Black was a color of a nation
It was unity against separation
It was us when we understood struggle.
Black was deemed evil and unfit to associate with.
It was duct-tape on the mouths of those with an opinion.
It wasn’t freedom to roam and wander about.
It was a trap in the smallest of places like animals.
Now, black is a color not a nation
Black has lost what made them Black.
Black shuns not in the respect of one another
It forgot the struggles of the previous generations.
It isn’t unity anymore, everyone for yourself.
Safe to say, once we were Black.
My March for Africa
People here are scared and they should be
Presidents hold high to their titles
Africans leading Africa back to its roots
The roots that were weeded out before
From the soil, ripped out from around
They wish to remind them of exploitation
Once again, the people with loans and phones
Emerged since they with-held their earnings
Drew taxes and chewed them thin with whim
Thought they were smart and corrupt like no other
Doing nothing for a 30-year developing country
How much more time do they need
Move from suffering and jobless futures
Evictions for urban, hunger for rural
Where do they face and on whose shoulders
The people here are scared and they should be
Government holds peace in their hands
gripped tight without light in a fist
Spoon feed a little to those who threaten
Their secrets that hurt mother nature herself
The people who march and shout in anger
Do little to scratch the itch forever
The same leaders impeached re-emerge
in a new face who brings water to the thirsty
Who makes believe he understands their pain
Gets up on the title and does it all over again
All Africans who lead are greedy and misleading,
not for good-will, like all others he leads
My hope for them with mine is forsaken
I march in anger with words on a poster
‘Cause the hopeless are driven to damage themselves
And we are hopeless, imagine the pain we will herd.
Selma Haitembu is a high school teacher in Windhoek, the capital city of Namibia. Her writing was published earlier this year in the online journal Fleas on the Dog. She describes her love for any written genre as hypnotic.