SHALL WE TELL THE PRESIDENT?
By Kenneth Young-Emretiyoma
Shall we tell the President? The sky is falling. Without a silver spoon, we are no longer at ease; things fall apart.
Though the beggars strike, the beautiful ones are not yet born; it is not yet Uhuru.
Hear, there is no easy walk to freedom. Weep not, child,
But cry, beloved country, with no past, no present, no future.
Why are we so blest?
Shall we tell the President to keep an ear to the ground
And figure out himself how Mr. Frankenstein feeds the dogs of war?
He is too dangerous to be free. Find him, fix him!
Hit ‘em where it hurts.
Shall we tell the President?
He doesn’t need the Chief,
The Honourable Minister, whose only skill
Is dining with Jagua Nana.
He doesn’t need the Interpreters,
Or an Abiku to end the Season of anomy,
And calm the dogs of war.
Shall we tell the President?
The gods are not to blame.
We need no windmills of the gods, nor a ‘man of the people,’
Not Nero or Herod,
But a Daniel with Solomon’s wisdom, Job’s courage, and David’s skill.
Shall we tell the President Nothing lasts Forever?
If tomorrow comes and he is no Master of the Game,
The Arrow of God will pin him ignobly on the Sands of Time.
Zambia shall be free, Ken proclaimed
When will we say to the victims, the swamp dwellers,
And the people of the city,
“Free at last, free at last”?
It’s a long walk to freedom.
Hmm, this Earth, my brother!
