Fire for Mother Africa
Such heat warms the earth itself;
Heat phasing in and out of its inner container.
Fire in the very flash of the good
Lights up the cigarettes of the evil;
Many miles and centuries away.
Sometimes even at the most serene mountain
A gust carries the hopes of men away.
Nor do physical objects disappear.
Fire looks into the eyes
And sees a vast desert.
Hence to destroy the cool valleys
Lying abottom the majestic chateaux.
Wind encircles in its unparalleled war salute
And allows in the great heat
To the very essence of our magical cleanliness.
Yet Africa witnesses no magic to its avail.
Atop every Barcelona,
In the midst of every London
Lies a statue like a caressing finger.
Lights buzz with the electricity of day.
The beasts of yore, roam at their free will.
Shows and moments occur in unison
And then one realises for truth.
Time means nothing.
Reality shows itself as we conclude.
Time only exists for we need to measure it.
All equations become folly.
They stand naked in their stupidity.
Mother Africa is our teacher.
Mrs. Africa's children learn the truth.
About This Poem
Written during a period of deep reflection on Africa's place in world history, this poem juxtaposes the raw elemental power of fire with the continent's complex relationship with colonialism and modernity. The imagery moves between European capitals—Barcelona, London—and the African landscape, suggesting how colonial monuments and structures imposed artificial order on a continent that operates by its own timeless rhythms. The poem's philosophical conclusion strips away Western constructs of measurement and rationality, positioning "Mother Africa" as a teacher of deeper truths that transcend the equations and systems imposed upon her. The recurring fire imagery serves as both destroyer and illuminator—revealing that what seems permanent and ordered in colonial cities is ultimately ephemeral against Africa's enduring presence.