YOUR ROLE, YOUR PLATFORM, YOUR LIFE FOR THE TAKING

I’ve been one to behave beneath myself in the past, as a black woman it saddens me to see other black women still doing so. I see black women barely wearing clothes and changing men like the do their knickers. I’m sure its feasible in a club, but I pity women who chose to live a lifestyle of the imaginary and have empty social lives.

I meet young black men who believe their lives are better in the hands of the street than they are in an educational institution.

I just want to remind us all of where we came from, we as a black people have endured much in terms of history, we are a lineage of Africans who lost out due to slavery. At one time in history we did not have a choice, we did not have the opportunity, we did not have the privilege to do the things and be the people we can be today.

I just want to remind the young people that before they venture out to another day of deliberate destitution that your time is NOW. You NOW have the choice to be the respectable people you deserve to be. For some of you who even have the opportunities to educate yourselves free of charge or under the expense of someone else I urge you to take it, own it because this may be the only chance you ever have.

Let us remember and honour our ancestors and let them truly rest in peace by knowing that their: toil, hopelessness, struggles, beatings, slaughtered dreams and all the injustices that they went through were not in vain because young black people today appreciate and acknowledge and honour their opportunities and responsibilities.

Claim it. Claim your role as that emancipated and empowered young black person that you are today.

DRUM

THE FIRST ARCHIVES- a poetic journey into and through adolescence

DRUM

Hairless and bald, revealing more brown skin.

Afro-licious- statcic hairs stand alive.

Neatly braided heads never go unnoticed.

Short, small. Big , tall.

From size to size, One to all.

From the richest ebony to the darkest night,

From copper coins to golden grains we yield,

From the deepest black to the lightest brown.

The Masia warrior who hunts the lion, while his eldest rears the oxen.

The strict teacher, who whips as punishment.

The Christian priest who lives by the Bible.

The “Bibi” who thanks the lord for every blessing, while her neighbours devour the “gongo” , much awaited since the last harvest.
The hard working farmer, that wakes at dawn.

The orphan who takes up the title of prostitute.

The common mosquito biting pick pocket who leaves the victim itching at his loss.

The vegetarian “Rasta” avoiding the drug abused “Rasta” who wears dishevelled locks and reddened eyes.

“Kibalakashe” on head “kanzu” ironed ready for prayer.

A stranger startled, by the strike of HIV.

A whimpering child, raped and abused. Surviving.

The busy “shamba” girl trying to balance school, home and shamba. None willing to toss her a bone.

The witch doctor chants.

The young man studying at midnight by the lamp oil, striving for better knowing the harshness of his world.

The shoe polisher, fish mongers and street vendors who meet up by the kiosk.

We are all a people,

Of the same tribe,

Warrior behind the same shield.

HIV sufferers, all are we.

Positive or negative we all suffer the loss,

As HIV continues to feast on the nation mercilessly.

God is not our enemy, we are a people of the same origin.

Much I cannot explain.

Examples and samples will not bring justice.

As we toil and laze under the African sun,

We carry our heritage from the darkest black to the brownest gold.

Hear the drum of the African.

This is the picture that was and still is Africa to me. I am African but have never settled there. This is a picture that is painted partly by the recollections of my parents and our African friends/family living outside of Africa and partly what I saw and felt during my month-long visits. It is hard for me to call it home but is easy to call myself African. I included excerpts of references towards HIV because even though there is a huge stigma surrounding it, it’s so very prevalent and cannot be denied in the African society. Africa, or at least ‘my Africa’ is infused with so many great traditions, great people, great customs, fun times and family yet whether we like to accept it or not HIV and poverty is a part of Africa, and as I put pen to paper I cannot deny myself my written truth.