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It’s not easy to be called a mother
Discomfort arouse as I embraces you
Ecstasy feelings strikes my heart
Do I need to shed more tears mom?
or sink down the Nile banks to calm fever down
All I need is your smile once again as I embraces you once more
Source of life caring and strength
Mother Africa, when I stand on peak of Mount Kilimanjaro
All that reflects is the ruins
Ruins of your supreme culture that cloud be cherished eternally
The ruins of great amazing jungle that cared wild life harmoniously
Once it was real and remains a history mama Africa
Tears still fall all the time.
Recently is from joy
The joy that ruined brave leaders and persecuted for
Mom mother land, I can feel your bliss, full of freshen air
Well distinguished from that sorrowful bloody air
so terrible well spread over the root,
The blood of innocent generous child
Whose life bravely and well taken by bloody brother
Mom
Mount Kilimanjaro is now a lovely place for picnic
As I sat, I listened to the echo reflecting from the main land mother Africa.
Jubilant ululating sounds, a son of land ever produced
The jubilant joy, genuine joy that springs well from soul of a son of the land
That bliss so different and lovely
Different from the previous one full of explosive machine,
irritating as it separate the love that genuinely exited in those families.
The echo of shout and cry, such restless echo still in stories remains.
Mama!!
Do the Tutsi and Hutu shake hands now?
From such an action,
Mama Africa’s spirits well contented.
That’s all what the spirits aspired.
Such an action could worth all the precious stone mama could afford,
Why coasting such a poor life
once lost never regained.
All mother Africa you are really a mother
you concealed all the unnecessary
What revealed to us is that maternal love of yours
You said forgive and forget; your brother is and still will remain
But the sight of such a scar took memories back in time mom.
Your son mercilessly killing bloody sisters
Evilly abused, mentally indoctrinated with evil intentions
Harm, damaged the unity that once was your worth.
Yet you said hold hand with your brother
The sun of yesterday is gone for good see that of tomorrow
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Branson Shao
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