Call Me Mama Africa No More

I am Mama Africa, at least I used to be,
My black skin described the pride I held deep within,
My children soared high in unified diversity,
Day after day I was washed with mighty flowing rivers that fed and clothed my sons,
My sons saw pride in long spear throws and beatiful families,
telling tales by evening fires to the dance of the beat,
it was such a scene.

Now I am naked, even the little dignity that is left of me is borrowed,
My sons have been lured to debts by sweet deals in suits,
They have sold their sons and daughters as slaves to foreigners,
for what?
To get a chance to leave me in tatters as they build fortresses to avoid my gaze,
they have clogged my rivers with foreign toxics that reduce their offspring,
and have allowed themselves to be treated like foreigners in their own lands,
now their sons and daughters are alienating themselves from me.

All I had dreamed of now stares at me in tatters,
I saw pride in my desert sands sitting on oil that once made me soft,
now what is left is fumes that burn up my drops of rains,
A result of promised democracy - masks worn by hungry mouths that feed on oil and peace.
My once heavy dark skies are now painted blue all year round,
my sons and daughters struggle to import fish and water as they eat sun and sand,
Banned to fish from waters they were born to,
Such a pity,
I taught my sons and daughters how to smile,
Now they give them away to those who sell them back,
I am no longer the proud mother they used to call Mama Africa,
I feel I have failed them as a mother because they seek other mothers far and beyond,
I am supposed to be a proud mother, but my children have forsaken me.

Listen to me my son,
Those foreigners have ripped me apart in my silence,
They have left me naked and beat, ashamed of myself,
My son, you have seen what you shouldn't on your mother and daughter alike,
Yet, I have held onto my Africanism,
I once thought my color is what I could hold on to,
But my daughters now sparkle like clouds in the evening glow with foreign smears,
Their hairs resemble horse tails and their lips are replicas of vampire bats,
Yet I have to keep silent as their sharp shoes pierce my once soft skin,
now laid with tarmac that denies my grass the freedom it once owned.

I am Mama Africa no more,
I am a Mother who taught my children to be meek and weak so they would not fight,
But now they bow down to those who pretend to sell them respect,
and blackmail my children into bargaining their own price in the slave market,
I am no longer the Mother of Hope,
Call me Mama Africa no more.

By Rapando

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