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To The Field I Go
You called me mama
To your service-i am here!
To the field i go.
I embrace my strong hoe
And begin my days of toil:
Tilling the land
Breaking the rocks
Spreading the manure
Day in, day out.
I get my meagre pesa
To buy posho for today
Have my ugali
With an onze of sukuma wiki.
But bitter is this heart of mine.
Someone with a muddy finger
Has locked its spirit;
Poke his beak on the sweat of my brow!
While i toil in the field
He watches me from the balcony window
Shouting directions
Sipping his red wine.
I amass my grief in my heart-
Many a tear i shed
Into the deep crevice of time
But the mighty,ever high
Heed no small man`s tear.
My past woven into mementoes of bad memories,
I have no present yet
Pitifully nothing at present.
White imperialism? Colonialism ? Master versus slavery?
Your gem here speaks volumes of the history and truth behind the words i have written above.
I do not know exactly how affected your life is by such events, but i know how bad it must have been for the natives during those times .
Thanxs for sharing this (sensitive) glimpse of your thoughts with us... it is MOST revealing .
Take care.