THE SOCIETY NEEDS YOU, MISTER INTELLECTUAL:
[Sob…Sob…Sob]
My son. Oh! My son.
I catapult you through,
The white man’s education.
Never imagined ‘twas to end this way.Lone with the goats for company.
The last time I laid these,
my old eyes on you…[teardrops]…
Was at the funeral.
Forced you to be.
Yes, my son. Five years ago had been
The last time I embraced you.
Even at the funeral, five minutes was
The only time you could bestow me.
That neighbour’s son,
You remember him?
That childhood friend of yours?
The brotherly times you spent together?
Perhaps you don’t. I blame you not though.
That thing they call tigrii has erased your memory,
Made you for…[sob]…get, dis…[sob]…pise,
Hate your peopleee….
[Sob.Sob.Sob]
My son I’m embittered. Depressed. Regretful.
You say you are a pilot.
I’m puzzled.
“Anamaanisha Dereva wa ndege.”
To me they translate.
I am perplexed!
Wh’ver it is, I think you’re married to it. To the machine
That disturbs my peaceful sleep every morn’
Don’t ignore me please.
Come save me my son.
Come educate me,
Come guide me,
Come back, son.
With sugar, and tea leaves.
I thank him. I bless him.
He shows me a portrait
Of someone I know not.
“Vote for him mama.” He says.
I agree and swear to.
To keep the sugar in return.
This time, milk in hand.
He pulls out a different picture.
“Mama vote for this one.”
I’m puzzled. Confused.
Ignorance written all over my face.
“That one of yesterday is a fool.” He justifies.
“Sawa sawa tu mwanangu.” I confusedly assure him.
I remember you, my son.
If only you were here to advise me
To guide in my illiteracy.
If only you hadn’t allowed
Yourself to be married by
This thing they call
A compchuta.
They manipulate me
They exploit me
They scorn me:
“The motherless one.” They call me
[Teardrops]
They capitalise on my old age
My illiteracy
My ignorance.
They’ve taken the little left of me
et al.
If only you were here my son.
If only you understood my pains
My tribulations, my predicament.
If only you understood
How I feel now.
Let me see you again
With these old eyes.
That I may hold you
That I may hug you
That I may feel like a mother. Again!
That I may stand tall and scream:
“THIS IS MY BLOOD…MY SON!!!”
That I share that achievement with you
Boast about you. Brag about you…
How I wish you could make this happen,
How I wish you could come.
How I wish you could heed my plea.
How I long to hold you once more,
How I wish I knew…
[Sob. Sob. Sob….]
Then I wouldn’t have toiled
Hard to see you
Achieve the best. The excellent. The impossible
Of the white man’s education.
Do this to me.
[Sob]…
[Sob]…
[Sobs]…
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