My eyes trail your curvy path
As you envelope the city,
My heart skips at the green lush lawn
that plasters the rolling hills of Kigali.
You provide the meeting point with the
light blue skies;
confluence of our earth and the celestial.
You are the forte for the city,
breathing life’s goodness to the people
The sweetness of your many ridges
Pokes my sensation.
In quiet sophistication
you romance my sight.
My feet tremble at your posture.
Oh hills of Kigali, your beauty tickles my being.
~ Akindélé O. Olunlọyọ
The wind from the South is hot
I feel and see a windfall of intolerance.
This windmill is powered by unseen,
hateful but powerful hands.
The windfall of destruction is heavy.
All around me, it is wind of death.
My windows are shaking; my feet feverish –
at the sight and sound of angry ‘protesters’ marching towards me.
From Tshwane to Joburg,
the cry is loud and deep
as Cities take turns to torment me.
Children from Abidjan to Lagos
are crying out loud:
when will the windstorm stop?
The women’s hearts are pounding & asking:
who will be our windshield?
And when will this script windup?
Behold Africa’s beauty
A land strong in duty
With striking charm of diversity.
Listen to the health in her stories.
Her communal material wealth
spoken through fulsome vessels.
Through the ages
she mothered a world of plenteous sages
of genetic assortments.
Africa, my Africa