WHERE IS AFRICA?
Once upon a time,
When Our dark glowing colour was our pride,
When light-skinned men begged our girls to be their bride,
Not now, that the pride in our colour has faded,
Not now, that every one wants to be that overripe paw paw,
Why did we lose our pride?
Where are those days when our food used to be the best of all?
When we were blessed with natural medications,
When we remained strong as ever, our men, hardworking and tall,
When children showed respect to elders and mothers,
Why did we forget all these?
Where's our language?
Those days when an infant could speak her mother's tongue so fluently,
When one needed no interpreter,
When grandparents could communicate with grandkids perfectly
Where did we keep our mother's tongue?
Where are our beautiful attires?
The ones that mama would sew for me and Shade,
The one with colour patterns, so attractive we'd fight to get one,
Not this borrowed attires we now have in our wardrobe,
Where's our beloved Ankara?
Those days when me and Shade walked down to the river to get water,
We walked barefooted through the simple paths,
Decorated with cashew leaves that fell off their branches,
So swift was our waist and very fast were our legs too,
Coming back home after the normal jungle games with friends in the stream.
Where are those times?
The time when mama would weave my hair into two with beautiful beads,
When I would walk around with the beads making sweet sounds,
Without the attachment of another hair, natural in its way
Not the Ghanaian styled and braids of these days.
Where are all these now?
Oh! It's civilization?
Does it say we should forget our origin?
Does it say we should throw away our mother's language and succumb to theirs?
Maybe, theirs is generally used, but, our language still remains unique,
It still remains the best of its kind.
Poetess: Naeemat Mahmud
1st August 2022
Photo credit: pin interest
