A Story about Poor Africa

A poem that depicts the exploitation and utter contempt for the African continent.

I am black, why do you stigmatize my colour? Why am I stereotyped as poor and indigent? On my side of the Atlantic I am deeply oppressed. There is a metamorphosis of the fetters of slavery by Europe's neo-colonizers, and their enablers- Africa's sit-tight bigwigs and overlords. The colonizer who connives with the complicit African task master says regularly to me, "In as much as you are naturally endowed with so much to eat, you must take the crumbs, whilst I have the chunk for a better life in my homeland. You are always welcome to share in this better life if you are privileged to cross perilous deserts and seas." With a slavish mentality, I dream of the prospects of a better life in this wonderland built and sustained by my own valued and exploited resources. An elusive wonderland indeed! A land easily accessible to their African enablers and their privileged posterity. When I try to go there legally, I am told that my neo-colonial inflicted penury disqualifies me from getting to my wonderland of dreams. When I take the more audacious alternative, I am branded an illegal immigrant fit to inhabit a squalid asylum. My asylum claims are often discarded as 'economic opportunism.' And when I finally gain access, my dreams of economic prospects are simply translated into pejorative menial tasks, fit only for an African. I am told by racists and far-rightists to go back to Africa. I am disdained for coming to seek a better life for me and my relatives. I am ridiculed for coming to eat good food at a cheaper cost, I am ridiculed for coming in pursuit of a better lease of life. Back home, I register my complaint as an oppressed African by protesting against neo-colonizers and African accomplices. When I do so, my voice of dissent is deemed undemocratic, because I must continually be exploited. The 'best' for me as an African is to remain exploited. The 'best' for me as an African is to remain impoverished. The 'best' for me as an African is to keep crossing perilous seas and horrendous deserts with my audacious instincts. The 'best' for me as an African is to drown in the boisterous seas and die in the unpleasant desert, where my carcass is exposed to the elements. The 'best' for me as an African is to remain a permanent migrant to Europe where I am treated disdainfully. Do my African overlords and colonizers mean well for me? If my African overlords still do not mean well, I might be tempted to support the wave of mutiny orchestrated by military putschists. If my European neo-colonizers never seem to mean well, I will constantly knock on their doors like a liability, seeking for succour."

Author's Note

A poem depicting the unfair exploitation and contempt for Africa.