The Joys of Mother Africa
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?
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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!
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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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Lovely write up
ReplyDeleteWow I just revised my Geography well articulated.
ReplyDeleteGlad to be of help!
DeleteBeautiful
ReplyDeleteCaptivating. Each word, imagery picturesque. Well written.
ReplyDeleteThanks man! That's touching.
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