Poem: Lullaby Africa

You make your bed and sleep too deep in cradles of diamonds and ore Indeed, you slumber too deep in couches of silver and gold.

With wheedling lullaby, you lounge too deep in divans of bauxite and oil You do not stir to confer the worth of your possessions Neither the charge of your merchandise, to concur. You leave the doors to your wherewithal to many a stranger to unlock On hinges well oiled, you do not hear the intruder despoil your birthright You hear not the plunderer.

And if you should awaken, you harvest for them your priceless heritage In pain of disease and pangs of starvation, with your mouth packed With pacifiers for consolation, so you would not whimper in remonstration.

This land of Africa, you are ensnared by many a lender’s hand, heavy on overheads You propel downtrends, swayed by dissident winds, you feast with saboteurs Indeed, your refined subversion against your own verily astounds. With ravenous bandits you collaborate, appending your seal for tithing percentages You reward patriotism with palliative wages, and thwart the counsel of your sages.

For ineffectual hand-outs bestowed, you hold carnivals, shaking hands to dislodge arms They smirk, and you beam, failing to spot the blight of flattering applause So you least detect your odum and sapele growing wings of flight Likewise cocoa, of which trees you tend with endurance, and of seeds you sell for pittance.

The resultant luxurious refined sweets you rarely savour. This land of Africa, this land lying fallow, awake, you sleep too deep.