Prose Poetry

Descendants of an African Adam

For I read and quote: “Even though I walk through the valley of shadows of death, I fear no evil.”

But in turn no evil will fear me? No evil will fear us in this black negro space? Where we run away from shadows not to think of a death race. African Adam! Why leave your descendants on this roller coaster to suffer? We are suffering, black has stopped to fit us so well like it should, we don’t even speak one language, there is a serious diversity in vain but really you or the ones you left to lead, who cursed or caused?

These black Pontiuses and Pilates will feed ruminants, beef and feed men, soilage. But a truth, we live to believe that one so called “Head” is ready to tell us that the last letter from alphabet A is not Z. So why then, what do we live for? When our rightful path leads us astray, African Adam.

Sometimes back, was a scene of reality about a mother, cared for by her mother while she was caring for another mother of a daughter of same blood. Now how to explain? How a so-called jinn of misery has led to opening doors carelessly for male not turn men into shattery, rape, assaults, battery, of young females who become women in stance with no one to cater, feeding on what they see, seafood or sometimes see but no food?

So these women come down with diseases, illnesses, afflictions then when it spreads, ‘gorvarmentz‘ will get excess money, giving less to medics to prevent without even finding cure, forgetting roots (perhaps some dead), while the rest of the dough is to the pocket. African Adam could you be asleep not to see this Dick and Harry mess caused by and upon your descendants?

The thing you hear from a young lad on the street on approach saying, “Hey, sawobona nnjani,” (How do you do boy?); and then he replied, “Haibo mouth breather, I don’t have your time wena, because how you wanna want me to stop here explain the life wey we and I’m living with mada (mother) and papa who falls every now and then like a sick fowl, and my sister Madea who do not go to jail rather go to city every night to get worked on her vagana to get money feed us because we have nothing and maybe we’ll die with nothing?” is different of what you hear from a popular rich man’s son in Capetown, hybrid, and no mother tongue speaking trait yelling, “I have no freedom, I get locked in every now and then watching Netflix with popsicle, pizza and all of what I want. I don’t even know how it feels outside, I’m bored, I’m young, feels like I wanna die, yet mom and da stay never, I see them not up to twice in a month so what kinda life am I living?” So where do do we find choices wrong?

Even if real men not as said earlier are to be blamed, how would it be cent per cent if they had jobs, if they get enough money to see through needs, if they don’t get motivated towards killing and to be killed, if they had who to truly explain to, how they feel, if they have never been depressed, never been deprived, never been victims to narcissists and chromophobic racists?

I’m not judging, but men would have been I mean real men, better and even become better at roles. But men are to be blamed, let men blame their causes. So what about the promises, what should be of future, la vida loca? When present kills and bids us local? We can always stay sane but sane is ironic, we can only be insane!

So now African Adam, I’ve inscribed this like I’m truly insane, your descendants are having more people day by day, then the evil ones gaining courage and the good ones used as materials toward destruction. But hope assured to still remain in existence, so we pray to the God who made you too, the God who made you an African, the African God. I mentioned not other tribes cause we all have nuturing, a similar vice. To the perfect arm, have you left your powers? Wake up African Adam.

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