, from nations in blind crisis
Is anyone listening to that night without day?
Are thou fake humans considering production?
When will a thing be seen for its true nature?
Oops, is that a grave with breathing things?

Run queen! Run daughters! At those fake humans
Be with breath, lance them out
Got creation in one, back to Eden.
No, a thing sustains like a man
And my daughters are more than a stone 
Carrying courage to creation.
Humans are dead without them.
My daughters are humans
Independent and complement of humans
We are all called as human yet —

No victory without a woman!
Hum, shall enjoyment stop because a woman is a human being?
Carry thou answer to that nation —
To educate one woman is a universal victory.
As I speak and work on, the day shall shine
Leading production, a means to harvest
Independent daughters who live through the night.
World in future, human leadership
Oh humanity! Oh men! 
Oh women!

No world without you, no happiness without you
Diligent and victorious women on reign!
Peace in my dreams, light of the day is on
Show my face as my tears stop.
Behold our talents —
A woman is not a thing, a woman is man’s photocopy.
Would a man become a word?
My daughter, not a thing, thou sister, human.

Louise Mwangaza — who loves to go by “Light Louise” — is a 22-year-old writer and musician. More of her work can be found at the Unheard Music Project.