POEM BY @ROMA078: WHITE BORDERS ON WHITE LANDS

Mballa,
I am not a poet
I do not seek to promote my name And I do not cry for fame
I do not cry for attention
I am only an African boy
Born in the bushes of Ghana

I saw bullets pour out in Liberia
I saw the people kill their leader in Libya
I saw South Sudan break off from Sudan
I saw hunger in Somalia
I saw the people rebel against their leaders in Egypt, in Cote d’ivoire, In morocco, in Tunisia and in Angola
I saw great empires collapse
And I saw people migrate from lands they so much loved

I saw the poor and weak people pay taxes in the markets
And I saw a selfish politician steal those very monies without being questioned I saw my father drink from the muddy stagnant waters the cattle drank from
I saw our leaders gather in comfort
To sign bonds that only ensured that Africa remained divided
I saw Europeans gather in Berlin
And in a space of 3 to 4 months our beautiful land was broken into pieces
That isn’t my point,
I saw Europeans pack out

And yet I saw people refuse to patch our lands back up
Oh leaders of our land,

Were we not educated in your schools?
Were you not the designers of the curriculums?
Did you not employ teachers to teach us?
To teach us that a people won’t achieve development except when they have united?
Did we not sing songs of African unity each morning in your schools?
Did you not teach us that “pray3, wo yi baako a, 3bu, nanso wo k abo mu a, 3mmu”?(Is easy to break a single broom of stick, but very difficult to break when together)
Did your teachers not read to us the stories of how our freedom fighters sought to break these boarders?
Then why has the Organization of African Unity (now African union) failed to unite our lands after close to 6 decades of its establishment?
Why do you meet to strengthen the division that the pioneers sought to do away with? Why do you strengthen our border posts to prevent Africans from having access to Africa? Why do you cover our skies with 54 flags of division?
Oh leaders of our land,
The boy you taught in your schools to be bold and defend our land is watching you

This isn’t a poem
This is the cry of the son of a charcoal burner✊🏿