Africa

Published on 31st January 2006

Africa my Africa
Africa of proud warriors in ancestral savannahs
Africa of whom my grandmother sings
On the banks of the distant river
I have never known you
But your blood flows in my veins
Your beautiful black blood that irrigates the fields
The blood of your sweat
The sweat of your work
The work of your slavery
Africa, tell me Africa
Is this your back that is bent
This back that makes under the weight of humiliation
This back trembling with red scars
And saying yes to the whip under the midday sun
But a grave voice answer me
Impetuous child that tree young and strong
That tree over there
Splendidly alone amidst white and faded flowers
That is your Africa springing up anew
Springing up patiently obstinately
Whose fruit bit by bit acquire
The bitter taste of liberty.

These were the words of the poet David Diop (1927-1960). His mother was Cameroonian while his father was Senegalese. He died in a plane crash in 1960, going from France to Senegal. Diop cannot restrain himself under heavy feelings of nostalgia towards Africa. His grandmother too, weighed with age, has made Africa her song. Where shall old people with Africa at heart be found? Where shall young people with Africa at heart be found? Have you ever experienced Africa? In this issue, authors are proud of Africa. They are however sorry that Africa’s back has bent too long under humiliation; but, optimistic that the continent has a bright future. The authors prescribe balms to make Africa spring up and taste liberty, which will come at a price. Let us make Africa “our Africa.”


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