By Shem Onderi
She is growing fast—
Faster than the years would wish her to.
Her body outpaces her age,
Nothing about her remains the same—
Not even the way she walks.
The class teacher defines her by her looks,
By how she speaks.
The village boy admires her changing form.
The school bus driver insists on dropping her last.
The posho mill owner offers her credit.
Classmates bully her.
The church choir trainer compliments her voice.
She eats small portions,
Yet her body responds.
The shopkeeper is eager to hand out freebies—
A takeaway snack,
A loaf of bread,
That glittering trinket on the shelf.
But school girl—
Flirt not.
Do not smile back.
Refuse the gifts.
The givers have intent.
You may end up a mother,
A teen mother.
School will be disrupted,
Your peers will laugh,
Your mother will hang her head,
Your father may call his investment a waste.
Keep it locked.
Your true lover is yet to propose.
That executive job awaits.
Your political dreams are just beginning.
The power within you is still unfolding.
See—
Parliament is debating scholarships for girls like you.
Listen to the future.
Wear your uniform with pride,
It is your path to the office tag.
Delay early admiration—
Real love awaits,
School girl.