Her thoughts percolate into my ears like acid rain
Reined in, tied to loads of nonsense from new-world
Worldly thoughts I loathe, for venom is their ocean.
Oceans of bliss in their ignorance masks the ensuing pain.
Pride in her riches like my daughter’s first picture;
Picturing formless ink forms as more of number “1”s.
One day she’ll doodle and it will make sense, but now
Nowhere near Picasso’s are the art in her feature.
Pride in riches: she called Africa the richest place!
Placing my bets carefully I side with her view.
She then said the diamonds and gold sustain that too!
Too much for me ma’am…but mine’s a different place.
For rich or poor is defined by so much more than stones
Stoning soldiers to death, stone cold killers from kids
Kidding with adult toys (not those …jeez guys! Be adults!),
Adult toys that suck life and blood and call retaliative drones.
Come on! Those aren’t your riches…they are Earth’s;
Earthly things outliving our decaying remains,
Remaining for the next generation. We could have picked
Pickets as currencies, or flowers…just anything and set its worth.
For the real wealth is people together working equal,
Unequal, Good, evil. All people as long as they are happy.
Happens that that’s what also brings economic wealth.
Wealthiest nations have the highest density of people.
The leaves of her premise sway about on the roots of
Offish bar-talk: “They get raw and process and sell,
Sales price escalating in the process so the initial person
Persistently can’t afford what has come of his stuff.”
But maybe there’s the catch: It’s not your stuff!
Stuffed with plenty from mother nature you watched
Watches scattered in rocks and metal about your garden,
But never sought to assemble any, never used your stuff.
So while you hid and counted the talents in hand
Handymen handled theirs, building all that we see around.
Round the centuries Africa did, then Asia, then Europe, then…
Then Jesus’s talent parable’s paradox suddenly stands.
So while Africa whines about the stuff being stolen
The real loss is the exiled minds who’d fathom new ideas,
Ideally within their home. But there the hero is non grata
Grating his life away amidst corruption and opportunities stolen.
A lot of talk of how Africa’s rich for its resources, landscapes…blah blah! No! what Africa has is people. People abused for being honest, abused for seeking change. But people capable of great things, but pushed into egocentricity by the artificial adversity created by the people appointed to get them out of adversity.
Africa’s quite huge, but this is the commonest trait. Our leaders spoil themselves on their people, and education suffers, then research suffers. The major cost of finished goods is the R&D we don’t do due to stolen (not embezzled) funds. Lots of wasted opportunities.
Africa’s time will come when Africa’s people’s time will come…when they shall be heard. When Africa stops looking for the fault everywhere and really introspects in a deep SWOT exercise. When leaders actually start to serve.
2 thoughts on “I am not rich #wakeupAfrica”
Thank you for reading from my blog. I was directed to this impressive poem to read. There are words of power here about equality and the consequences of losing it or giving it away. The issues here are so deep and real–they are forces themselves, to be talked about and realized in life for good or ill. Wake up, Africa! An urgent, needful call. Thank you!
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Hi, Indeed very deep ideas and thoughts which are actively debated daily. Thanks for stopping by, and enjoy all the other poems too 🙂