The Re-Scramble for Africa


I speak of a round table Conference in Berlin, Germany
Where the so called superpowers divided Africa
The French, Brits, Germans, Portuguese and the rest
Like pieces of meat from a dead cow
They fought like hyenas and vultures
Africans, the carcass, had no values
Barbarians, heathens, scavenges they were
I speak of the lengths went
Imposing themselves on the land
Like a rapist upon its victim
A two year old infant
Whose naivety is his net
A land whose wealth beauty and splendor
Left them all in wonder.
I Speak of the Scramble for Africa
I speak of a crumbled Africa

I speak of World Intellectual Property Organisation
A 21st century Berlin Conference
Where the grandchildren sit daily at WIPO offices
Grandchildren whose grandfathers divided Africa
Now use trademark, patent and Industry Design knives
To Divide up Kiondos and Kikois
The remnants of an Africa whose wealth
Their grandfathers shipped back home as tokens
I speak of the Japanese and the Brits,
Who hide behind the mask of Intellectual Property
But the story is still the same
I speak of the Re-Scramble for Africa
I speak of the legal looting in Africa
I speak of the wanton ravage of Africa

I speak of poverty, whose propensity proves painful
To the Kamba, Kikuyu and Swahili women
Whose source of daily bread has dried like the ground on their feet
I speak of property whose communal value has been passed
From generation to Generation
From our grandmothers who sat outside their huts
With their daughters weaving strings upon strings
Fold upon fold, twist upon twist
Sharing their wisdom of this intricate art
As though it were just a smile
I speak of the pain, the hurt
Of a guest whom they starved to feed
Slept on the floor to shelter
But to whom meaning, moral or value
Was no more greater than a satisfied sexual urge
Greed, with deeds and sheets which purge
Our pride, in names they now own
Our posterity, in items they now clone
I speak of the Re- Scramble for Africa

For how long I ask
How long shall we keep turning the other cheek?
Grumbling and murmuring our disapproval
In low hashed tones, least they hear
And discontinue their borrowed Aid
How long till we grow the balls to fight back
Demanding reparation for slave trade
Demanding the return of our cultural Artifacts
Regesha Hazina,
Regesha Kiondo
Regesha Kikoi
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N.W
April 05, 2007
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