Monday, 22 November 2010

Search of Identity

Don’t pretend: You must’ve heard before
Be proud of your African roots
Cut the western trends
Love your African person…
In music, in dressing, in talking, in values
You’ve heard the booming scream
A scream your ears
Have been waxed off
Your cheers and jeers, sneers and snarls
Have drowned the message
‘we must move with the times’ huh?
“world’s moving, not stationary man’ huh?
And so apart from waxing your ears
Your entire body is striped like zebra’s
Some people said that they are not whipmarks
No! You wanted it that way; you paid for it
Our people have something like that, anyway
After a successful raiding and bloodbath
A ritual, a necessity
Yours looks like a gecko’s on a rough-casted wall!
Hm! The drums, the flute, the adeudeu, the xylophone
‘…are primitive music for the village-folk’, you said
Your manner of talking? In all wisdom Tororot didn’t intend that
For if one can’t breath well and talk distinctly
For if one talks as if he’s being chocked
For if he talks like one about to jump off a cliff
I must say it is not talking, it is stalking my poor ears!

But why should I suffer? Just why?
Everytime I complain I get polite answers:
‘Peace! Loud mouth old fogey!’
Like them, I have waxed my ears too
Against the long unflattering names
Let them pick all flesh and call it decoration
Let them talk with their throats if they like
Let their ears rapture as they capture their captivating choruses
Let them wear their trousers on their knees
As for me
I shall dance to my adeudeu tunes
The music of my soul which shake dullness in my being
I shall talk with the same enthusiasm and steadiness
Will you join me?

C) Lorot Salem 2010


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