FROM SLAVES TO THEIR MASTER
“With much respect to you Vicar, the only woman who understands us. But. . .”
You dare call yourselves men of God,
and yet spit on humanity?
Spilling the blood you can’t afford,
using the church to hide insanity,
Do you consider yourselves God,
or just angels of calamity?
I’m surprised you never get bored,
of abusing Christianity.
Why did you bring us to this place,
so far from our native land,
Where we walk by a given pace,
and can’t sit without a command,
Take us back home to our birthplace,
so our warriors can freely stand,
Can we even build up a case?
Are we doomed to die in this land?
Take us back to Tanzania,
the land where waters are not shallow,
We keep growing thin over here,
far from our roots, our souls feel shallow,
Walking naked without a spear,
a sword, shield, or our sharp arrows,
Broken and torn just in a few years,
surely our future is narrow.
We miss lake Nyasa and its fish,
mount Meru and Kilimanjaro,
A land where you get what you wish,
and play drums, not Christmas carols,
Always having meat in our dish,
and for dessert cow’s bone marrow,
Tasting only drinks that we squish,
never to buy it in barrels.
The water is clear over there,
and the air is fresher than here,
The heat that anyone can bear,
and steady rains that bring us cheer,
Lions and rhinos chasing bears,
and surplus meat from cows and deer,
Trees every where taken with care,
living a life far from ghost fears.
Our daughters are well respected,
and our sons are not neglected,
Our elders are not rejected,
and their views are never ejected,
Our chiefs are never elected,
and our families never suspected,
In trouble always collected,
always remaining connected.
We adore our wonderful culture,
and our language Kiswahili,
Given life by agriculture,
eating good food free from chili,
A nature that women nurture,
and makeup that’s made from lilies,
While the dead are given to vultures,
those alive enjoy life really.
“Kumbuka haya Mondala,
with a song from the cabin,
mateso ya fimbonyala, is more than you can imagine,
bila viatu au ndala, a towel or a napkin,
masaa matatu kulala, before the dogs start barking,
treated like a gorilla, what a life it has been,
Black Diamond you are and freedom is your calling.”
