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.