Africa slept on the cozy womb of her sacred Ubuntu
That birthed identical triplets of love, peace and unity
Whose allegiance was sworn in the sacred shrines
That was an impeccable court of truth which
Placed victims on the nipping accused box of a haunting conscience
Whose damnation was the karmic kiss worse than an electrocution
And whose innocence was garnished with a red feather of enkindled trust.
Our credo flew from Accra to Lagos through Bamenda
Till it enmeshed the violent tides of the devouring west
That with a muffling gun, uprooted seeds from our shrines of oaths
And planted seeds of votes through fickle ballots.
Truth eluded through the gates of fear
And like a snake slithered through the ballot box.
Today … chaos!
Blood of unwilling martyrs paves the way
For our saints turned vampires to cling
To the gurgling throne from which like the Victoria falls,
The precious liquid inundates the courage of many.
Our politics nests conflicts.
Read – My Stomach First – A Poem by John William Katamba, Uganda
