The African Story

Once upon a time
Africa the told untold story
A revealed unrevealed mystery
Africa she is
Even when the obvious says it is her end
She starts unfolding all over again
All new and marvelling terrains
Like, just when you think you have seen her
You will find you have been staring at a mere picture
Only the superficial is captured
Detail is not part of a viewer's pleasure

He was once young and strong
Tall, fine and handsome
Idolised in too many songs
Both abroad and at home
Before the dawn that he woke and found the usual morning fresh breath held something wrong
The looming trouble to come
Like the smell of rotten corps from far off
Brought home by same air that brings birds chirps and scents of wild flowers.
The sun hung lower
And everything tasted sour
There seemed an invincible weight on his shoulder
His bravery began to falter
His youthly strength left his bones
His knees felt like a newly born's
Then the anchor of the floating whale hit her sea shores
Bringing it to a halt on her banks
For details, refer to history textbooks
For
This is neither a history classroom
Nor a history lesson
But this is a poem of the beauty of Africa
A symphony of the grace of Africa
A song of the pride of Africa
A chant of the glory of Africa
An incantation to invoke Africa
A praise for the persistence and perseverance of Africa

Repeatedly you have raped her
Yet a virgin is what you call her
Already used to the mockery
It fell on her thickened skin
Then drops to the ground
Like a snake would glide off a slippery glass
She has survive your whips deprivation
Endured your graves of corruption
Overcame your chains of suppression
Taking a sigh and a deep breath
Leaping beyond the convenient length and breadth
Giving up her sham life and cushioned beds
So to find;
Her sons you abducted to farm your fields;
Her husbands you took to build your homes
Her daughters you stole to furnish your lustful beds
Leaving her in tears and alone
Her heart and soul wandering abroad
Crying for her husbands and weeping for her sons
Aching for her daughters
Worried if you have defiled them and made them mothers of the sons you will never love
All of these brings her grieve
And torments her beautiful evenings
But this is not a mourners' song
Nor a sympathy poem
This is a celebration poem
A liberation song
Roll out the gongs and drums
A new sun is being born
A new day is come
A time for royalties to reclaim the throne
The once stolen crown
Time for new dance and new songs
Songs if victory
Dance of bravery
Chants of recovery
Shouts of home coming
And laughters of a happy ending

Mammah Africa the bravest
Africa the strongest
Africa the mightiest
Time to be the smartest
You came
Saw it all
And survived in spite all
It is time to reclaim your throne
Your once stolen crown
Time for a new dance and new songs
Songs of victory
Dance of bravery
Chants of recovery
Shouts of home coming
Laughters of a happy ending.