Afrika

I am moulded 

From fertile Afrikan soil 

Afrikan soil made fertile 

By the blood and sweat 

Of my ancestors 

Afrikan soil 

Blackened and hardened 

By the ashes of hopes 

And unachieved dreams 

Once harbored by my grandparents 

I am the daughter

Of a mother who survived apartheid 

I am the granddaughter 

Of a grandmother 

Who was brutalized 

By apartheid officers 

And yet 

Our oppressors want us

To be quiet 

They insist

We quit whining

Stop crying!  

Celebrate your democracy!

They say  

What I want to know is

Is it a crime

To want to lick your wounds? 

How else can we heal? 

But what do I know

Besides I bear the bitter title:

Millennial

However, 

I am an Afrikan 

On foreign soil 

Constantly turning 

The defense of my skin color

And origin

Into a religion 

I am church 

Preaching about Afrika 

The continent NOT the country 

My tongue dances 

In five of the eleven 

Official South Afrikan languages 

U’gogo um’Zulu 

Mme waka ke MoSotho 

In Skool het ek Afrikaans geleer 

So no, I do not speak South Afrikan

That is not a language

But that’s not what triggers me

What really boils me 

Is questions like 

Do Afrikans 

Keep lions as pets? 

Can you ride a lion? 

So now I am an Afrikan zoologist 

Explaining how lions are not 

Kept as pets 

So riding or owning a lion

Would be an act made possible 

Only through witchcraft

Aluta Continua 

The struggle of my people continues 

Aluta continua

54 countries 

Presenting the world 

With female presidents 

Minerals, Crude Oil & Safari 

By the way 

It’s Zeh’brah not Zee’bra

And yet 

My continent is still

Represented by images of children 

With flies   

Defecating on their lips 

Just so a NatGeo picture 

Can be taken 

Dear Google - 

You can do better 

Better than the save

An Afrikan child’s life 

For five foreign dollars adverts 

Afrika raised me 

With Ubuntu 

The spirit of humanity and compassion 

So the neighborhood

Will help you raise your kids 

Your problems are theirs too 

Afrika brewed me 

My heart has bare feet 

And dances to the drums 

Played at enthralling sunsets 

Afrika, forgive me

For the times I abandoned you 

The ones 

Where I thought of myself 

As too highly to be birthed 

By you 

I thought I would be better off 

Elsewhere 

My soul yearns for your touch 

I need the warmth of your embrace 

The inspiration from the hustle spirit 

Of Nigerians and Ghanians

Your tranquility 

In Zimbabwe’s Victoria Falls 

Your Stature 

In Tanzania’s Mount Kilimanjaro

I am the daughter 

Of the soil

Afrikan soil 

Made fertile 

By the blood & sweat of my ancestors 

Through my people 

And I 

Africa - 

Rises! 

           Rises! 

                      Rises!