Photo by Nikoli Afina on Unsplash Poetry Not your spice girl 6th May 2020 | by Maz Halima | @mazhalima | Share this article: I am more than spices, mango in the summer, cinnamon in the winter, cardamom to feel good, cloves for a cold There is so much more to my heritage than magic ingredients More than the saffron, the cumin, turmeric that would stain my fingers if only I were a woman who was at home in the kitchen My humanity runs far deeper than spices and chai I’m a product of a prisoner of war Parents who slept in ditches as bombs rained from the sky We entertain our co-workers in the pubs one night and place our heads on the prayer mat the next We abbreviate our names for the sake of others Split identity depending on the place We bend, adapt, we know how to survive From Lahore to London we became resilience personified We are more than our commodities Share this article:
Not your spice girl
I am more than spices, mango in the summer, cinnamon in the winter, cardamom to feel good, cloves for a cold
There is so much more to my heritage than magic ingredients
More than the saffron, the cumin, turmeric that would stain my fingers if only I were a woman who was at home in the kitchen
My humanity runs far deeper than spices and chai
I’m a product of a prisoner of war
Parents who slept in ditches as bombs rained from the sky
We entertain our co-workers in the pubs one night and place our heads on the prayer mat the next
We abbreviate our names for the sake of others
Split identity depending on the place
We bend, adapt, we know how to survive
From Lahore to London we became resilience personified
We are more than our commodities
Maz Halima
A freelance writer, media researcher and general mad woman. Catch me running around in London City. Read more at mazhalima.com.