The Joys of Mother Africa

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Mother Africa, beloved mother 
How glorious in bloom you lie, 
Beaming in the early morning dew. 
Silent, peaceful, enduring, content. 
Though some have named you dark, 
Ever brightly your dark skin glows! 
To others exotic, distant, remote. 
Yet to us, there is no place more home 
Many have called you wild and untamed. 
Yet none is more accommodating.  
Quietly you birthed and nurtured a humanity  
That turns round to call you ‘discovered’.  
Ever your charm, grandeur and enigma.  
Are these the joys of your motherhood? 




From the chalky desert of Egypt, so ancient,  
To the frozen peak of Kilimanjaro, so majestic.  
From the simmering Nyiragongo, so feisty,   
To the Devil’s pool of stupendous Victoria 
Rightly did the enchanted Livingstone speak; 
You "must have been gazed upon by angels in their flight". 
From the colourful salts of the Danakil, 
To the Table mountains of Cape Good Hope. 
The vast plains, moors and fertile valleys 
where countless singing and sighing rivers run, 
How stately you lie; rich, dignified, home.  
Giving life and sustenance to all.  
The trees and twines in the vast forests  
Celebrate you in ecstatic embrace,  
The lion roars with your strength, 
The rhino charges with your passion, 
The gazelle and the zebra flaunt your beauty, 
Yet even they do not begin to define you! 


Oh the joys of mama Africa, 
Cradle of life and civilization. 
Adorable mother of a people 
So diverse, so proud, so bold, so brave. 
The stock and the scion both of all humanity. 
Yet long crouching in the blinding darkness 
Pressed down by fear and ignorance 
Doomed to depravity and avarice 
Amassing excuses to safeguard our failings 
Ever confusing the objectives with the methods 
Leaving our story to be told by the hunters 
Bogged down by vulgar generalizations 
Scathing labels, and thoughtless categorizations 
By those who know little, see little, hear little 
And understand little of you. 
Trampled, exploited, raped, and left bleeding
By those who should know and love you. 
Yet ever radiant with defiant joy,
Beaming each morn, noon, and evening. 



Beloved mother Africa 
Let me roll away the stone that hit you 
And kiss away the blood on your face 
Here, let me wash your blistered feet 
And dress your bleeding wounds 
My coarse hand may not heal your soul 
But at least, a brief reprieve 
Must be welcome even to you 
Long sufferer, indomitable seed, 
If ever a mother has birthed, it's you! 
Could these be the joys of your motherhood? 


September 2019

Sandema



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