Mama Africa,
I want to drink from your springs and well,
I want to suckle from your full breasts,
That are nourished with milk and honey,
I want to grow under your watch,
As you tell me tales of my great grandfathers,
Dating back to generations.
I want you to tell me stories,
Of how the maumau fought for freedom in Kenya,
Why they would imprison Nelson Mandela for 27 years if not for selfish gain.
How you endured this ill-timed colonialism,
And why in the name of our forefathers we would
cease calling the rains under the Mugumo trees;
And down our snowcapped mountains and started
listening to the weather man.
Mama Africa,
Teach me your ways,
Please help this generation understand,
That our forefathers lived of age because they ate of
the wild,
Boiling and roasting their kill.
Let them know that their so-called modern ways are
killing them with cancers and incomprehensible
diseases.
Mama Africa,
Teach me to embrace me for who I am
Teach me to love my lovely skin color,
Let me know that beauty is not just without but
within,
I know you wonder why I would trade my beautiful
dark color for colors such as white,
Isn’t the mzungu dying of skin cancers for lack of
melanin?
Remind us that even before the mzungu came,
We only wore little patches of skin here and there,
Our breasts out to bask in the glory of the morning
sun,
As butterflies graced our days and colored our brown
world then.
Mama Africa,
Teach me to embrace my own challenges to stand firm
and fight,
Teach us that we are the solutions,
That we can depend on ourselves and not on foreign
aid,
Teach us independence like way before colonialism,
Independence to form government in kayas and
manyattas,
Independence of thoughts and own my own vision.
Teach me that I must not necessarily subscribe to
anything,
That I have the will and power,
And that the mzungu way is not necessarily right.
Mama Africa,
Hear the cry of a free willed spirit.
