Africa, My Heritage

Africa, My Heritage


Africa, My Heritage.
A drum beats, beckons, boom-boom-bah-boom.
It beats so quietly one can hardly catch it.
It beats insistently, convincing and convicting.
Boom-boom-boom-boom, a drum beats.

A night so dark, indigo black.
A blackness thick and concealing.
A curtain, veiling for a time a sacred labor.
Boom-boom-boom-boom, a drum beats.

A drum speaks the language of the ancients,
Uttering prophecies in a black indigo night.
Calling, calling for that which was forgotten;
Lying in the past among festering maggots.
Boom-boom-boom-boom, a drum beats.

A tongue from eons gone by.
Soft and soothing, smooth and salient.
A wisdom that comes from blackness.
Darkness that delivers light.
Boom-boom-boom-boom, a drum beats.

A drum beats for Africa,
Softly calling, calling, “Come.”
The Woman of Africa, black as ebony, strong,
regal and proud.
Her breasts assertive, forthright and true;
gourds of truth-filled nectar.
Sweet, life giving and utterly beyond defeat.
Boom-boom-boom-boom, a drum beats.

A drum beats for Africa – mother.
Her thighs, muscular, strong for bearing.
Her feet planted firmly in the wisdom of her heritage.
Her name is Life – Mother.
Boom-boom-boom-boom, a drum beats.

A drum beats for Africa – Mother.
Squatting on the earth, balancing on her heels,
her calves taut.
From her throat is wrenched a high keening wail,
piercingly splitting.
For her son seduced by a far away land;
Her daughter raped and sold far beyond the watery unknown.
Her keening wail, a plea and a penance for the evil that was done.
Boom-boom-boom-boom, a drum beats.

A drum beats for the son of Africa,
Son of the ancestors, warrior and king.
Wisdom shall be the nectar that you drink.
Son of Africa will return to the motherland,
Tall with a new found knowledge.
Son of Africa will find himself, know his roots and bear pride
for his black heritage.
Boom-boom-boom-boom, a drum beats.

A drum beats for the daughter of Africa.
The new woman, bearing the pride of her mother.
She has said no to flirting and whoring with a culture not her own.
Like her mother she stands, ebony black and proud to be.
A woman with roots running deep in the earth.
She has a name – Tumaini – daughter of Life.
Boom-boom-boom-boom, a drum beats.

A drum beats for you Mother – Africa.
Africa shall heal her wounds.
Africa will redeem herself before her ancestors,
Before the shame of her slavery.
Africa shall endure as the light to come.
Slave no more, free to be black.
Boom-boom-boom-boom, a drum beats.


– Nyambura Kiarie

Nairobi, Kenya.

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