Africa

The land of my forebears

The place where my placenta rests

The lands upon which warrior bloods flow

I desire to speak of her achievements

And I stand to ponder

What can I speak about?

This causes me to wonder

Do I speak of achievements?

Do I speak of failures?

Do I speak of the past?

Or do I speak of a future?

Oh I’ll speak of her future

A future so bright

So full of hopes

That East and West clings to its glamours

Yet, she is bleakened

Darkened and exposed at her core

With the many beguilements that plague her

Deceptive promises

And the shortfalls of wily leaderships

Beguiled with shortsightedness

And selfishness

With corruptions

And insecurities

And pessimistic views that seem justified

She appears cursed

Like a child whose choices mock his own potential

And like a woman

Given to pain in the very act that brings her joy

Is the African cursed?

The very things that bless her beguile her?

A mother to great civilisations

Of the plains near the great nile, Egypt,

Of the plains of the vast Sahel, Nubia,

Of the forests, Monomotapan dynasties

Yet, has she fallen to corruption?

Friends no longer friends?

Where are the ideals that moved those who went before us?

The ideas of Nkrumah

Convictions that moved the Madiba

Determinations that strengthened the Sankaras

These shredded off the chains of imperialism

Where are their remains?

Where are the offshoots?

There is a clamouring darkness

Calling for lights

High intensities

Fierce and able to set new courses

I look forward

Hope beams me up

Arise compatriots!

Be strong!

A great light beams up hope ahead

For this dent of corruptions appear only as a chink

A chink into the armour that girds our hopes

Because I see upon the horizon

A generation that makes the difference

We are the offshoots you asked for

The remains of ideals

Planted by Nkrumah

Watered by General Sankara and the Great Lumumba

And tended by the nourishing wisdoms of the Madiba

God bless Africa!