MAMA AFRICA.

Arise from dust, O Blackman!
Let your echoes from the dark travel,
Transcending mountain peaks;
Africa, the mother of beauty:
I see your rivers stretch down the oceans,
As trees wave your praises in the wind.
Beautiful and black, black and beautiful;
By the golden sunrays.
Let greyhaired men play those thumbpianos,
To the Araka-raka dance of the moonlight;
As children dance to your songs, Africa.

Arise, O Blackman's land!
The land of men within me;
Tear down lions by bare hands;
Defend your teritories
By the warrior's double-edged spear.

Rewind back the hands of the clock,
Those moments along the river-stream,
Clad on my leopard skin,
Waiting for my black beauty,
Whose eyes made the moon shy off,
When her dark complexion overpowered the evenning sun,
And round beads balanced on her tiny wasp waist,
As she fetched water from the Great river Nile.

Arise, Mama Africa!
Land of stones, land of rocks;
No more slavery in Africa;
No more scars on our backs.
Breath in me, as I breath in you;
For I am a true African son,
Leaning on this deserted black map,
Take me back to my roots,
Take me back to the times, Africa.

Obella Stephen.