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!
