Goodbye, Mugabe

[Looking back at this piece, written in November 2017. The coup that was not a coup. In the current day, there is still an unbelievable resilience and joy that makes a Zimbabwean, Zimbabwean. Yet - ongoing economic turmoil overturns the country and makes it very difficult for any business to survive, let alone prosper. This poem was written with Mugabe's name. But perhaps there is nothing personal in the experience of global corruption, greed and politics. All politicians, and I mean beyond Zimbabwe, seem to wear the same cloak in different shades. Or is it a mask? We call for young leadership, for new systems, and for unity and equality. Maybe the time is not now, but surely, surely, it must arrive; the time when leaders will be guided by compassion, and lead with intelligence and heart.]

Do you hear the chanting voices, Mugabe? Suppression now outspoken.

Standing side-by-side, Zimbabwe, courageous and unbroken.

We call you out old man, we have witnessed what you’ve done –

Once strangled by your terror, now we sing as one.

You stood and spat Mugabe; you stripped a nation bare,

You laughed as people fled – Gleamed satisfaction from despair.

You turned emerald fields to ashes, amber soils to a grey sea of neglect,

Colluded stealthily with greed, then watched it’s poison take effect.

Your feet stamped out hospital buildings, once hives of hope and health;

Leaving operations under flickering lights, while you inhaled putrid, seething wealth.

Families fled to borders and schools crumbled with your reign,

But now a nation rise Mugabe – We hold you to that pain.

You saw souls of hungry eyes, stood back and pulled a trigger;

You thought of us as weak, Mugabe, always thought that you were bigger. 

You turned gold to worthless paper, sunk the economy to a blackened, thieving grave

While you watched from your Mercedes, Mugabe – A lavish, tinted cave. 

Now whispers have turned to army trucks, your pedestal must burn

It’s been 37 years old man, you’ve long out-played your turn. 

There is the tremble of the anthem as thousands of voices chant

For all the things that they have hoped for; on behalf of all who can’t. 

When you leave your feet will sting, Mugabe, they will walk on shattered shards of broken

honour

As Zimbabweans stand together and sing – Ndebele, White and Shona.

For the final time: President Robert Gabriel Mugabe.

Nation, be set free.

Simudzai Mureza Wedu WeZimbabwe

African Bones

On an African morning,

Where the half circle becomes whole

Where sun lifts from the source, a rising flame from a bowl

Where yellow grass shimmers beneath bending blue folds

Red soil licks bare feet –

And it sticks to the soul

On an African day,

Where the river rolls like a hymn

Where colours are rich and where wanting wears thin

Where peace lives beneath branches

And branches arch in green praise

Towards the face of the sun

In sepia rays

On an African evening,

Where the African roof is a bougevvilla coloured sky

Where the laughter is deeper and smiles are bright

The voices, that are heavier,

Sing the anthems of light

Where the red dusk of the day gives birth to new night

On an African night,

Where dappled dusk falls and dappled clouds rise

Where Kudus move sleepily and the nightjar cries

Where elephants make thunder and dry sands call rain

Lightening makes art

And the whole sky is its frame

In an African soul,

Wherever a travelling soul goes,

Strength, like a mountain, still carries the bones

Deep in that place, with new seasons and old

African laughter from ribs like a river still flows

And African love runs rich and fast in the veins

Carrying the soul

That red soil has stained

Images by my dear friend, Alexandrina Fleming https://www.anamcarafilmstudios.com/alexandrina