Victoria falls rocking in the West, Zimbabwe, the Zambezi in your terrain, The resonance sending fame of her magnificence, Sitting, gushing rumbling, and swallowing in her sleep.

They are walking past. Some glance at me in disgust, some in apprehension. I know they can never understand how an old woman and an infant can live on a street pavement. Yes how come? And who can blame them too? Of course the memory of my husband stands over us, protecting us both from their stares and the brutal elements.

Africa my Africa , Africa my motherland, Mother or Fatherland .Childless you went almost , But he that intervened, The God of all nations

“I owe my being to the hills and the valleys, the mountains and the glades, the rivers, the deserts, the trees, the flowers, the seas and the ever-changing seasons that define the face of our native land. My body has frozen in our frosts and in our latter day snows. It has thawed in the warmth of our sunshine and melted in the heat of the midday sun.

How does a minority when 2/3rd are the majority, Hold that majority captive?How does a minority, when 2/3rds are, the majority Take away their willingness to ‘live’?