BLACK MOTION
Ngaphansi kwesikhumba soMzimba wami
Struggle is woven ever so tightly around the fabric of my African baked melanated skin every crevace corner pore and follicle
Screams of
Mother’s and father’s jumping overboard to escape the plantation fate
Sons and daughters drenched in adolescent blood running unarmed dodging bantu education bullets on the streets of Soweto
Grandmother’s and grandfather’s crouching within the Matebele green
Breaths paused to avoid the 5th brigade
But struggle is not the only shade of my melanated skin
From the military prowess of Dombo And Tshaka
my forearms are glazed in cow horn formation greatness
my golden stool-brown face was chiseled by the Asante’s stone Mason’s perfection it’s
As beautiful as Senzangakhona
The Khoi , Xhosa and Eritreans consummated and birthed my light-skinned tongue
But it is not as slick as Achebe’s pen nor does it carry the wisdom of silky white-haired Sonyika
My thighs are as dark as a blend of the Biafran war and the Mfecane sprinkled with the Gukurahundi and the Rwandan genocide
See the many shades of my skin
Tell stories
Stories of pain, joy, triumph, failure,greatness, weakness
Like Mbeki said “I AM AN AFRICAN”
I am ahead of my time like Sankara
I am the intelligence of Cheikh Anta Diop
the bravery of Nkwame
The elegance of Ramsees the 3rd
The wealth of Mansa
The ….. Of Wangari Maathai
The youthful exuberance of Ndlozi
The divisiveness of Gbowee
The Afrikanicity of Pathisa Nyathi
The stubbornness of Karma the 1st
Served with a dash of Mqhabuko’s presence
I grew in the womb of Indlovukazi uNandi so I am a King
The Global North has attempted to nurture me as nothing but a struggle
Conditioned as a problem to be solved
They have attempted to erase my Aksumite trail blazer DNA
But the Winnie in me will not be silenced
The blood of the Mau Mau is a resident of my veins
So I will stand strong in who I am
Because it’s hard to kill a king who is self aware
By Dumoluhle Moyo
