Daily she hummed her favourite unknown tune br laboriously she scooped morsels of bean cakes br in skillful similar proportions into the sizzling oil br in the frying pan on a clay hearth emitting smoke br blinking tears she stocked the embers of the fire br to lessen the spirals of blinding thick black smoke br as frightened termites scrambled from the woods br to escaped the inevitable death in the cruel flames br br Ola, the hectic mother of half a dozen stunted kids br sold delicious bean cakes to all hungry passersby br to put meager food on the table for her large family br while her lazy husband roamed the street scouting br for inexistent menial jobs scanty enough for a gulp br br tired nights drawn her protests in wet muffled cries br to fight powerlessly against her husbands insistence br for a piece of pinkish plunge add more hungry mouths br her cries, pleas fell on deaf ears until she took in again br but this time around she wasn’t that lucky to wean kid br on the long way to the midwifery she died with a sigh br br man’s inhumanity to man starts from the nuclei home br when brutes with ill animalistic tendencies dominate br wallow in the stupid aphorisms of “it’s a man’s world” br but what cruel world is that so insensitive to changes br which is the only permanent phenomenon in lifetimes br that wreaked so much pains and sorrows to women br and bring death to women that brought them to life? br if humans are driven by physical appetites rather than br spiritual needs then let Father’s Day be scrapped br and extol instead Birth Dead Mother’s Day to mourn br the dearth of compassion in compunction of mortality.