I did not decide,
To be Zimbabwean,
Neither did I decide,
To be in Zimbabwe,
If I had a choice,
I would neither,
Be a Zimbabwean,
Nor be in Zimbabwe,
Only if I had a choice.

The pain of a pain so painful,
The pain of the hopelessness of losing hope,
The dire pain of hopelessly plunging into dire hopelessness,
The pain of progressing very fast,
And very fast in reverse past the reverse,
The pain that is so so,
The pain of dying,
But still living to tell the tale,
The sad stale tale of a country so deserted,
The tale of a country so dilapidated,
The toll tale of a people so dead,
The tall tale of a land surface so empty,
As if the buildings have turned into lions,
Crocodiles and snakes.

Every morning we look at the calendar,
We look not to check the date,
Not for the month,
But to confirm,
How many days could be left,
How many days,
Before the righteous devil takes him,
The one-time epitome of African Renaissance,
The now heavily expired dinosaur of African Patriotism,
A stubborn stain on the underwear of Africanness,  
We sit by radios,
We sit by television sets,
Every news hour,
And we buy papers every day,
In anticipation of the news,
The news that would throw the world into a frenzy,
The Zimbabwe News,
The news that would be the news,
The President is no more,
Finally.

The children of Allah,
The children of their God,
The children of our God,
The children of the God of the British,
The children of the God of the Americans,
The children of the God for all,
What wrong have they done,
What price are they paying,
The children of Iraq.

Only yesterday,  
We lost our beloved ones,
Leaders of yesterday,
And leaders of tomorrow,
And we prayed that it does not happen again,
Not in America,
Not in Afghanistan,  
Not in Africa,
Not anywhere in the world.  

The echoes of our cries still reverberate,
And our wounds still smell,
Our fears were forever awakened,
And our tears are still rolling down our cheeks,
Our deeply broken hearts still ache,
And day in day out we pray,
September 11 must go forever,
And never revisit us.  

Innocent people were blamed,
And innocent people suffered tremendously,
God painfully abandoned the children of Afghanistan,
As some ungodly and heartless forces tortured them,
The unborn, the born and the already dying,
Children of a living God.

And today,  
September 11 is unrespectfully intruding on us,
Like a crazy vampire seeking a ****** revenge,
Shame on the innocent and noble children of Iraq,
Their now cheap-as-a-chick lives are on the block,
As the greedy and insensitive demon prepares a barbaric carnage,
All because of egocentricity and sour power,
All because of a personal vendetta.  

Anytime now,  
The whistle will be blown,
And world peace and stability will be gone,
But who is George Bush in the eyes of God,
Who is brainless terrorist Bush in the eyes of man,
Just another September 11.

Here I stand,
Today and now,
At the centre,
Of the middle of somewhere,
A very dark, dead and fearful darkness,
Having paid one of its regular intrusions,
On an unsuspecting African village,
Giving birth,
To a complete demise of activity,
Save for the stubborn nature,
A strong cold wind blows,
Rattling leaves off trees,
My heart thuds,
At the thought of a ghost,
Making enough noise,
To scare me,
Like a bare-footed traditional dancer,
Pouncing the earth,
My skin crawls on my bones,
At the thought,
Of callous and faceless wizards,
This is their time,
And this is their rush hour,
I could be standing,
On the roof,
Of some departed's house,
At a distance,
I hear a drum beating,
And a strong roar,
Of an ancestral spirit coming home,
Strong enough to shake mountains,
Strong enough to shake the earth like a quake,
Strong enough to spill rivers,
Lakes, seas and oceans,
A dog barks drowsily,
A snake hisses,
A squirrel quirks lackadaisically,
In the wonders of an African village.

A walk in Africa,
Africa for Africans,
A walk down town Africa,
Meeting an African,
A troubled and unsettled African,
A troubled African in Africa,
Africa in Africa,
An African Diaspora,
An African imprisoned,
At home and away,
A pure African,
From the Africa of poor Maputo,
A pure African,
From the Africa of poor Zimbabwe,
Ghana, Nigeria, Tanzania,
Somalia, Ethiopia, Congo,
A poor African,
From the pure Africa of elsewhere,
An unfree African in a free Africa,
Africa for Africans,
Africans yesterday,
Africans today,
And Africans tomorrow,
The Africa of South Africa.