He walks our streets,
Has our ears.
He speaks in our tongue,
Condemns any foreign stunts.
Reincarnated,
He bears our mark,
The African mark of oppression,
Of segregation,
Of condemnation,
Of a tainted history.
He has traded in his whip,
For his own tongue,
Releasing lash after lash,
Of words that leave my people cursed.
Spitting venom, words that burn the very fiber of our scored society.
He parades around in my people’s clothes
Swears it’s a sign of a shared struggle,
Yet covers the Rolex he wears,
The Mercedes he has,
Sky high private jets,
While my children still walk kilometers to school.
He has traded in his segregationist methods
For tyrannical chants,
Sung the country over.
Chant after chant,
My people grow restless,
Chant after chant,
My people grip tighter their shackles
One more chant…
Our freedom evades us.
Our oppressor has taken from us
The gift of our forefathers,
The gift of freedom,
Of choice,
Of a returned glory.
Our oppressor isn’t a foreign man.
Our oppressor is our brother.
Our father.
Them that once fought for the glory of the black man,
Because the demon of greed
Has strangled him to insanity,
And that insanity,
Is tearing my people apart.
Away from their glory.
Maibuye ngempela i’Africa
A e boye ka nnete Africa
Let Africa really return to its people.
Poem By Moshibudi Thatego Madia
