POSTED 03/25/2018 18:27
We believe they rowed their boats of tumults into our region;
carrying with them bags of conundrums,
while we drummed our drums and jollied to their,
The way they dressed, the way they addressed us
Made us mime to the harmony and yearns in their speeches of a dawn to civility and hale:
that was a start of the course of slavery in Africa.
We still thought they were our brothers, because our chiefs rolled floridly with their proposals
While we were mockingly disposed of
In the field, or given to bespoken tailors as apprehends;
as helps; in servitude;
‘posed to carry out orders as the come in flicks.
We became babies in our own motherland we became cartages of their foreign plans.
We cleared our huts so that they could find comfy and build on our strengths
draining our tears as they wryly whipped us on our backs.
Their wisdom their prowess
They used to molest
And we gazed in cluelessness
Cause we still didn’t see it as slavery then – but as pain,
Then came the rots
From the riots that outplayed later
When they considered us dipshits,
Wormlings that indeed needed to fang their overheated exposure for our sustenance and hale
They made our home a living hell.
They churned-in as much deceit as they could and set courses on sail,
Cussing our place
And taking over the grazing of our cattle’s and livestock;
making our livelihood a laughing stock.
We do not doubt their somewhat positive stride or the cauldron with irking fluid steaming forth but…
‘Morrow, and for as long as life dims fit to still exist
We shall triumph
Our skin shall be our trump
And our minds shall cause a stop to ethnocentrism and marginalization
Cause we all, can still be one without any ill notion.
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