Slavery isn’t what happened when they took away
our ancestors and sold them off to the plantations of shame. It is what they
let themselves be when they were dragged away from their homes, the way they
refused to live and chose to die. The end, they knew would come someday, sooner
or later. Some decided to choose the easier path, to live longer and they were
buried in the cheap cemeteries, right where stray mutts were dumped, forlorn,
rejected and forgotten. Some chose to go down, but not without a fight. They
chose not to fear the hail of bullets or the acidic saliva from those who
wielded the whip. Their names till today are written in bright colors, for
though they never saw the next day, they lit a torch that guided their children
all the way to the future. The blood they shed irrigated the parched earth and
from there rose new seeds of freedom and liberty. Time comes when one has to
take a new approach to everything. Why use old methods to solve new problems? Pain
has made you all fired up and the drums of war are sounding in everybody’s
backyards. The men are rummaging through their decaying granaries to fish out
their muskets and women under the beds to find their rolling pins. Children are
being shot in the streets and players are turned into spectators in their own
game. But be careful not to throw the baby with the bath water. We have evil
among us, but we got shades of good too. Be keen that in your struggle you
vilify not those who side with you in war. Be brave, people and you shall win,
have foolish courage and at the end of the day you will be spread in the open
field to be picked at by vultures. Fight for what you think is just but you
should know the difference between pursuit of victory and pursuit of revenge.
If bitterness is what motivates you then the war is wrong, but if the look of
fear in your children’s eyes makes yours tear, then the course is just. BLACK LIVES MATTER
I will remember you, motherland I will remember you motherland, when my days are gone. I shall remember the sweet sun that burned bright on our oiled backs, the old sun that decided never to set, to stay and let us play all day. I will remember them, your young men, those we used to play with all day, roll in the dust and fight, love and hate. I shall remember the moments when we believed in life and in love. I shall sing of thee, my motherland, you who suckled us on your old, withered breasts, you who whipped us and took care of our little wounds every day. I will remember you, lovely home, you who condoled with us when we died inside, you who wept with us and smiled with us. I shall leave someday and wander away, for a lion that grows around his father will never roar, and a chick that grows along his father will never get to crow. Chin up, motherland, for here you go unforgotten, here you are, not written with ink but carved with thorns, thistles and sharp stones in my heart. I sha...
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