Poetry In Motion

I am A Zimbabwean

Footprints On The Sands Of Time 1

Here I am
Standing before you, a Zimbabwean...
Born at a time when peace was still in her infancy
And independence, nursing the wounds of the liberation struggle

This was the time when the echoes of the voice of Bob Marley were still audible from the hills and valleys crying for love, peace and unity,
When the lone moon was still mourning the sad departure of this icon from a world he desired to heal from racial discrimination and hate by instilling love in the hearts of many through music

The time when the graves of our heroes and heroines of the Second Chimurenga were still damp with tears of mothers, fathers and children who had lost their loved ones in peace and freedom search, 
When the mountains, the rivers, the grasses, the trees, the elephants even the pestilential mosquitoes were in silent worship of the departed souls of the liberation struggle 

A period when the people were anticipating truth and reconciliation, to bring all man to an equal and fair ground of contention,
When the land was praying for the rains of good governance to water the homes of the leaders, the streams of solidarity to flow across the country,
And justice to be the feasting on the tables of the council

This was the period the land was ravaged by vicious winds of hate politics sweeping across the country with blood flowing the streets, dead bodies in trains, buses and roadsides
Mass graves dug without honoring the dead, people vanishing, buried without a funeral
A brother killing another for power and tribal dominance, to rule with a fist a people promised freedom and democracy.

'Hurt to the bone, pierced to his soul
He sacrificed his pride for the peace of his people,
for tranquility he joined his hand in unity with the enemy,
for progress he agreed to become subdued'
This was the period we became a "nation", and thought to be at peace
A time we crowned our king and thought we are "strong"
A moment we formed this front of patriots and thought it is "democracy"

I am Zimbabwean, my mind and my knowledge of myself is formed by this history of madness, sadness and tears 
By the joys and pains of the liberation struggle that are the jewels on our Zimbabwean crown,
The victories we earned from the sacrifices of people like Joshua Nkomo, Hebert Chitepo, Jason Moyo, Josiah Tongogara, my father, my mother, my brother, my sister

Without fear of being prejudiced I say...
I owe my being to the fathers who bled for our liberation 
To the mothers who cried in prayers for a united nation
To the youths who died fighting one another for their emancipation
To the leaders who in their pursuit of power have committed a veritable crime against humanity.....
I am Zimbabwean, born of a people who are heroes and heroines, villains and criminals
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Footprints On The Sands Of Time (2)

My body thawed in the warmth of the morning
melted in the heat of the midday sun
The naked blue skies had not seen the covering of the spring-clouds,
Dripping with sweat, my blistered feet failed me crossing the streams void of their flow
Barefooted and bruised first grade was my hope of morrow
With mother and father laboring to wipe away my sorrow 

In the streets, were footprints of a hungry people, 
in the homes of the poor were silent tears of starvation, 
The ghetto was a breeding of disease and crime, 
a camp were victims parade with no mask to hide this brutish reality,
a place where the shadow of death haunts the day of man

The falcon, the vulture, the mocking bird even the highflying eagle
The hyena, the elephant, the lion had no strength to stand the struggle 
Mothers weep on their knees, faces wrinkled with the pain of hunger and starvation, 
tears dripping haplessly as the land was being ravaged by the beasts of   drought and of man

Prowling viciously like a lion, politics walked out from the ashes of the famine
With a brutal fist raised high in the streets it conned democracy and
the ballot was made a loot of people's rights and justice
A suppression of the voice of freedom and independence
A violation of legislation and betrayal of the integrity of the rule of law

'A morsel of bread for a thousand dollars, a measure of wheat for two thousand..., hurt not of the upper-room, spare the oil for the masters' cake', 
This was the time the hand of politics found solace in the treasury 
unbudgeted expenditure crushing down the walls of our economy
Darkness falling down like a thick black curtain upon our commerce
Eclipsing a bright shining November of my eighth grade
blurring my hope for a future once prophesied bright and beautiful....

shall I then sing praises to the deeds of my fathers before you
Shall I tell this story with pride and a boastful heart...
No..!,
Though in my veins courses the blood of my ancestors
In my palms are traces of the paths they walked to discover this heritage
And in my heart is the undoubtable beating that confirms I am their son..
my voice shall speak that which I see through the echoes of time
That which my footprints has written on the sands I've trod...

I am a Zimbabwean, this which I've spoken before you, let it not be misheard outside of this symposium,
Let these walls around us be not the enemy I fear
But a companion of comfort, love, care and trustworthiness 
For at times and in fear, I wonder if I am of a nation that would not allow fear of death, torture, imprisonment, exile or persecution result in the perpetuation of injustice
A people that could stand up and say 'I am a Zimbabwean'
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Footprints On The Sands Of Time (3)

Standing on my native grounds
Barren without the fall of the rains 
With my feet steady to follow the footprints of my fathers
And my heart pulsating with the pride of my high school success 
Thinking I will survive through my sorrows and reign with those of the noble births, 
Those born not with infirmities but with a blessing of power and survival

But ill-practice of democracy and political madness gave rise to autocracy and tyrannical rule,
Which bulldozed through economic walls collapsing pillars of commerce
Bringing down what once was the backbone of our survival to nothing,
but a jungle infested by mediocre minds and chaotic lazybones
Brainwashed by ideologies of racism, nepotism, hate and the fear of "imperialism"

Wandering in the streets 
The earth drinking of my hungry sweat dropping down my sorrow wrinkled face
I wearied pursuing peace in search of survival and power
though without a wage, mother always gave me her hand to walk
And in his labouring pains, father prayed for me not to stop
Even when political darkness blew off the flickering lamp
His pride for the family never shut off the light

With the Zimbabwean cheaper falling to no significance 
Failing its capacity in commerce and exchange
Urban dwellers, rural folks, the poor, even the richer lamented seeing
Hunger begetting criminals of youths who in survival were fighting for their right of existence
Poverty alluring our sisters into sexual slavery, 
selling their pride and beauty in streets to man of low moral essence
only to bring a dollar home to feed her child 

           "Hoist the sails and 
            head for the south
            Sail me away from 
           this Godforsaken place
      Away from poverty and hunger
     the tyranny brought on so many 
                 but by the few"

The able sung as they migrated south in search of sanity
While chiefs and masters plundered to appease their insatiable hunger for power and delusions of grandeur,
to the detriment of the man in the gutter
Who to survive begged at their door steps with sweat and tears
And in fear bled in defense of an enemy he ought to fight 
A revolution that tortured, killed and silenced human justice 
by violating the rule of law and the democracy of the ballot....,

I am a Zimbabwean
A son of the soil born in the dusty streets of post-colonial Harare,
In the day I cried to gulp my first breath, to taste of this life of deceit
My voice reached the ears of a nation betrayed and duped of its freedom
A people who by their vote sold a generation into slavery of democracy
A generation I am today, that have seen the cruelty of politics and the deceit of the ballot
A people whom by hunger, poverty and injustice, they are labouring to shut 
 
....before today, they united in front of us, 
holding hands with their hearts evidently apart
For a while they caught our attention and manipulated our minds....
we ate bread, and smiled under the moon
a light of hope we saw in darkness glow from a distance,
.....but within myself I knew it was a candle flickering in the wind...
For I am a Zimbabwean and the blood in my veins is of my fathers.
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