Last week I sent news of Lance Muteyo’s work in peace-making with chiefs and with youth. He promised me a poem and so I wanted this week to fill out his amazing work by sharing this poem with a reflective and wistful tone. Often his writings are strong and prophetic; this is pastoral and loving — holding a people, a land in the palm of his love.
Africa not yet UHURU
Gone are the glorious days of my childhood,
When I sat on top of Gasani mountain,
in the very land of our ancestors,
deep in the quietness of the early morning.
Down the valley,
in the cover of darkness
I used to hear the frogs sing,
a first song they sang in a long time,
a melodious song of greeting the new season,
“Goodbye winter, Woza Summer”
Your dark nights are so dark now,
yet this darkness has transformed the song I heard
the frogs sang,
even the frogs are afraid to sing now,
How can they greet the new season in song now?
The valley has been invaded by the unknown!
Mercenaries now walk camouflaged by the dark
to terrorise thy people,
with weapons of terrorism and mass destruction.
Today, as I sit on the very mountain,
I can only hear the song of guns firing bullets,
with tempo from the automatic machine guns,
and tune from the horrific sound of the landmine
I can only ponder to the fact that Africa not yet UHURU.
*UHURU is Swahili for Freedom or free