Sunday, April 25, 2010

Heartache.

Born to a beautiful nation, African is my proclamation, situated in the east of the motherland, six foot brown skin soft features I stand, Islam my religion, the Quran held by my right hand.

Heard tales of my lands beauty, how peace flourished, much progress and prosperity. Heard of law and order, paved roads and amazing structure, an education system and a military power to patrol the boarder.

Heard of green pasture blessed with the almighty’s rain showers, heard of wild life big and small flocking at the rivers, prides of lions to herds of gazelle and zebra.

A Muslim people who congregate to prayer, at the call of the athan maker, a people who shared a decent and moral culture. A people of understanding, a people joint together, a people of hope and a bright future.

Born in the eighties on someone else continent, a foreigner to my place of origin, all I saw and heard was suffering, from the time my brain gained equilibrium, realising an illness of the heart lead to this conundrum.

Finding it difficult to understand, how tribalism and love for clan, destroyed the nations forward plan, blood soaked the earth staining the once glowing terrain, two decades later and everlasting pain, the wrong ways of the past has not registered in our brain.

It was the enemies plan, divide and conquer, strategic thinking in order to loot and plunder, now we amongst us the land partition, each party of its self thinks better, claiming a new nation.

Heartache as I look at those fortunate to be around me, heartache as I look at those faces reflected by the TV, on foreign soil our youth fight and argue over worthless flags, hate, vendetta labelling one another with racial tags.

The ignorance that lead to the exodus, over skies and seas seems to follow us, all the while still unable to comprehend, or maybe we do but prefer to live blind and pretend, while the world continues to enhance, we for the love of anarchy persist on living in a trance.

On my tongue my father’s language flows heavy, but I love my people even if with a bullet they welcome me, some of those who know me consider me crazy, they scorn at my ideology, they say how can you lay claim to a place you only discovered yesterday.

I loved Somalia before I even knew or meet her, heartache from the thought of my children never having to see her, they say why bother when Africa was never your home, thankful for all but such would be like claiming Rome.

Is there anybody out there, peace and hope for one nation share, education for the children, shoes on feet that are bare, hospitals for little comfort and care, ignorance from our minds we must tear, housing for the homeless charity and welfare, food and water for stomachs that are bare.

Dreams into reality, light years from the atrocity, a nation of unity, of love and purity, to many my words sound like sweet seduction, like a captivating tale that has no conclusion, we can blame the elders, we can blame the neighbours, or ask the western world for more interest rate favours, my vote is to join together and seize the reigns of our future.

My lord and master on my hands and knees a pray please give life to my lands; only by your will, can we from laying on a backs stand, even from a far, a dazzling white star, it twinkles in my eye, shining in the midst of a baby blue sky.

One nation One people.

Hamza Egal
copyright © 2010

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