Tears for mother Zambia

If it were your colonisers, I would understand.

If it were those born many miles away from your soils, I would understand. And if it were those that came just to scramble for your mineral wealth, I would understand.

But I don’t understand.

Your people fought those that colonised you. what for? I don’t understand.

Your people now have self rule. for whose benefit? I don’t understand.

Your people now slice each others throats. for what? I don’t understand.

Oh motherland!

You have lost even the little dignity your colonisers gave to you.

You have lost the meaning and beauty of self rule.

You have lost most of your mineral wealth.

Oh motherland!

Its your people.

Your people fought those that colonised you. A good cause it was. But,

Your people never realised that they weren’t ready. “Ready for what?” you ask.

Your people weren’t ready for self rule.

Oh motherland!

Your people now rule and who benefits?

It’s those that go into office.

Those that go into office forget that you’re hungry.

Those that go into office forget your illiteracy levels.

Those that go into office forget your bad health.

Those that go into office forget that you’re impassable.

“But what do they do while in office?” You ask. Simple, it’s called lip service.

They say schools will be built, but they don’t build any.

Your young ones sit under Mungongo and muzauli trees for their classes,

“their teachers?”, oh my motherland.

The teachers just go there to pass time so that they can get their peanuts at end of the month but what they make out of your children is nothing to write home about.

The children can’t even speak the simplest english without adding “eeeeeeeh” to look for the next sentence in their skopo.

“What about all these schools around?”

Oh, I thought you could still remember, those red brick walls were built by your colonisers together with the red bricks quarters for teachers then, now it’s different, they now build what they call 1X3 blocks with no teachers’ squatters rooms or houses and then a potbellied person will be sent to go and commission and that will be read as news in all radios and showery TVs around the land but this happens once in a lifetime.

They say hospitals will be built, but they don’t and your sick ones are left to fend for themselves because your doctors and nurses prefer leaving your soils for greener pastures.

Your once beautiful hospitals have become stinky, smelly hell halls.

“But what about them, where do they go for treatment?”

Motherland, they fly to other peoples’ clean hospitals. Maybe because they are too ashamed of their stinky ones.

They say roads will be constructed but only impassable ones are constructed, the passable ones are not completed in a lifetime, they take many, many many years to finish.

There is no public transport from one place to the other and most of your children will never see the dawn of civilisation.

They say that the poor will remain or get poorer and the rich will get richer, they forget that their great grandfather was also a poor man.

Oh my motherland, wake up from your slumber!

Its not your colonial masters but your own children.

They have raped and reaped you off your dignity and wealth.

Their bellies become big and round during their tenure of office.

Their cheeks become smooth and shiny as they add pounds of flesh to cover their once protruding cheek bones.

Their wallets become so fat that they send their “savings” abroad.

They are called POLITICIANS.

Like their name, one may mistake it for pollution.

Your soils have been polluted by politicians.

Your children also are becoming more and more polluted by the day because they pretend not to see the harm that’s being done to you.

Oh, my motherland!

Your children now are called “Ba Kandile” because of their bad attitude towards correcting what is wrong.

Your children now prefer to eat what falls from the table of the potbellied ones to correcting wrongs.

Your children now dance to the tune of the politicians such that they don’t question why they should dance but merely ask how fast they should dance.

Oh motherland, can’t you see all this? Shine your eyes!

Look at the common man.

They are starving such that their embossed stomachs can hold gallons of water.

Their cheekbones protrude so much so that one may think that’s where the horns will soon sprout from.

Their wallets! Oh my God! full of useless papers, notes and addresses to be used I don’t know when, maybe in the grave.

“Is this how bad it is?” You ask.

Oh! motherland, there is more to this.

Your children now kill each other.

Your children now kill for wealth.

Your children crave for the other’s teeth.

“Huh! Teeth?”

Yes, even private parts and many other body parts. What?

Yes, they call it rituals.

“And where is the Police?”

The police only arrests the poor and uninfluential.

The police beat up the common man and innocent in the name of law and order.

The police only serve the interest of the politicians maybe because they are all called “poli….”

The police are not any better than the police dogs of the white man.

Oh, my motherland! If you want, tomorrow I will tell you about what they call corruption and other injustices your children are going through if I will live to see tomorrow because the Poli… may soon round me up if they have heard all I said but I won’t regret having told you the truth, my motherland.

Written by: Jerry Sililo

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