I’m In the Middle

Seen a lot

Yet can’t figure the dot

I’m an African, and will forever be

Nothing can change that

Neither I nor Him

Everywhere, I’m called African

Yet my race, failing to own the reality

I have, but my people, have yet to face the reality

We take their names, appreciate their ways

In my continent, we experience racism within a race

My neighbour cannot name their child with my tribal name

But so much happy to mark the child with that of a stranger’s name

We pray and popularize religions forced upon us

Shifting from our own, seeing everything in it as evil

In Africa, passing ceremonies on rocks is evil

In the foreign land of Mecca, that on a black rock is holy

Funny, most cannot separate Islam from the Arabic Language

A Christian I am, yet a series of bizarre things within it

Things created and adapted from the Jews by Roman Emperors

I’m in the middle, several things, books force upon us

Their children learn in their mother tongue,

Yet we’re not comfortable with our mother tongue

Africans have always been Africans, yet take no pride in it

Yes! we pray in foreign religions, Christianity, and Islam

But have always been mingling with our traditional ways

The politicians can relate, so also the famous people

I will forever appreciate African, for I’m a true African

We can change, but we must be ready for it

We’re a unique and peaceful race. If not!

 What they did to us hundreds of years, what they’re still doing.

We’d be more than a threat to them by now, but we love them

We live within boundaries, boundaries created without our consent

We’re caught up amidst their double standards.

So, in the far east of Ukraine is just a genocide

The memories of Ota Benga live on and will forever live on

By Fayia Foray – March 2022