Africa, the motherland, my motherland. My roots grow from deep in this land of dust and grass, trees and valleys – all made so beautiful under the African Sun.
If I had the hand of a Picasso I would glue my eyes into the distance, grab a paint brush and create something that your eyes could feast on. But I do not have such a luxury, instead I have these words with which I can prepare a snack for your mind.
It’s past midnight and I have come to sit outside hoping to catch a view of the stars but I find none – I guess there isn’t enough room to shine with the full moon ruling the sky. I Stare at a bright light on the horizon and I know there is somebody beautiful in that home, somebody the world wants to know nothing about in this internationally damned continent that I love.
Oh yes Africa you ugly piece of art, they do not know your beauty, you are far too unique for the simple minded. So many colours to see in Africa, your diverse people and cultures and the wild animals born into your care…how could I ever thank you Mama Africa, you accommodate so many in your humble hut.
Landscapes from the deep rivers to the high-flying mountains, Africa so uncontrollable, offering different talents only to the brave who are willing to try. Dried up old stubborn deserts that have never begged for a drink, fragile wetlands and tall forests to the large grasslands where our King lion reigns. Yes, the rightful King who has battled all his rivals into submission – great glory goes to he who has crowned himself victor in pride.
I breathe in your fresh air, forever shall you remain untamed. It comes as no surprise that the birds love to fly your way as they enjoy the precious view of beautiful dark skin from above. The moon loves this view too and even during the day he can be seen stealing a peep of this masterpiece as he awaits his turn patiently.
Apparently the whole world shares the same sun, but O’ Great light bringer, even you know who you love most. Here in Africa you shine brightest – endless celebrations of summer throughout the year for our son will never forsake his first love. With this love you offer us great protection, the trespassers cannot bear your heat so they rush to get out of the kitchen…yes we are wounded but you did not give them enough comfort to cook up their evil schemes.
Beautiful Africa, one day I will leave my children in your care, teach them the ways of our honey-badger, although he has covered his top with the flag of the snow, he remains grounded to his roots and never turns away from a fight. Show them the peacock as well – just for their pleasure, so they may learn to be proud of their unique beauty.
Beautiful Africa, my motherland, I thank you for offering your ears to hear my cries…remember me with a waterfall of tears that lead to a peaceful paradise where different tribes and beasts will come to drink away their thirst.