A Cry to Mother Africa


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Mother Africa !Mama !

If loving you is wrong then l dont want to be right.If it means living away from your arms, then l would rather die. We walked away from you ;brave and hopeful, only to find some drowning in the Mediterranean Sea and my younger sister in the Red Sea. The sand dunes of the Sahara have swallowed some of us ,but l am still alive Mother Africa.l found myself on some platform, numbers rolling out of some foreign mouth ,untill l realised l was being auctioned ,like l had witnessed cows being done at the market place.l received some news that it is no better for my brothers in Europe ,struggling in some camp to do the same trade we did at home,washing some windscreens after chasing some car down the street or hawking.

Mama Africa l pray ,bring me back home but,assure me that l will not die from hunger.l never meant to leave but you forced me to go, when l did not receive the free education you promised my generation.l tried all trades but gave up after the city askaris kept on taking away my daily bread and wares .l finally gave up when the youth funds were stolen and nothing happened after they were exposed.Life continued but at my age l did not know the next step forward but had to leave for “anywhere” .

Mama Africa!What can l do to make you see that l am strong enough for you? What must l do to make you realise l appreciate my skin color although it is perceived as dirty and ugly by those you freely accomodate on your tables and who you have given power to decide my fate?Don’t you love me anymore?is it true what they say that we are only good as sex objects and slaves? My manhood is almost gone .My sisters beauty and joviality diminishes by the day.Mama Africa when are you going to take us back your disgraced children? Allow us to be your prodigal children.Every single part of me has been defiled and my  dignity has been violated but l still say:”if loving you is wrong, l don’t want to be right!”

I forgive you for wrongs done:our stolen youth funds and free educational spaces sold by corrupt officials .l am not here to judge you ,but l am here to plead that no international dialogues should be the measure of my pain.l need Help Now!

Bring me back home so l can breathe the fresh air,listen to the joyous laughter even when we hunger and watch the sunset every evening knowing l am back to where l belong.l want to hug my buddies and say  “Sasa Wazee!”,”Mambo Fiti”because l will be in Motherland.

Do not forget me!

Do not banish me to the cold and hostile world that says l do not belong !That l am not worthy even for the crumbs that fall down from the masters table.

  1. A forgotten Migrant !
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