A peaceful Sunday morning turned chaotic for Azizi as he was brought to the emergency room. He was in agony, bleeding, and had huge bite marks on him, mostly on his arms and legs. He claimed it was a Boerboel that attacked him, but the doctors doubted the validity of his story due to the size of the wounds.

Meanwhile, the police received an anonymous tip suggesting that a wild animal might be on the loose in the city after having bitten someone. The tipster provided the police with the address of an apartment in Langa, Cape Town. Upon arrival, the police heard a menacing growl coming from inside through the front door. Eager to investigate, they made their way to the apartment next door, grabbed a drill, and started making tiny holes in the wall to peek inside. To their shock, they were met with the unexpected sight of a 200-kilogram African lion lounging in the Langa apartment. The pressing question was: How on earth did the king of the jungle end up there?

Back to Azizi, a 31-year-old part-time driver for a ride-sharing company who had a strong love for animals. He went to the extent of illegally acquiring an infant Cape baboon and a lion cub from an exotic animal trainer in Cape Town and bringing them to live with him in his government-subsidised apartment in Langa. Azizi already had a ball python named Sly living with him in his apartment, and now he also has a Cape baboon and a lion. What could possibly go wrong?

When Azizi acquired the Cape baboon, it was unwell, leading to a short life span. Sadly, the baboon passed away shortly after, but the lion cub survived. Azizi named the cub Shiba and raised him in his apartment, providing him with his own room, a sandbox to play in, and transitioning him to solid food. Their bond grew strong, making them the best of friends.

After two and a half years had passed, Shiba had outgrown his cub days. He had transformed into a 200-kilograms king of the beasts, yet he still resided in that government-subsidised apartment with Azizi and Sly. Azizi supposedly fed him 8 to 10-kilograms of chicken daily, considering his massive size. Lions sure do have an appetite!

If you thought a man and a giant lion sharing an apartment was a recipe for disaster, you wouldn't be alone. However, against all odds, everything was actually going perfectly well.

It was a regular day until Azizi encountered a stray house cat lingering right outside his doorstep. Driven by his affection for animals, he welcomed the cat into his home, adopted him, and lovingly named him Shadow. To ensure Shadow's comfort, Azizi arranged a special room for him, away from Shiba.

After about three weeks, Azizi and Shiba were playfully wrestling, their usual way of playing together. Suddenly, Shadow emerged from his room, and Shiba, catching a glimpse of him, immediately switched into wild animal mode. He sprang into action, pursuing Shadow relentlessly around the place in an attempt to capture and eliminate him. Azizi quickly reacted by positioning himself between Shiba and Shadow, only to end up being tackled by Shiba. Azizi held onto him tightly to prevent him from going after Shadow, but that's when Shiba latched onto Azizi's neck, then his arm, and finally clamped down on his knee, refusing to release his grip.

Azizi found himself in a precarious situation when his knee ended up in the mouth of an African lion. The tense standoff lasted for two long minutes before Shiba decided to release him. Feeling remorseful, Shiba quickly sought refuge in the bathroom. In great pain, Azizi was forced to dial for paramedics, who quickly transported him to the hospital. It was then that he fabricated a story about a Boerboel attack, worried that they would uncover Shiba and take his lion away.

Back at the neighbour's place, the police officers gazed through the hole they had created in the wall and were startled to find a fully-grown lion lounging inside. "Yoh, yoh, yooh!" the officers exclaimed in disbelief. Now, they needed to brainstorm a strategy to safely remove this 200-kilograms beast without becoming its next meal.

A police officer rappelled down the building with a tranquillizer gun in hand. Upon reaching the apartment window, he glimpsed Shiba inside. Taking aim through the bars, he fired a dart, striking Shiba on the shoulder.

Shiba's reaction was clear: he was not happy with the situation, leading him to get angry and charge at the window, repeatedly slamming against it. Fortunately, Shiba eventually succumbed to the tranquillizer, and the police were able to safely remove both Shiba and Sly from Azizi's apartment before relocating them. As expected, Azizi was taken into custody.

Charged with reckless endangerment and keeping wild animals without the proper permit, he was convicted and handed a fifteen-month prison term after a court hearing.

Sly, the ball python, was rehoused in a snake sanctuary in Cape Town, and Shiba was moved to an animal sanctuary in Paarl, where he had the opportunity to run and play with other big cats, including lions.

Until the age of nineteen years and four months, Shiba lived in that location, a significant lifespan in lion years. Sadly, he eventually passed away from natural causes.

Shadow was never seen again.

"Now that I knew fear, I also knew it was not permanent. As powerful as it was, its grip on me would loosen. It would pass."

Louise Erdrich, The Round House

Quick Reads

Love In The Skies
Kourtney was absolutely passionate about skydiving, to the point where she would leave her husband and kids at home every weekend just to soar through the skies. With Theodorer as her skydyving partner, their shared passion for jumping out of planes soon led to a deep connection and a love story that unfolded in the skies every weekend, sharing intimate moments.

Kourtney eagerly anticipated each upcoming weekend to steal some time with Theodore. Little did she know that Theodore was also involved with another woman, Gwen, who was an avid skydiver and deeply infatuated with him. Gwen was aware of Theodore's relationship with Kourtney and was not pleased. Determined to remove Kourtney from the equation, she set out to make it happen.

Gwen's attempts to sabotage Kourtney's affair with Theodore were all in vain. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't seem to put an end to Kourtney's affair with Theodore. The anonymous letters and creepy phone calls only added to Gwen's frustration. The situation was made even more challenging by the fact that Gwen and Kourtney were friends who shared thrilling skydiving adventures.

Gwen and Theodore had a lovely dinner out one evening, but when they returned to Theodore's place, they were greeted by a surprise: Kourtney was there, ready to spend the night with Theodore. Gwen had to keep her composure and spend time with both of them, hiding her feelings of jealousy. The night took an unexpected turn, with everyone finding themselves crashing at Theodore's place. Kourtney and Theodore shared the bed, while Gwen made do with a sleeping bag on the living room floor.

Gwen found herself sprawled on the living room floor, overwhelmed with frustration. In a sudden burst of anger, she jumped to her feet and grabbed a pair of scissors. Without a second thought, she began dismantling Kourtney's skydiving equipment that was lying nearby. She meticulously cut through the parachute, removing the pilot chute and severing the crucial straps.

Two weeks later, Kourtney, Theodore, and Gwen were all geared up for a thrilling skydiving experience with a larger group. As they soared up in the plane, excitement filled the air. They leaped out and formed a perfect formation, but disaster struck when Kourtney's parachute failed to open. Despite her skydiving expertise, fear crept in as she frantically tried to release her reserve chute. With no luck, she plummeted over two and a half kilometres to the ground. Down below, a woman in her yard suddenly heard a crash and went to check. She discovered Kourtney in the bushes, and it was clear that Kourtney didn't make it. The police got involved and took Kourtney's parachute to a parachute expert for investigation. Without delay, the expert concluded that the parachute was tampered with. He also pointed out that the pilot chute was missing.

One morning Gwen unexpectedly showed up at the police station with the missing pilot chute, claiming that Kourtney's gear was not sabotaged. However, her actions raised suspicion when the police realised that they had never disclosed the missing pilot chute to anyone. When questioned about how she knew about it, Gwen's refusal to provide details landed her at the top of the suspects list.

Following additional police investigation, it was discovered that Gwen, Kourtney, and Theodore were involved in a love triangle. It was revealed that Gwen had spent the night in Theodore's living room, near Kourtney's skydiving gear. She was found guilty at trial and sentenced to 25 years in prison for sabotaging Kourtney's parachute, leading to her death.
Lost At Sea
As the elderly couple looked on, they witnessed a peculiar sight: a man crawling through the sand. He was naked, barely able to stand, clutching a knife, and shouting something in a language they couldn't comprehend.

Willem, a fearless fisherman who braved the dangers of the deep sea to reel in Geelbek and Cape Snoek along the cold Atlantic waters. One morning, he made the spontaneous decision to embark on a two-day fishing escapade. With his usual fishing buddy unavailable, he sought out a replacement. That's when a young and inexperienced angler named Ashley eagerly stepped up to the challenge. Together, Willem and Ashley set sail on the Atlantic waters.

Over the course of two days, they dedicated themselves to fishing and managed to accumulate a total of 500 kilograms of fish. This impressive catch would bring in a tidy profit once they returned home, equivalent to a week's earnings. Unfortunately, their journey back took an unexpected twist as they set sail homeward. Without warning, a massive storm descended upon them, filling the boat with water. Panicked, Ashley grabbed a bucket to scoop out the water while Willem fought to steer through the turbulent waves. Luckily, the storm eventually subsided, revealing land on the horizon.

They were approximately two hours from the shore when the boat's engine began to stutter and eventually stopped. Willem quickly grabbed a two-way radio and contacted his boss to inform him about the engine failure. His boss enquired about their location, but their GPS had malfunctioned. As if things couldn't get any worse, the storm began to gather strength, causing the boat to be violently tossed around by towering waves, lifting them up to 10 meters high before dropping them back down. Upon realising that the 500 kilograms of fish they had caught were making the boat unstable, Willem made the decision to dump it all out. They continued to throw overboard anything else that was not useful, such as extra ice and fuel, in order to lighten the load and restore stability to the boat.

When the two-way radio suddenly went silent, Willem and Ashley had already been working tirelessly to remove water from the boat for a couple of hours. Despite their best efforts, the engine remained stubbornly inactive. Willem's anger boiled over; he was seething with rage and completely lost control. He grabbed a club typically used for killing fish and violently smashed the boat's engine. In a fit of frustration, he tossed the dead GPS and radio into the water.

With nightfall and dropping temperatures, the two men had no choice but to huddle under an overturned cooler for warmth and shelter.

Meanwhile, back on land, a search party was organised to find the missing duo. However, the relentless storm continued to rage on, making visibility extremely poor. After three days of fruitless searching, the decision was made to call off the search.

Five more days dragged on before the storm ceased its fury. Willem and Ashley were left disoriented, realising they were in the middle of nowhere. Hunger gnawed at their stomachs, and there was no food or water left on the boat. With Willem's tools lost at sea, he had to improvise. He spent time honing his skills at catching fish with his bare hands. They had no choice but to eat their catch raw and drink their own urine to stay alive.

One fortunate day, a seabird landed on their boat, giving them a stroke of luck. Willem wasted no time in seizing the opportunity and swiftly took the bird's life. They managed to sustain themselves by consuming the bird for a couple of days until rain finally poured down, allowing them to gather water to drink. For approximately two months, they survived by eating raw fish and collecting rainwater whenever possible.

With each passing day, Ashley underwent a transformation that deeply affected his demeanor. Sinking into a state of despair, he rejected any form of sustenance. The mere idea of consuming raw animals repulsed him to the point where he abandoned eating entirely. His condition worsened, prompting Willem and Ashley to fear the worst. In a desperate move, they made a pact: if Willem survives, he will reach out to Ashley's mother with a message intended exclusively for her. He reluctantly agreed to the plan.

One rainy morning, following over three months of being adrift at sea, Ashley succumbed to starvation. Willem was heartbroken to find himself alone. The bond they had formed during their harrowing ordeal was strong, leaving Willem feeling incredibly isolated. He found himself conversing with Ashley's lifeless body, unable to let go. After six days, he came to the realisation that it was not healthy to continue pretending the corpse was still alive.

He shoved Ashley's lifeless body into the ocean, then continued to survive on his boat adrift at sea. Another month passed, and Willem was still there, living off the land, catching fish, drinking rainwater, and talking to birds and dead fish.

Suddenly, Willem spotted a new type of bird - not the usual seabirds, but land birds. In the distance, he could make out a mountaintop, which turned out to be connected to an island. It was a glimmer of hope that maybe he could keep his word and deliver the message to Ashley's mother.

The island was approximately an hour away, and Willem steered his boat in its direction. As he neared, he plunged into the water and swam for dear life to the shore. Upon reaching it, he found himself too feeble to stand, completely unclothed, and armed with a knife for safety. He laboriously crawled onto the beach and into the jungle, where he came across a house occupied by an elderly couple. They saw him crawling around naked with a knife, shouting in Afrikaans. The elderly couple ended up helping him get to the hospital.

So what is this island that Willem finally landed on after being lost at sea for more than four months? Willem had drifted almost 2800 kilometres all the way from coastal Cape Town to the Tristan da Cunha island.

A month later, after being rescued and coming back to Cape Town, South Africa, he paid a visit to Ashley's mother and was able to pass along Ashley's last message to her.

His incredible story landed him a book deal, but then Ashley's family sued him for two million rands, claiming half of the book sales.

O fleece, that down the neck waves to the nape!
O curls! O perfume nonchalant and rare!
O ecstasy! To fill this alcove shape
With memories that in these tresses sleep,
I would shake them like penions in the air!

Languorous Asia, burning Africa,
And a far world, defunct almost, absent,
Within your aromatic forest stay!
As other souls on music drift away,
Mine, O my love! still floats upon your scent.

I shall go there where, full of sap, both tree
And man swoon in the heat of the southern climates;
Strong tresses be the swell that carries me!
I dream upon your sea of amber
Of dazzling sails, of oarsmen, masts, and flames:

A sun-drenched and reverberating port,
Where I imbibe colour and sound and scent;
Where vessels, gliding through the gold and moire,
Open their vast arms as they leave the shore
To clasp the pure and shimmering firmament.

I'll plunge my head, enamored of its pleasure,
In this black ocean where the other hides;
My subtle spirit then will know a measure
Of fertile idleness and fragrant leisure,
Lulled by the infinite rhythm of its tides!

Pavilion, of autumn-shadowed tresses spun,
You give me back the azure from afar;
And where the twisted locks are fringed with down
Lurk mingled odors I grow drunk upon
Of oil of coconut, of musk, and tar.

A long time! always! my hand in your hair
Will sow the stars of sapphire, pearl, ruby,
That you be never deaf to my desire,
My oasis and my gourd whence I aspire
To drink deep of the wine of memory.

Charles Baudelaire

Bookshelf

Amplifying phenomenal women from across the African continent and its global diaspora as they speak to empowering, experimental, and inspirational experiences of sex, sexuality, and relationships.

Nana Darkoa Sekyiamah

In seven stories, Haruki Murakami uses his keen observational skills to examine the lives of men who, in various ways, are alone.
Stories about disappearing cats, smoke-filled bars, mysterious women, lonely hearts, baseball, and the Beatles are interwoven here to create a universally relatable tale.

Haruki Murakami

When you let go, you live intuitively. You are no longer tied to things having to be a specific way, to being a certain person, or to always being correct, therefore everything flows. How nice it is. Ironically, when you feel stuck in any aspect of your life - be it relationships, work, finances, or health - you feel trapped. letting go can seem impossible - You cling on for dear life just when you need to take the leap.

John Purkiss

At fourteen, Adunni dreams of getting an education and giving her family a more comfortable home in her small Nigerian village. Instead, Adunni's father sells her off to become the third wife of an old man. When tragedy strikes in her new home, Adunni flees to the wealthy enclaves of Lagos, where she becomes a housegirl to the cruel Big Madam and prey to Big Madam's husband. But despite her situation continuously going from bad to worse, Adunni refuses to let herself be silenced. And one day, someone hears her.

Abi Dare

Awesome adventures of African children with colorful drawings

Ulli finds a friend at the Saturday market, where he sells oranges.
Amina learns from her aunt how to make tie-dyed material.
Ojo the dream monster
Dondo saves his village from a terrible sandstorm.
Nandi meets her grandma in a dream.
Chinere receives seven magic stones on her wedding day.
Ali helps build a new schoolhouse in the middle of the jungle.
Saku stumbles on a magic medicine man who can read his thoughts.
Punji falls from his canoe into the lagoon and almost drowns.
Miriam dances for Grandma at the big family party.

Carin Holmqvist

"This work has been selected by scholars as being culturally important and is part of the knowledge base of civilization as we know it.
This work is in the public domain in the United States of America, and possibly other nations. Within the United States, you may freely copy and distribute this work, as no entity (individual or corporate) has a copyright on the body of the work.
Scholars believe, that this work is important enough to be preserved, reproduced, and made generally available to the public. To ensure a quality reading experience, this work has been proofread and republished using a format that seamlessly blends the original graphical elements with text in an easy-to-read typeface."

Frederick William Dodds

A masterpiece from a giant of African literature. Things Fall Apart recreates African tribal life before Christianity and shows how the coming of the white man led to the breaking up of the old ways.

Chinua Achebe

From the award-winning author of Kintu comes a stunning story of a feminist coming-of-age.

Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi

These African fables are part of the traditional folklore of African peoples in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Botswana, and Gabon. African culture is enriched by such lessons that provide universal wisdom and instruction for all of us no matter what our culture or background. To improve the lesson, each story is accompanied by a cartoon and an African proverb or saying. Although these stories are meant for elementary school students, they can be used with children of all ages.

Eudene Keidel

"The pioneers in my family went to Rhodesia just before the Boer War in 1896, travelling on one of the first trains to Bulawayo. My father and uncle left home in 1928 going up to Northern Rhodesia to work on the copper mines. My grandfather opened up new gold mines in Penelonga and built the house at Manchester Gardens in the Eastern Highlands of Rhodesia. He ranched, mined, gambled and raised a family of five boys and a girl in an Africa that was very wild and primitive. My great grandfather was born in England, travelled in the Wild West of America before ending up in Cape Town where his daughter married my grandfather and travelled north. My mother arrived in Africa from England in 1936 under the auspices of the 1820 settlers club and travelled up to Northern Rhodesia where she met my father. My friends and I went to boarding school in Lusaka and many of us went on to achieve great things in life. The mining towns of the Copperbelt and the many old characters that lived in Rhodesia form a large part of the backdrop of my life. My wife, on an impulse, accepted a job with the copper mines in Zambia in 1968 as a young girl. She knew many of the characters in these stories and knows how likely the unlikely tales are. Out of all this comes a wealth of reality and myth that cannot possibly go untold."

Edgar E. Evans

"If sharks were men," Mr. K. was asked by his landlady's little girl, "would they be nicer to the little fishes?"

"Certainly," he said. "If sharks were men, they would build enormous boxes in the ocean for the little fish, with all kinds of food inside, both vegetable and animal. They would take care that the boxes always had fresh water, and in general they would make all kinds of sanitary arrangements. If, for example, a little fish were to injure a fin, it would immediately be bandaged so that it would not die and be lost to the sharks before its time. So that the little fish would not become melancholy, there would be big water festivals from time to time because cheerful fish taste better than melancholy ones.

"There would, of course, also be schools in the big boxes. In these schools, the little fish would learn how to swim into the sharks' jaws. They would need to know geography, for example, so that they could find the big sharks, who lie idly around somewhere. The principal subject would, of course, be the moral education of the little fish. They would be taught that it would be the best and most beautiful thing in the world if a little fish sacrificed itself cheerfully and that they all had to believe the sharks, especially when the latter said they were providing for a beautiful future. The little fish would be taught that this future is assured only if they learnt obedience. The little fish had to beware of all base, materialist, egotistical, and Marxist inclinations, and if one of their number betrayed such inclinations, they had to report it to the sharks immediately.

"If sharks were men, they would, of course, also wage wars against one another in order to conquer other fish boxes and other little fish. The wars would be waged by their own little fish. They would teach their little fish that there was an enormous difference between themselves and the little fish belonging to the other sharks. Little fish, they would announce, are well known to be mute, but they are silent in quite different languages and hence find it impossible to understand one another. Each little fish that, in a war, killed a couple of other little fish, enemy ones, silent in their own language, would have a little order made of seaweed pinned to it and be awarded the title of hero.

"If sharks were men, there would, of course, also be art. There would be beautiful pictures in which the sharks' teeth would be portrayed in magnificent colours and their jaws as pure pleasure gardens, in which one could romp about splendidly. The theatres at the bottom of the sea would show heroic little fish swimming enthusiastically into the jaws of sharks, and the music would be so beautiful that to the accompaniment of its sounds, the orchestra leading the way, the little fish would stream dreamily into the sharks' jaws, lulled by the most agreeable thoughts.

"There would also be a religion if sharks were men. It would preach that little fish only really begin to live properly in the sharks' stomachs.

"Furthermore, if sharks were men, there would be an end to all little fish being equal, as is the case now. Some would be given important offices and be placed above the others. Those who were a little bigger would even be allowed to eat up the smaller ones. That would be altogether agreeable for the sharks, since they themselves would more often get bigger bites to eat. And the bigger little fish, occupying their posts, would ensure order among the little fish, become teachers, officers, engineers in box construction, etc.

"In short, if sharks were men, they would for the first time bring culture to the ocean."

Bertolt Brecht, Stories of Mr Keuner

Poems

Don't let your heart stay broken
Do not stay fixated on what could have been
Focus on all that was deep

Be thankful you smiled
Be thankful you cried
And be thankful you loved and were loved
Because no magician is strong enough to conjure the magic you've created

So don't let your heart stay broke
Don't focus on the darkness
Or things that did not last
Don't look back at your pas
When your future is that bright..

Robiin M

What is Africa to me:
Copper sun or scarlet sea,
Jungle star or jungle track,
Strong bronzed men, or regal black
Women from whose loins I sprang
When the birds of Eden sang?
One three centuries removed
From the scenes his fathers loved,
Spicy grove, cinnamon tree,
What is Africa to me?

So I lie, who all day long
Want no sound except the song
Sung by wild barbaric birds
Goading massive jungle herds,
Juggernauts of flesh that pass
Trampling tall defiant grass
Where young forest lovers lie,
Plighting troth beneath the sky.
So I lie, who always hear,
Though I cram against my ear
Both my thumbs, and keep them there,
Great drums throbbing through the air.
So I lie, whose fount of pride,
Dear distress, and joy allied,
Is my somber flesh and skin,
With the dark blood dammed within
Like great pulsing tides of wine
That, I fear, must burst the fine
Channels of the chafing net
Where they surge and foam and fret.

Africa?A book one thumbs
Listlessly, till slumber comes.
Unremembered are her bats
Circling through the night, her cats
Crouching in the river reeds,
Stalking gentle flesh that feeds
By the river brink; no more
Does the bugle-throated roar
Cry that monarch claws have leapt
From the scabbards where they slept.
Silver snakes that once a year
Doff the lovely coats you wear,
Seek no covert in your fear
Lest a mortal eye should see;
What's your nakedness to me?
Here no leprous flowers rear
Fierce corollas in the air;
Here no bodies sleek and wet,
Dripping mingled rain and sweat,
Tread the savage measures of
Jungle boys and girls in love.
What is last year's snow to me,
Last year's anything? The tree
Budding yearly must forget
How its past arose or setญญ
Bough and blossom, flower, fruit,
Even what shy bird with mute
Wonder at her travail there,
Meekly labored in its hair.
One three centuries removed
From the scenes his fathers loved,
Spicy grove, cinnamon tree,
What is Africa to me?

So I lie, who find no peace
Night or day, no slight release
From the unremittent beat
Made by cruel padded feet
Walking through my body's street.
Up and down they go, and back,
Treading out a jungle track.
So I lie, who never quite
Safely sleep from rain at night--
I can never rest at all
When the rain begins to fall;
Like a soul gone mad with pain
I must match its weird refrain;
Ever must I twist and squirm,
Writhing like a baited worm,
While its primal measures drip
Through my body, crying, "Strip!
Doff this new exuberance.
Come and dance the Lover's Dance!"
In an old remembered way
Rain works on me night and day.

Quaint, outlandish heathen gods
Black men fashion out of rods,
Clay, and brittle bits of stone,
In a likeness like their own,
My conversion came high-priced;
I belong to Jesus Christ,
Preacher of humility;
Heathen gods are naught to me.

Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
So I make an idle boast;
Jesus of the twice-turned cheek,
Lamb of God, although I speak
With my mouth thus, in my heart
Do I play a double part.
Ever at Thy glowing altar
Must my heart grow sick and falter,
Wishing He I served were black,
Thinking then it would not lack
Precedent of pain to guide it,
Let who would or might deride it;
Surely then this flesh would know
Yours had borne a kindred woe.
Lord, I fashion dark gods, too,
Daring even to give You
Dark despairing features where,
Crowned with dark rebellious hair,
Patience wavers just so much as
Mortal grief compels, while touches
Quick and hot, of anger, rise
To smitten cheek and weary eyes.
Lord, forgive me if my need
Sometimes shapes a human creed.

All day long and all night through,
One thing only must I do:
Quench my pride and cool my blood,
Lest I perish in the flood.
Lest a hidden ember set
Timber that I thought was wet
Burning like the dryest flax,
Melting like the merest wax,
Lest the grave restore its dead.
Not yet has my heart or head
In the least way realized
They and I are civilized.

Countee Cullen

One of the last (if not the last) of Africa's
tallest trees has fallen
Yes, Kofi Anan breathes no more
Death has stolen one of the last true sons of the soil
Death has stolen one of the last of Africa's favorite sons
Africa is weeping!
Africa is mourning!
Africa is weeping!
Africa is mourning!

One who was an embodiment of integrity is no more
Africa is mourning!
One who was Africa's pride and joy breathes no more
Africa is inconsolable!
One who was a compass of morality is late
Africa is weeping!

Oh Africa! Was Kofi your last born?
Is any of your favorite sons still alive?
Corruption is rampant
Integrity is not in any of our leaders vocabulary
Moral decay stinks up to the heavens
God and His angels must be closing their noses.

You join your fellow brothers
You join other favorite sons of Africa
You join Jomo Kenyatta
You join Patrice Lumumba
You join Julius Nyerere
You join Steve Biko
You join Nelson Mandela
One of Africa's tallest trees has fallen
Kofi Anan breathes no more.

Qiniso Mogale

Dance, dance!
With the muse of Africa;
Tap, tap!
With the rhythm of Africa;
Moving your body and,
Moving your steps;
To the sounds and cultures of the various tribes in Africa.
Dance, dance!
To the rhythm of Africa;
Tap, tap!
With the movements of the muse of Africa;
To a continent of nature's muse,
To a continent of multi-languages,
To a continent full of colours!
Fron North, South, East and West;
Come to Africa and see things for yourselves.
Rhythm of Africa,
Rhythm of various customs and cultures,
Rhythm of the various countries in Africa,
Rhythm of the animals,
With the beauty of nature as seen around.
Dance, dance!
Dance with the steps and shake your body;
To the rhythm of Africa touching your heart and soul.
Tap, tap!
With the movements of the muse of Africa;
Rhythm of Africa!
With the muse of various races in Africa;
Expressing their cultures and customs to the muse of the rhythm of Africa.

Edward Kofi Louis

A wind is ruffling the tawny pelt
Of Africa, Kikuyu, quick as flies,
Batten upon the bloodstreams of the veldt.
Corpses are scattered through a paradise.
Only the worm, colonel of carrion, cries:
'Waste no compassion on these separate dead!'
Statistics justify and scholars seize
The salients of colonial policy.
What is that to the white child hacked in bed?
To savages, expendable as Jews?
Threshed out by beaters, the long rushes break
In a white dust of ibises whose cries
Have wheeled since civilizations dawn
From the parched river or beast-teeming plain.
The violence of beast on beast is read
As natural law, but upright man
Seeks his divinity by inflicting pain.
Delirious as these worried beasts, his wars
Dance to the tightened carcass of a drum,
While he calls courage still that native dread
Of the white peace contracted by the dead.

Again brutish necessity wipes its hands
Upon the napkin of a dirty cause, again
A waste of our compassion, as with Spain,
The gorilla wrestles with the superman.
I who am poisoned with the blood of both,
Where shall I turn, divided to the vein?
I who have cursed
The drunken officer of British rule, how choose
Between this Africa and the English tongue I love?
Betray them both, or give back what they give?
How can I face such slaughter and be cool?
How can I turn from Africa and live?

Derek Walcott

Millions queued in lines before Arbiter Of Disputes.
Hopes were high,
Duty and resolve holding firm.
Hearts dance with spirit of Emancipation,
Each with ammo stronger than bullet,
Ready to dislodge a fiendish cabal out of Power.
All conscious of the long night of tribulation.
Singly, the weapons were discharged
Into The Receptacle Of Liberty;
Upon which they received baptisms of Freedom.
Inside the altar tugs of war ensued:
Invisible fibres bound and aligned aspirations.
Popular Will prevailed.
Bearing the scars of Apartheid,
Indigenous people celebrate the birth of Democracy.
Ballot Box had come at a great expense;
At all costs its sacredness shall be preserved.
Those were the surviving heroes and heroines of Mzansi.

Chinedu Dike

The sun sought thy dim bed and brought forth light,
The sciences were sucklings at thy breast;
When all the world was young in pregnant night
Thy slaves toiled at thy monumental best.
Thou ancient treasure-land, thou modern prize,
New peoples marvel at thy pyramids!
The years roll on, thy sphinx of riddle eyes
Watches the mad world with immobile lids.
The Hebrews humbled them at Pharaoh's name.
Cradle of Power! Yet all things were in vain!
Honor and Glory, Arrogance and Fame!
They went. The darkness swallowed thee again.
Thou art the harlot, now thy time is done,
Of all the mighty nations of the sun.

Claude McKay

No end of story has been told, several legends have been born; tiny runnels have wiped out into the Nile; massive water courses had gorged the Indian and the Atlantic.

Africa is the native land of all mankind species, our cherished fatherland is the continent of Africa; you are always welcome to Africa.

Jewels are found in the stain atop, pure beauty is found in our hearts; giving hope with full-blown vision.

For many people of the world, Africa is time and again seen through a spare monocle, purified curtain abodes of indigence, deprivation, illness, dearth, and blues.

Yes, we have our threat, it's true, but we are a people of physiques, resilience and faith; African elevation comes alive as a cloud nine.

Africa is a continent of countries, clans, of peoples; each with its olden days, its voice, its rainbows; its bounty of rituals, the diversity of its arts; and the charm of its civilization.

Africa is a nook of titanic conceivable of chow that is appetizing, fervent and sweet; Africa is not a spot of shadows, but a distance of light of a nightmare and opportunity; Africa is not a hole of pity, but a place of influence and self-respect.

We are the offshoot of a proud continent, Africa is where the sun steps up and bents with a scorching effulgence; making it a place where every day is a sunny season.

Yousif Ibrahim Abubaker Abdalla

Colonialism in its last moments is pushed to the centre stage -
the recoiling phenomenon intensely illuminated
by The Flame Of Liberty.
Roused by the prospect of emancipatory freedom,
from the shadows of Servitude, nations rise.
Their demand for a dawn long on hold
brings an end to the colonial yoke.

Her soul refreshed with a breath of new life,
Africa thrills at the sight of the expanding horizons -
an euphoria feelings that veiled 'Danger Signs'.
She's been bequeathed dreadful webs of intrigue:
Uneasy amalgams of multicultural colonial territories,
hitherto upheld through coercive mechanisms.

With price tags of 'patriots' hanging on won Liberty,
they bicker over the vacated Seat Of Power.
In their snobbery of honour in favour of greed,
strategic realignments of comrades produce
The Strongman: A tyrant - backed by 'jackals'
and supported by gullible public.

In a cruel twist of fate, hopeful assertion of self-rule
soon becomes the anticipation of a gaudy illusion.
The exit of Foreign Powers has delivered the people
into the grasps of Democratic Mobs:
Cabals fueled by putrid sludge of Kleptocracy,
devoid of political visions to transform into realities.

With no intent of restructuring imposed alien models,
cabals pursue joint criminal enterprises:
Good citizens are sieved out of the system,
party loyalists take over their place.
Key positions go to ruthless operators,
who translate decisions into actions.

Vast network of political jobbers across tribes are bought;
Political parties become private estates;
Police remains agent of The State;
Legislative bodies are subdued;
With the Judiciary effectively hijacked,
the oppressed has no where to seek redress.
Ultimately The Liberators Turn Into Oppressors.

Haven subverted Power Of The People
which has raised them to unfair dominion;
In frenzied torrents of greed without care,
Opportunistic Banditry is institutionalized.
In a matter of months raging economic crises follow.
And attempts to curb budget deficits upset lives,
sending an already violated citizenry
on a sad voyage into poverty.

In their scheme for hegemony, struggle credentials with
membership of the ruling party, are made the
prerequisites for political and economic ascendancy.
Their capitalist tendency reinvents imperialism.
With nepotism and sectionalism proclivity, parochial
appointments skewed towards specific groups are made.

Ethnic rivalry is promoted as one tribe is favoured above others.
Serious conflicts are provoked with diverse interest groups.
The Freedom Party once the pride of the nation
has turned public enemy number one.
With the powder keg too close to the naked flames,
BANG! It explodes. And the fire burns with a vengeance.
Turmoils of Democratic Anarchy usher in The Military:
Demagogues with perfect sets of iron teeth -
Whose stern miens wore the semblance of an undertaker.
They bait on sentiments of the masses to legitimize regime;
They promise to steer The Ship Of State
to berth on a safe harbour;
They pay lip service to their anti-corruption crusade.
They're the raiders of public treasuries!
They're the violators of Integrity Of The State!
They're the embodiments of rot!

Strategic alliance is built with oligarchs of crafty pretense.
The marriage of convenience symbiotic in its nature:
'You Rub My Back I'll Rub Yours.'
The wooed spiders, with a keen knowledge of the web
assume an oversight for the junta - reinforcing its hold
on power. Their administrative tasks keep the wheels
of government-owned enterprises turning,
thereby maintaining brazen squandering of resources.

In the quest for total control,
with the delusions that match their effronteries;
They unleash an assemblage of horrors:
Prison cells are packed with innocent citizens
picked on the flimsiest of excuses;
Rendition of dissidents tagged 'terrorists' becomes normal.
Curfews are enforced; Checkpoints are mounted;
Visible policing is achieved; With free speech punished,
displeasures are carefully altered in whispers; And
brutality is sold as pragmatic response to increased crime.

The cowardly populace petrified in its sullen expression,
in degrading submission blindly accepts Slavery.
Assets of nations are then plundered with impunity;
Ill-gotten moneys are laundered to different offshore heavens;
Treacherously, patrimonies are secretly being transferred
abroad, and governments turn around to ask for loans
on the very funds illicitly moved.

Post-colonial Africa is a continent marred with endemic conflicts;
Human Rights abuses of monumental proportions;
The entrenched lack of accountability within governments;
Shameful history of nationalized thefts by those in high places;
Quests for power at all costs - with Heads of States
holding on to power even when circumstances dictate otherwise.

Since Independence Africa has continued to stagnate
while the rest of the world have forged ahead.
But she ought to be thriving well!

She has an unrivaled wild life conducive to tourism;
Pristine ecosystem with endless stretches of fertile lands;
Rare incidences of natural disasters;
Resilient hardworking population;
Her prospects for hydroelectric supply is second to none.

She is hugely blessed with diverse mineral resources.
No other continent is endowed with as much!
Yet notoriously, Africa with such fortunes and potentials
relentlessly wallows in the throes of economic woes.

Chinedu Dike

Africa, Our Africa

Africa of Green and Black, of colors in between
Africa of people, of love and light, from within

Africa of ethnics and languages, of long told history
Africa of cultures and traditions, a rich tapestry.

Africa of strife and victory through colonial time
Africa of struggle through imperial crime

Africa of war, both tribal and civil
Africa of peace, condemning evil

Africa of hope, freedom and liberation
Africa of growth, of change and innovation

Africa of then: men, women - slaves to capture
Africa of now: men, women - reclaiming our valor!

Muna Zee

Comments


Awesome, good read!
Nov 19, 2024

Shiba was tamed until he was not. So Shadow varnished into thin air ๐Ÿค”

I can't find The Republic ๐Ÿ˜ญ๐Ÿ˜ข
Nov 11, 2024

I remember reading "The Republic" from this website but now I can't find it. ๐Ÿ˜ข๐Ÿ˜ข

Enjoyed reading Love is blind
Oct 11, 2024

In Love is blind, Layla should have left Raymond immediately after the first incident. Or maybe Raymond used muthi ๐Ÿ˜ƒ

My go to nook for quick reads
Oct 07, 2024

Interesting reads. I enjoy the games as well

Love in the skies
Sep 25, 2024

Cheating Koutney, she cheated to her demies. Lessons to be learned. If only she remained loyal to her husband.

Love is blind
Sep 11, 2024

Rayray is a savage.

Love triangle
Sep 09, 2024

I enjoyed Love In The Skies. ... I can relate :(

The Republic - Part 2 ???
Aug 24, 2024

Mzizi wa Kenya

Love is blind indeed
Aug 11, 2024

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