Not the deserts, or rivers, hills and mountains
With snakes, scorpions, spiders and all manner
Of poisonous creatures that crawl the valleys,
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Gorges and thickets of forest and thorny bushes
Of Africa. Nor the sun and sultry temperatures,
Children of global warming and stellar cooling,
Nor the chilly highland temperatures at zero,
Freezing and hurling the curse of shaking teeth,
At those that walk these lands, up and down,
Left and right across the terrain, nor the oceans and
Lakes, seas and oases in the Egyptian deserts and
Other drylands of the Maghreb, nor the plateaus
And other table lands in the great rift valleys,
And fjords or tomboloo’s or ox-bow lakes here and
There, that are trouble in Africa.
No, it is man,
Yes, It is woman,
Indeed, It is the leader,
And it is the blind led,
Or that fill power crests
Basins of followership
Made blind by nothing
But cheap choices to be
What we are now, preferring
Badness for goodness, corruption
For hard work, and tribalism
For statesmanship, enticing
Fraud and cheating, for research
And holy dictatorship for our worship,
Planting old age brutality in every hole,
And the seedling is juvenile poverty,
Sprouting from corner to corner,
In service to despair and less hope,
For they are pitifully young; Nothing
They will harvest, but sin and perfidy
Of the foremen that went.
