My dream
Is sweet
Like honey,
Green
Like the leaves of a cucumber,
Bright
Like the morning sun,
Lovely
Like a garden of roses,
A dream
Of a new continent
A continent where
Parliament
Shall not be a hall
Of a swarm of locusts,
An acacia tree
For the clattering of weaverbirds,
A platform
For formless sycophants
A continent where
‘National security’
Will not be the hard skin
Guarding state house crocodiles;
A walking stick
Sustaining gods of the potter’s clay;
A continent where
Detentions and prisons
Will not be mortars
For pounding humanity,
A door
For entering to the grave,
A continent where
Precious brains
Shall not get startled
And drop their tools
To hurriedly get to the border
For home
Has become awilderness
Where the buffalo
Has been engulfed by fury,
Where wild dogs
Are roasted by rabies,
And the spitting cobra
Has its neck puffed up,
A continent where
Greed
And corruption
Shall not rain from the top
Like poison
From a helicopter
Being sprayed,
Official lies
Shall not rise in the air
And attack the nose
Like the stench of a skunk,
Tribal prejudice
Shall not be a mist
To attack eyes
Like tear gas;
A continent where
In state houses
There won’t be black mambas coiled
But humans beings seated –
People with blood
And conscience
II
Like a sunbird
On a flower,
Like a heart
Under the canopy of love,
My dream
Has perched and stilled
On the new continent
A continent where
Information technology
Will not remain up in the sky
Far from our hand
But will be a spotlight in the palm
For lighting our road,
Sparks of science
Shall be fanned
Till they be an inferno,
The seedling of technology
Will be nurtured
Till it becomes a giant tree,
A continent where
Our researches
Our discoveries
Will be grenades
Against malaria and measles
Tanks
Against rinderpest and blight;
A continent where
Farmers
Will sing songs,
Poets
Recite poems,
In unabashed praise
Not only of tea and cocoa
Not only of coffee and tobacco
But potatoes –
Bigger than hunger,
Pigeon peas
Growing without sulking,
Vegetables and fruits
Which deride their enemies in the farm –
Lovely, glittering
Jewels of bio-technology;
A continent where
Theory and practice
Brains and hands
Blend fast
With the sun and rivers
And with sweet melodies
Sing a unique song
A song of electricity
For running machines
And dreams,
For lighting houses
And hearts
III
Oh, New Continent
Twinkling star
In the darkly season,
Glinting star
Like life throbbing,
Through this mist
Of vapour of tears,
Through this smoke
Of the fire of poverty,
Through this cloud
Of the poison of disunity,
With a steadfast voice
I call upon you
Come, Oh, New Continent
Continent of tranquility
Continent of harmony
Continent of collaboration
And of hope,
Come, oh, New Continent
A continent where
Instead of the odour of suspicion
As Cameroon and Nigeria
Spray stomach gas at each other,
Instead of groaning
As Kenya and Tanzania
Gnaw at each other’s nerves,
Instead of wailings
As Ethiopia and Eritrea
Fry each other in the desert,
Roads and rails
Shall cross borders
Like blood vessels
Leaving one organ
And entering the next,
Letters and telephone calls
Shall reach neighboring villages
Without passing through London
Without going via Paris,
Currency notes
Will not become worthless paper
After crossing Lwakhakha
Or Rufiji,
A continent where,
The jewels of research
With African colours,
Factory goods
With African emblems,
Will bypass each other
Like pistons
Running a machine
IV
I cry for you, oh, New Continent
A continent where
In the mind’s eye
The black skin
Shall be source of pride,
In our ears
African languages
Shall be nightingale’s songs,
African art
Shall be the compass
In the boat of culture,
A continent where
The core business
Shall not be strategising
On how to tightenthe knot
In the dangerous noose
Of Bretton Woods
But fabricating the file
With which to cut the chains
Which bind our legs
On the life’s highway