The heroes of Alkebulan once had a window through which they saw the future,

Through time their minds traveled and exhumed the mysteries and realities of the present,

No, they were not prophets, they merely presented us a reality cheque,

Foretelling events unseen in yesteryears which today even the blind at the city of rest can clearly see.

It is a pity!When brothers fail in unity to the penitence of a neo-colonial order, in truth was our black brother’s counsel,

And of how the strangers placed a knife between the things that once held us together,wrote our dear cousin from the land of the eagle.

How could we be so foolish and so blind! How! 

For generations our members slaved in their plantations and yet allowed their kingdom to rule us even unto this day? How!!! 

Where was Ubuntu! Ah…! I think I know just the answer. 

A man, well dressed with promises of vain gain, once visited a few of our patriarchs,

In his deception they accepted bribe from the strangers in exchange for our brothers and sisters who in their prime ended up working in chains,

In chains our mothers wept and like a woman in labor, mother earth groaned in pain at the sight of their bloody tears.  

Who did we offend? None but ourselves, even the heavens gave us plenty. 

Visionless was our great grandfather’s naivety, for that same man, well dressed with promises of vain gain, again paid them visit for an alien rule of Alkebulan,

Desecrating our laws, strangers made us second class citizens in our own land,

Not so in Ethiopia, for there with bravery our brothers fought and like dogs with their tails between their legs they ran. 

Like the serpent of old this man with promises must surely be an emissary from the underworld, for he has stolen the light in our night and defrauded our legal tender,

Polluting the air with the stench of poverty he wines and dines with our leaders and our neighbors, sparing not their workers.

It is sickening! How unwise can we be! How unwise!

And it is he who whispered to our brothers in the Realm of the Free to lose faith and, for a decade, attacked their own from the trenches and bushes of Daru and Zimmi, believing themselves to be freedom fighters,

Alas! The amputation, destruction and shedding of blood; an expression of the aggression of their frustration was wrongly directed all along.

How I wish they had known that it was that man all along!

His deception is deadlier and more costly than that of the strangers. He is clever indeed,

With cunningly devised fable of a good life, he searches for the greedy and entices them with deceit and many his prey. 

Tothis beautiful land of plenty the workmanship of his enterprise brings only lack. 

The tenacity of his audacity knows no bound, even integrity he has challenged to a fight at the Freetown Cotton Tree, but there is an army,

Of warriors trained to fight to the death, more dangerous than the great warriors of Ethiopia who once disgraced the strangers in the battlefield,

In their ranks are gladiators in suit and the scorpion squad that stings with precision, the grand army of the People’s General, they sleep not.

Not unaware that he will fight back, ready they are to fight to the death for their courage has been anchored in the assurance of the triumph of tomorrow, considering not themselves but the next generation unto the fourth. 

Like Rolihlahla of the Madiba Clan, like Bai Bureh the great warrior, they have been summoned to carry the sacred torch of emancipation from lack and misery in this dark cosmopolitan body,

Their duty, that of a patriot who against all odds carries the map that bears the direction to the promised land, simple yet mighty.