Written piece
Africa ain't Feeling African
Taboka Mulongoti
Zambia
About this piece
"Africa Ain't Feeling African" is a poem of grief, and unflinching honesty from a Zambian voice. Inspired by "America, America, America" by the Young Spirit House Movers and Shakers. It traces the thread of colonial legacy through language, land, identity and self betrayal
I'm freaking out.
The culture is at war cause our people
Are just simply a product of the white Monopoly.
The industry of our black artistry
Is being exploited so adroitly we can't avoid it.
All for profit.
For we're not at war with only them,
We crabs in a barrel.
My brother shaking hands with common enemies
For mutuality of which is arguably inferior mentality.
Happy on bare minimum.
Fatally cost your neighbourly fatality.
Start a black mortality for what?
Comfortability?
Eating on their leftovers,
Constantly slept over,
Reminded over and over.
Even in a white benz,
Riding on a white bike,
Rocking on the brand that's intended for the likewise.
Even in a white suit,
Sleeping in the white suite,
You are just a black man, do remember that.
Write it on the white wide paper,
Headline it on the white board,
Repeat it like a mantra.
A tundra can't compare to rainforests.
What, you smoke trees with us
And now you think you one of us?
But you ain't own the trees.
All these shades of green
Yet you staring at the white one.
Chains by Jacob,
Some acclaims from the white man.
Fame and validation ain't fulfilled
Till you like one.
No wonder we ain't ever gon' advance.
The colour on our hands is resentment,
The walk we got on Vans shows your lack of contentment.
This is what you truly meant?
This our dissertation?
Is this what we call representation?
You telling me that this the black nation?
We walking going towards our damnation.
Blame traumatisation,
Blame the white race and the government.
Tell me where that takes them.
Tell me how that aids us.
Tell me how that fades the paralysis,
Inertia of our evolvement.
Look at our involvement in our downfall.
This ain't what we fought for.
Africa,
Ain't feeling African.
Look at the great land of the afroskin.
This the so called awful lot we fought for.
Oh no.
Oh no.
So uncalled for,
So unlawful,
So abominable,
So disappointing.
Pointing at my flag like what I'm proud for?
I don't know some land that I paid for?
I'm so ungrateful.
This ain't what Kenneth Kaunda nearly died for,
This ain't what Simon Mwansa quite literally cried for,
This aint what John Chilembwe lost his damn life for.
What is there to sing for?
National anthems for
All the hypocritical,
All the uncritical.
Well I'm not delusional.
African
Ain't feeling African.
Forefathers didn't die for the bare minimum,
So what I'm doing standing in attention?
A country stuck on freedom assumption?
That's not my notion.
I want my nation and African retention.
Attention, attention, attention.
Stop your free world fantasy
And stress till this mess dies with all of the tension.
Africa
Ain't feeling African.
And I'm the villain just because I said it African?