Let me introduce myself
My name is Aderanti Fasasi
Decades ago, I was just twelve,
But now I can barely see,
The skin on my body taut like overstretched leather,
What a nice talking drum it would make,
Because only it can tell this story better,
Cos on it, is a clear portrait of my hurt and ache
The last thing I recall was his eyes,
Bloodshot, fiery and his large barreled chest
He sold our future for a prize,
2 thin cows and a fake golden crest.
He stole me away in the depth of the night
Despite the wailings and pleas of my folks,
To a land farthest away from their sight
Bounded in chains and locks,
I woke up to find myself in God’s own country
In a mine embedded in the core of the earth,
Where days seem like centuries,
As we toiled in magma’s depth,
Black pearls became prisoners,
Slaves to the white man’s whip
Through agonizing days in midsummer
And the pain from our clamped lips,
Drilled and clamped with a key,
To avoid us stealing their precious stones
We fed on a slice of bread and 2 drops of tea
Food didn’t do it, hunger toughened our bones
And for years we hustled
Their offsprings beget by our sisters
Sisters in the same struggle,
Raped and depraved, their soul is blistered
And oh yes, we had off springs too,
By strong black women, who saw us as the future,
The future of Africa ’s history and its glory too,
They say, they will never abandon their culture,
Alliance between slaves
Was an invitation to terror,
We met in secret hollow caves
Amidst fear and impending horror,
The shot rang in the air
And then a loud thud followed
We all stood and stared
As our shot comrade stumbled below,
Shot by James Barret,
For taking a nap on duty,
That was the justice of the bullet
Stainless steel, filled with horror, filled with beauty,
Every other day, we lost a brother or sister
Either from the sting of the whip
Or from ageing bones to the cold in winter,
Or from been thrown out of a moving ship
Not a word from home,
Since home existed only in my young memory
I was on my own, but not alone,
Blacks everywhere in the world are a colony,
Like roaring thunder,
Our lives was a nightmare,
Controlled by the whip and gunpowder
We lived in constant pain and fear
I toured the world
Not on vacations leave
But as a single word
“Slave”.
Freedom was a distant dream,
Some believed it, some think it sucks,
But I coated mine with cream
And rubbed it on my conscience till it stuck
We are black
And we were slaves
Now we are back
And I’ve been saved
Let me introduce myself once more
My name is Gerrald Lawson,
I lost my identity in Singapore,
But I’m proud to be Africa ’s son.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem