tinashe severa

Rookie (11/01/86 / harare, zimbabwe)

The Big People - Poem by tinashe severa

the land of the big people
my land
had greatness thrust upon her once
but that was a long time ago and the big people then already had eyes that saw not

my land
the land were uneducated black workers
sweat endlessly under the african sun
buliding ice-skating rings for the big people
whilst their own families sit beneath shacks
under the cover of vague street lights
busy spiting thier lungs out
just like the good old days of colonial rule

my land
the land where champagne sipping ministers
sign away land and mineral concessions
in exchange for for football stadiums and empty schools
which they expect the small people to accept
without any resignation
whiling away their time in slowly serviced bank queues
the aim being to receive very small portions
from their already heavily emacipated bank accounts
the rations of money the small people need to qualify them for the other endless list of queues
such wasted time and energies spent
serve not to unify or strengthen the small people
but to destroy their youthful zeal for life
engulfed forever in oblivion
such wasted time and spent energies
will leave the small people older
....but not wiser

After inflicting such pain and misery upon the small people
the big people then all try to be very comical
spending all their time delivering speeches fully laced with fallacies
to the loud cheerings of some heavily expectant small people
the worst of the big people have resigned themselves to toying around with genocidal economic policy formulations
and to supplying false local statitics to the international press
seemingly unaware that for the sufferer
their comedy
..is a tragedy

through manipualting the mass media
they try to implant false hope into the minds and hearts of the small people
barren lands where no seeds of hope can ever sprout
a people with no hope
cannot ever formulate visions
visions of brighter days to come
and so how can they the small people be expected
to strive to achieve
what they themselves cannot visualise

will the day ever dawn upon us
the day when the veil of poverty shall be lifted
off the heads of the small people
the day when the small people like a new bride
will leave their old way of life and accept
a new destiny altogether

'what do they expect from us, we are just a small stretch of land in sub saharan africa.we do not have the money, the capital the....needed for such a transformation'

sentiments shared quite equally among the big people
but alas for them
Humans
not places
make memories
and theirs shall be a legacy
a legacy that will make generations of thier
offspring to come
bow their heads down in shame
...And cry

The small people are but dogs among the masters
no matter how much they toil
the best they can ever be
is to be the most masterly of the dogs

The unending sory of the zimbabwean child
at nine a bundle of excitement and joy
at eighteen a highly gifted and immensely talented academic
at thirty a dog among the masters
the most masterly of dogs


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Poem Submitted: Saturday, October 29, 2005

Poem Edited: Tuesday, April 4, 2006


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