I see her grow,

I see her becoming a woman,

I see her becoming a help,

I see her becoming the kitchen directress.

I see her becoming a mother,

I see her bringing forth more lives,

I see her kneeling at the sight of her husband.

No wonder she was often told,

“ I am preparing you for your husband’s house”.

She is eighteen years,

She is said to be ripe,

For what?


She is said to be ripe for the feel of a man,

She is told to learn what respect means,

As she is no longer a girl,

But a lady.

A woman in her prime!

She is told to respect her husband,

‘You kneel when he calls’

‘You stand centimetres away when he talks’

He is your Lord,

As you need not be told as a woman.

You are betrothed to him

For kitchen duties,

For bedroom duties,

And for children rearing.

Never forget these duties, my daughter.

Your husband is the head of the family,

When he talks you don’t talk,

When he screams,

You don’t scream.

Even, when he yells,

You are never permitted to yell back,

You are the woman, the helpmate.

Your husband is your father,

Don’t forget you build a career if he permits,

Don’t leave his presence, when he gives no order to,

You are made for this my daughter.

You see how I respond to your father,

As a wife,

As a mother,

As a woman,

Do likewise, my daughter!

No misconception my treasure,

You are not a tool of servitude,

You are better than what I might have popped into your conscience,

You are a tool of independence.

You are tool of self-sufficiency,

You are a tool for nation building.

Believe in yourself and stand for yourself.

I love you, my daughter,

I love you, my woman,

I love you the strength of my womb.