~~~~My Kenyan pen-pal, Mercy, sends me her writings and
journals. She is now a journalist in Nairobi. I believe God has Great plans for her
future. Anyhow, here is one of her stories. I love her words profusely and entirely. Especially stories about women’s issues. Thanks,
dear. I love you more than 13 Bengal tigers sunbathing in the gold and sapphire of
–Mercy was put through journalism school by my good friend Deb S. I loOove both of you!
Journal Entry 2012—
-I am doing a science story. I get to her flat at about 10:00 AM
She is in her study writing stuff in her notebooks. She is a top scientist in East
Africa. The most slippery
source a journalist can chase.
She sips tea and adjusts her glasses staring at me. I am intimidated.
On the wall of her study is the biggest painting of a vagina
I’ve ever seen.
It is blown up, stretching across the wall & dominating
the white canvas.
I am drawn to it, obsessed with it.
But I try to avoid gawking at it.
She looks at me. Grins.
“It is Mine.” She says. “The vagina is Mine.”
I cast another glance.
“Yes, the vagina is a beautiful organ. It is us who brutalize it, cut it, stitch
it.” She frowns. “We Africans are corrupt.”
I am writing in my notebook as she speaks. Staring at my black shoes.
After I leave, I am still thinking about that vagina on her
Now, when I see her on the news, I smile and think: “WOW, perhaps she is courageous and powerful
to have that giant vagina on the wall…or perhaps, she’s just simply crazy.
Dear, Reader, what would your thoughts be if you walked into one’s home and there was a Giant Vagina on the wall?