POSTED 05/05/2018 17:57
Son, son, calm down
Don't take your sister seriously.
But dad, she has changed;
She put mother's teachings in a sack-and-motor
And gave a damn to our motor
Into the dust bin she dropped the bundle.
My son, she's carried by the wind,
Let her feel her wings
Sooner or later she'll land.
Dad, she'll land on a strange land
Fumbling her strange toes and fingers on the sand
Dad, take a look at her knees!
Fanta and coca cola are pleasing to see.
Dad, take a look at her face!
She has embraced a new phase.
Dad, she's no longer ours.
My son, don't put her on the other side of the line,
Allow the wind to bridge your gap.
Feel the warmth of the wind,
The touch is never the same.
Dad, even the wind bridges our gap
With her strange cap she'll still be far.
Dad, though I feel the warmth of the wind,
I won't be tarnished by the syndrome.
I see, my friends too are tarnished,
They will never be the same.
They seem to forget the history of our face
They seem to forget the sweat that rested on our fathers black skins
They have insulted grandpa and his kinsmen.
They have told grandma that she was lying
That there is no beauty in it,
They have spat on Senghor's words.
They are no longer us.
They will never be us again!
They are not them either.
They will never be them!
My son, they are dancing makossa in a strange land,
Yet cannot dance it well in our land.
They are twisting their waists to the rhythm of a strange song
Which they can never dance properly
Neither in the strange land
Nor in our land.
They are like leaves–no steady place to land,
They can only truly land when crushed.
My dear dad, we're unique.
They admire us but can't be like us,
Even the blacksmith can't help them,
Nor the painter paint them.
We're one rare seed in the forest.
Son, son, son,
Let's sit and watch how all these will end.
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