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By Isaac Kiiza Tibasiima

Sunday, February 13, 2011.

(Inspired by the 'madness' we showed at Obama's win and so many other things. 
Disclaimer: Africa shall always be a big part of my loves)

I wail for you, Africa, wail -
I see your dreams dashed
In the split second of dawn,
I see your rosebuds die
At the noon-day heat,
I see your hope fade
With the dying sun at dusk.

You have laid your hope
In dreams unreachable,
You have raised your flags
Only to lower them again,
You have smiled to the world
Only to be grinned and laughed back at
They have made you feel good
Only to destroy you again.

Land of my fathers
Yours is a long dead glory,
The ashes of your fame spread out
And in them a hybrid of humans
Is begotten, even stronger
In the new world they are born.

So, where is your hope, homeland?
Where are your found consolations
At so rich a past?
Where is your vision of the dark
That is only turned against you?
Where is the light
That you so much followed then?

Africa, your past aches
Your present stinks
Your future....
We shall get there, I hope,
But now, I wail
For you never learn
And continually murder yourself
Making a once cherished dream of life
A nightmare of death
And pale, so pale, it is.

Isaac Kiiza Tibasiima is an Ugandan writer, poet and academic. He is based at Makerere University, Kampala, Uganda.

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