Mama Africa

Mama Africa...

Whenever she was with the rest, she would stand out. Her high cheekbones, deep ebony skin tone and elegance truly was magnificent.  All who stole at least a glance at her marvelled, but remained frugal in their admiration. Bright colours were her signature sense of style but no one knew of her inner struggles of self-acceptance. Though despised by the pale lady with a corset around her waist and sneered at by the short woman with a stout figure, her head was ever held high. She was neither shy nor self pitiful, as it wasn’t her fault that she looked and acted different. The others thought her ways were primitive. Yes, primitive was the word thrown around most to describe her. Fantasy tales were told about her household. It was said beyond her gates, killer diseases like malaria and cholera killed without a whim. It was said her pets were majestic big cats, the mightiest a lion. Even when the rest wore thick coats and exposed most of their flesh during various seasons of the year, she remained modest, stylish and ever colourful.

And her smile, that big beautiful and bright smile. It was a sad smile. It was a happy smile. It was a smile holding a thousand tales. It was a smile that spoke of resignation; but not resentment. It was an honest smile, amidst her inner pain. Like the sun ever high over her territories, that smile never fades.

Africa was almost robbed naked... (Nas, 2003)

She was different. She knew so since a tender age. She was picked upon by the muscular boys from the North. They robbed her off almost all the natural wealth she was blessed with. And among this bullies, she found herself in a weird bond with one. It was like marriage but one where the terms and conditions were signed by the lad as the lass had no say. This man captured her in slavery, using one of her relatives as bait. He was a smooth talker. Told her of tales from the high seas. She was fascinated and dwelt under his strong muscular arms. The same arms would later on strangle her almost robbing her life. Their union was rocky and unbalanced. The man left for some time and never returned the same. His energy was sapped off fighting a global war. The lady of this story was left derelict but with dignity intact. She decided not to stand it anymore, she fought, it was bloody, it was long but she endured. She won.

After her triumph, the joy was not to last for long, she gave birth and during her labour she wept. But alas! They were tears of joy. She had finally redeemed herself. She would walk proudly at the market-place. She was as dignified as the other women.

As her son developed, he acquired queer ways and the other kids in the village murmured that his selfishness would be his downfall. As the first born, he inherited the family property. His self-centredness wouldn’t allow him to share anything with his siblings and the squabbles in the family would remain perpetual to this day. As he grew up, with his foolishness now well documented, the newer generation of his mum’s first husband came with beaming smiles from ridges far and wide. He was enchanted. He felt important. He adopted their ways and gullibly fell into their trap. Little did he know that he was dealing with a smooth criminal. A criminal after the wealth in his homestead. The story goes on to this day...

U.S.A-frica

Oh Africa, where doth thou redemption lie?