Mother of jobs
Text by Gina Furqan“I was there.”
my mother said to me
pointing at the picture
the picture I chose to bring to show-and-tell
the picture of father and his comrades
the one of them waving their flags
the one that captured men marching
for our freedom from the dictatorship regime
they fought to protect our democracy
only I couldn’t see where my mother stood
“Where?”
I asked her
“There.”
she said
and pointed
“But that’s father.”
I was confused
“Look.”
she said
“Notice how your father's shirt is crisp and neat?
I ironed his shirt perfectly that day.”
she said
then I saw her hands
carefully pressing a hot iron on the shirt on father’s back
ironing every wrinkle flat on every crease
“I was there.”
she said
and pointed at father’s stomach
“I was the one who made his lunch
which I wrapped in banana leaves.”
then I saw her in the kitchen
cooking white rice and fried chicken
which was inside his full belly
“I was here,”
she said and gestured to our home
“so that he could be out there
which means I was also there
you just can’t see it at first glance.”
Artist Statement I’m Ghina Furqan and I write words to build remarkable worlds. My poem portrays the labour done behind the scenes of demonstrations led predominantly by men through an imagined conversation between a child and their mother.
my mother said to me
pointing at the picture
the picture I chose to bring to show-and-tell
the picture of father and his comrades
the one of them waving their flags
the one that captured men marching
for our freedom from the dictatorship regime
they fought to protect our democracy
only I couldn’t see where my mother stood
“Where?”
I asked her
“There.”
she said
and pointed
“But that’s father.”
I was confused
“Look.”
she said
“Notice how your father's shirt is crisp and neat?
I ironed his shirt perfectly that day.”
she said
then I saw her hands
carefully pressing a hot iron on the shirt on father’s back
ironing every wrinkle flat on every crease
“I was there.”
she said
and pointed at father’s stomach
“I was the one who made his lunch
which I wrapped in banana leaves.”
then I saw her in the kitchen
cooking white rice and fried chicken
which was inside his full belly
“I was here,”
she said and gestured to our home
“so that he could be out there
which means I was also there
you just can’t see it at first glance.”
Artist Statement I’m Ghina Furqan and I write words to build remarkable worlds. My poem portrays the labour done behind the scenes of demonstrations led predominantly by men through an imagined conversation between a child and their mother.