Read #1 book on Hinduism and enhance your understanding of ancient Indian history.
Read #1 book on Hinduism and enhance your understanding of ancient Indian history.

Mwebe Morgan

Abstract Drama Action


4.1  

Mwebe Morgan

Abstract Drama Action


Voiceless

Voiceless

3 mins 191 3 mins 191

You still have heroes, right?

Or do we have villains within us?

Your ability to understand me, was your strength. 

I grew up in a politically volatile country,

A nation that kills its citizens ruthlessly, young or old, children, mothers and husbands!

You reminded me of the brighter days ahead.

But the foggy days still spill the blood of the innocent, blocking a wave of change.

We live in a purgatory state of political thieves!


Whatever your circumstances, you always did what needed to be done.

I am eternally grateful for your teaching me,

How to write, arithmetic and work hard,

And to be a great sportsman and be honest in my relationships,

I applaud you for reminding me about a man's ethos,


Sometimes I crossed the line, I fought in school, just after little provocations or insults, 

You mentioned that a man's value lies in his brain, not his fists or strength. 

You also said that a pen was more powerful than a sword or an arrow, 


You reminded me that the world has changed not because of military strength, but because of intelligent people like writers, politicians, poets, musicians, scientists and teachers, activists. 

They had spread the principles of democracy, love of freedom and self-expression.


But not in the Banana Republic we live! This is the only country where the value of a man is measured in a mug of maize grain.  

Papa, you said, I shouldn't mention these things, but this country bleeds every day.

Picture a bush rat that costs millions and a goat that costs a billion shillings! 

Today, we have sold our country to the faceless, and heartless foreigners.


You were a parent, not allowing anybody to have the best of you,

But you had lots of fun too, and merry-making,

Your colleagues called you "Peron" for your endorsement of the principles of democracy,

You liked the deposed Argentine president, for his initial love to help his people, regardless of their creed.

You loved Evita and the song, her countrymen sang after she died prematurely, 

"Don't cry for me, Argentina".

For us, we have no song to cloak on!


Now, I have remembered your love of Kadongo Kamu, country music, reggae to the contemporary music. I learned to listen and narrate the themes of the songs, 

That old Gramaphone of yours used to wake us up every morning for chores. The Afro rhythm and acoustic guitars of the fallen singers gave birth to the memories of a whole generation. No one ever forgets Masagazi, Ssebaduka, Mutebi, Wamala, Kawalya to Mugula, Luyima, Ssebata, Basudde, Kafeero, Kasozi, Nakakawa, Nabiryo and others.

Forgive me, Papa, I traded your LPs for tape cassettes for my walkman.


I still hear Dolly Parton's loud and squeaky voice in my head, like yesterday. 

The raucous voice of Porter Wayne Wagoner, Don Williams, and Kenny Rogers.

The exciting beats and melodies of Bob Marley and the Wailers. Today, some may say dead men leave lasting memories! 

Papa, is this the new country you envisioned?


The death of your children, Eve, Job, Romeo, Peter has troubled you. 

But the death of your mother, Jaaja Kate agonized you the most, you were sad for years, 

And recently, your wife, Momma Cecilia died. 

Now you have accepted this transition.  

Death is a fleeting sentiment, a darkness.

You know that it is a solitary and winding journey, a journey that we will all follow for the next step, an evolution of life.

Rest well, kinsmen! A lush, green and paradisaic meadow awaits you.


Papa, there isn't a country for old people and young people. What we have now are tribal sentiments and partisanship.

The bushmen continue to eclipse democracy, and they have glued themselves until death absolved them.


This is the façade that they erected on the ignorant citizens in the 1980s.

Already, secret and incorrigible nuggets are irking towards a hostile but "peaceful" takeover.

You see, Papa, that's where I jump off your train, it's now bus Dunia!


Sometimes heroes pass unnoticed, and it's the villains that we remember the most!


We celebrate our Fathers who show us the way. A new dawn will rise tomorrow and our country will be liberated from the remnants of clowns! 



Rate this content
Log in

More english poem from Mwebe Morgan

Similar english poem from Abstract