Why murder Africa?

This is a story to be told when air still flow through our nostrils,
When blood still runs through our veins,
When our feet is still strong enough to carry us,
And when our cries can still reach many nations.

Why murder Africa,
why murder Africa I say,
Why do we veil our evil actions and pretend as if we are protecting her,
Why do we dishonour her image and pretend as if we are safeguarding her integrity,
Why do we bury our face in the bowl of our palms and watch as our actions ruin her legacy.

Or is this not Africa, the land of our forefathers,
The land the whites envied so much and came to steal it all in the name of westernization,
The land which birth and houses thousands of legends and warriors,
A place of  mouth watering cultural and traditional displays,
The aged land with thousands of moonlight tales which had not but solidify the feet of the aboriginals,
The land which celebrates the feminine pride and sings panegyric songs to hail the masculine strength.

Is this not the land?
Or is this not Africa?

Is this not the land which has now become westernization's footstool,
The land which once flow with milk and honey,
The land with heavy farm produce and strong human power,
The land which sustains our ancestors and kept our forefathers,
The land has finally become a slave to her lust.

I write not to the Westerners, I write not to our colonial masters,
I write not to the wolves in sheep's clothing of the Berlin conference in 1882,
I write not to those who came and left our dearest continent naked,
I write not to those who envy our goods and divide our pride among themselves,
But it is to you that I write.

It is to the babies who bite their mothers' nipple while sucking that I write to,
It is to the wickedness which flows in our vein towards the growth of Africa that I write to,
It is to our leaders that I write to,
It is to our ladies who ignores their pride and disgrace womanhood that I write to,
It is to our men who chases after quick wealth and dishonour fatherhood that I write to,
It is to our so-called Democratic leader who satisfy their own belly at the expense of our happiness that I write to.

It is to the shame we call honour at international gathering that I write to,
It is to our non-challant attitude towards the tears of our forefathers that I write to,
I write to Africans who see Africa not as a place of pride that I write to,
To those who devalue her cultural prestige and neglect her traditional heritage ,
To those who stand in the middle of the day to stab her heritage,
And snores in the middle of the night to expose her dignity.

It is to you that I write to,
It is to my dearest Africans that I write to,
Why murder Africa?


Photo credit: sa-news.com

©Caleb bresh.
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