Set the alarm
Lock the doors
Lock the windows
Lock the shutters
Find the cricket bat – “put it by your bed”
Say goodnight to mom and dad

Although young, not naïve
I knew every night had the possibility of being my last

A routine that is now muscle memory.

Fear –
You may think
But life –
Normal for me.

Wake up
Turn off the alarm
Unlock the doors
Open the windows
Open the shutters
Put the cricket bat in the cupboard

Never being able to be left alone at home. Unwillingly dragged from store to store.

But – that’s the thing –
People don’t know the real Her,
They know the exquisite scenery, the unforgettable wildlife
They don’t know… But I do.
Because She is my home
Because being in constant fear for my life –
is normal.

Confused –
What do I tell people about Mother when they ask?
The person who raised me, taught me how to be grateful, how to ride a bike,         how to love.
Do I tell them? Will I scare them?

Although hidden beneath the tyranny – I would say –
the bloodshed
the faces of malnourished children left for dead on the side of the road the poverty struck soil the corruption      the greed the hunger the death the separation of class and race

Although a place feared –
Africa.

My Africa –
Whose sunshine you feel ignited in your soul
My Africa –
Whose smile is irresistibly contagious
My Africa –
Whose heart lies in the grassy terrain
The golden dunes of sand
The never-ending mountain tops
My Africa –
Who is the heart of various people
           cultures
   languages
          All who call Her home.
She is –
Where my heart lies even if I am thousands of miles away
Where my mind wanders from day to day.

Her air, instantly calls you
Her smell, instantly smelt
Welcoming you ever so dearly –
      Home.

Like all good mothers,
She is the one who can handle both the tranquil and turmoil,
the love and war.

She is my home. She is who I fear of disappointing.

My Africa –
is beautiful.

The discussion of politics occurs,
Over cups of lukewarm earl grey.
Obsidian tea occupies an ivory ***,
My hand stumbles and the sweet grains miss my drink.
They fall to the ground and scatter the rich soil below me,
Herbal notes are enough to distract me from my surroundings for the moment.
A thin shadow rests upon me,
Cast by the barren trees that forsake the living.
Clinking china rings in the air,
But is not enough to mask the sounds of suffocation.
I continue to pour my drink into my mouth,
As the rope around me neck beings to tighten.
This tea is too sweet I think to myself,
While my feet are lifted from the ground.
The cup drops from my hand,
and the cotton tablecloth is stained crimson.

We sit on the bow of the boat,
The sun glares down on us,
Your skin reflects it’s warmth.
I hand you a smooth shell I found,
We admire its beauty together.
Its round edges and pearlescent body,
You say that you could stare at it forever,
But then you turn to the sea and throw the shell.
I ask you why,
And you reply that its beauty is only temporary.
At first I take your word for fact,
But after contemplation I realize I disagree.
So I dive into the water and chase after the shell,
Not yet ready to give up on it,
Understanding its value.
When I bring it back to the boat,
I smile at you and plead you to enjoy its allure for the moment.
You agree and curl up next to me,
And we resume our admiration.
But not long after you take the shell from my hand,
Again you turn to the ocean and release the shell.
I look at you with a blank face,
Confused by your indecisiveness.
You explain that you never thought the shell was beautiful.
Once more I dive into the water,
No not to retrieve the shell this time,
Instead I swim to escape you.