THIS IS NOT MY AFRICA! My Africa Was an Africa of village life, Of tales and forklores Where we tarried long into the night To play catch ups on whose son Wanted whose daughter in marriage On whose farmland was not doing well And what could be done... My Africa was a message of hard work And eventual recompense... Every night, The songs of the nightingale Mingled with our weary bones Sent us asnoring... Only to be awoken by Cockerels Singing another melody of hopeful, eventful Africa My Africa was a story of a brother Watching out for another It was a story of warriors Fighting to defend the heritage And integrity of all, Not this Africa that I now see... This Africa is one beloved, Clutched to, by all Yet, it is one of envy, hatred, Fear and indolence. Village life is a tall dream Sleep is in enmity with this. This Africa is one of busted veins And blood oozing out Like tributaries, Like rivers flowing into rivers And, it is not mine! ...