Hassana Maina

I will remember to teach my children my name

To make sure they feel the weight of it

Watch their little tongues swirl as they pronounce

Not Umma or Mummy

But my name

So, when I get erased by surname

And lineage

When history is not kind to me

And my heritage erased with one question

‘Where are you from?’

They will remember their mama’s name

My existence will not be reduced to the softness of my back

The warmth of my arms

The smile in my eyes as howls escape through my lips

I will not only be found through stories of sacrifice and pain

Of undiluted adoration and sainthood

It will be said that through my name

I lived!