From Africa To America Poem by Dr. Ahmed Gumaa Siddiek

It was an early morning in my village
When I left my family in their cottage
And stealthily went, as to be the first
To fetch some fruit, from the forest

My village peacefully slept under the mountain
Enjoying the healthy air and the generous rain
Where my tribe had been living for years
Everything was grown and shared with peers
Our farms were rich with types of grains
And the good sky did never cease to rain

So, our stores were full with types of food
For family and everyone in the neighborhood
We were rich and rich enough
We had beautiful girls to love
Ready to give children, birth after birth
We were the happiest men on earth

Our villages in peace did they remain
With green plains and continuous rains
The tribe wellbeing was maintained
By wise women and bravest men

We had time to love, to wed and time to fight
We had time to sing under the moon's bright light
And we had time to grow and enjoy the food
And time to converse and dance in the wood

We had the learning to raise the cattle
And plenty of arts and wood to whittle.
We had the time to go to battle
W e were able to read
And we were able to write

We know arithmetic and religion, too
We had time to worship the God
In only ONE we believed, not in two
Our elders had time for beautiful tales
To teach the boys and the girls
and we had skills to treat the ails.

We learned to count our cattle and sheep
We knew when our crops were ready to reap
We had the skills to get water from the deep earth
And the knowledge to tell the coming of birth

We knew all about stars in the sky
We knew how to cook and bake the pie
And all about the wealth in the ground
And how to decipher the echo of the sound

So when we beat our drums during the night
That was to make ready for a fight
And when we beat our drums during the day
That was to celebrate a wedding day

But when we send the smoke signs to our kin
So we would never be taken by sudden
It was to tell the advance of some enemies
And be ready for the fighting ceremonies

So we had a culture when you came to our land
And took our races chained hand in hand
To plant cotton and sugar on your sand
Millions of black fellows had long to stand
Under the burning sun, they were to remand
Som when your white ships anchored at our coast
Everything had gone with the wind and we were lost
With your guns you came to hunt men and boast
And displaced my race to paying the heaviest cost

That was one early morning and that was my last day
When I last saw the green plains where I used to play
In a slave ship across the Atlantic I made my way
To the new world with historical dismay
Where we were displaced, enslaved and forced to stay