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Thursday, June 24, 2004

Arise Africa

Like a teenager emerging from the shades of childhood
Africa sprung like a paragon of beauty
She grew as  a child towards sainthood
Her every move chaste, summarized as purity
Black gold cascades like well oiled hair
Facial features sharply chiseled out through self development
Her supple shoulders moulded into submission to constituted authority and heirs
Her slender hands constantly improving all that is set before her
Her Scholars, sprouting, as promising as young firm breasts
Her waist as a swans neck, void of corruption and evil schemes
Undulating hips, as big as her dreams and aspirations
Her steady long legs, the rock upon which her education and knowledge is based
Like a young maiden introduced at her first ball, she stands in amazement at the scenario before her
All like minded young rakes flock around her while older men beat their chests in display of superiority, strength and ownership
The older men grab at her and begin to lay claim to her sweetness, filling her mind with sweet promises of paradise
She is blinded by cheap gifts of jewelry to lure her and gin to intoxicate her
Being naive and gullible, she swallows all, believing them
Realizing that she is smitten, they begin to rough handle her
She protests and struggles but she is weak
Her structure is not meant for destroying natures work but preserving it
The men gain the upper hand
They begin to plunder, they loot, they ravage, they possess and finally enslave her
Alas Africa, once a proud and stately maiden is raped in her youth
Suddenly she finds herself  tattered, battered, buffeted. descended from grace to grass
Her garments of royal purple is shredded and has become rags
exposing her once sought after innocence to all filthy men whose hands seek what they never placed there
Her lovers desert her, leaving her in the cold to fend for herself
In deep pain and distress, she makes a resolve to stand although her entire body groans in protest
Her once shiny black hair is almost completely torn out
Her face is masked by fear of the unknown
Her shoulders become stiff and unyielding
Her eyes burning with passion
All innocence is gone
Her hands are fractured, impeding growth
Her proud scholars are depressed and unsure
Her hips are torn from her waist, leaving a gaping wound that is soon covered with massive fleas of corruption and other vices
Nevertheless, she stands on wobbly feet
She seeks help from the young men that once courted her and danced for her attention, but they are unable to help
They lack the adequate facilities to treat her wounds and restore her
Her condition worsens
Her structure gradually decays, begins to stink
With no one to turn to, she returns to those who stand in accusation, mocking her
The same people who afflicted her
They offer help, at a price
At a price staked far higher than she can ever pay back
Reluctantly, she agrees, desirous to be healed, submitting to their greedy hands
They begin to manipulate.
A chip here, a tuck there.
They subject her to degrading conditions and rules.
"to recover, you must do this and that" "do not do this or that"
Oh Africa, have you forgotten your roots so quickly?
Don't you know that you have what it takes to be made whole?
Listen Africa, the only one who can help you is yourself.
Look inwards
For deep within you lies all the herbs and ointments you really require for your own healing.
Let go of the past
Look ahead to the future, where you will stand proud again with your head high
For old things have passed away, and all things have been made new again.

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