I am from a place called Africa
A dark continent with dark people filled with melanin and dreams that belong to others. People whom not only a skin colour but also dreams are referred black, those unsure of their ability and ready for the taking they say: Yet in the darkness of this night called Africa I fail to see the stars, moon nor the scorching sun that invites many to come tan while enjoying the beautiful warm temperatures of our seas during the day because the sky of Africa is covered by the wings of huge planes that carry many from the so-called first world but the only first thing about them is to take from others what doesn't belong to them. I am from a place called Africa
A place where those who want to demonstrate their humanity and at times stamp their dominance come to give help and take away its children, change their African given names into names that they can pronounce instead of learning what they call native names. A place without its own identity nor collective language as different parts of it has adopted languages of those who once colonized them. I am from a place called Africa
A place where people kill each other in the name of religions that owe their existence in other parts of the world but their own, A place where its children dreams are to grow up and be something else rather than an African. A place that has given birth to life, civilisation, a cradle of human kind but lacks humanity and murder each other like senseless controlled robots because even animals are capable of loving.
I am no poet, just a simple writer with no rhythm nor rhymes to excite the dance inclined mind of an African child whom this piece is written about. I am no philosopher with doctrines of right/wrong to gauge my intelligence versus that of the first world and its habitants whom this piece is written for. I am from a place called Africa
