Time To Sing And Dance Chan Chan Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

It is time to silence the fan,
And go out and get a real tan,
Where they make them better,
For it is here that we go,
Chan Chan to the sound of noisy cars.
Someone has to teach us how,
You mourn a hero that others,
Find not so great for they,
See in him a taker not a giver.
Could the world join in one,
Song when the tunes are as,
Different as they are in,
This cacophony of noises,
That have taken over an,
Island in tears?

It is truth that I hear voices,
Sad and voices noisy for,
I decided to join neither,
For it is time to sing and,
Invite the world to join,
In this lament that causes,
Others to dance in the streets,
Of Miami. They say those who,
Are razor sharp and controversial,
Remain the same in the minds,
Of societies like them for
What they touch they leave,
In there a hole so deep it calls,
You from afar. Wherever you
Are, join in as the story,
Which has no end begins.

Let us go down the streets,
Of Havana wiping tears off,
The faces of those who mourn,
For the death of a leader,
Is never an easy thing to,
Bear. But cry forever we must,
Not for we will lose the time,
When we have to dance to,
Chan Chan the way penguins,
Lost their ability to fly.
For even to lay a mere egg,
They have to face the deadly,
Cold and go on a march to the
Ends of the earth. Not to,
Dance right now is to go into,
A cold that will never go away,
For you will have failed to be,
A connoisseur and succumbed,
To the level of the mediocre.

If you do not smoke and never,
Have, you surely did inhale,
If you did put the joint in your,
Mouth in the dictionary of fools,
It is smoking and that is,
A crime you have to pay for,
By dancing Chan Chan for if,
You do not how will you tell,
Segundo you did not inhale,
When he sees the joint in
Your mouth. Better say you
inhaled but did not swallow.
As for you who look and
Smell like a shebeen you need,
Not make angels out of yourselves,
For everyone knows you to be
More drunk than the composer,
Of Chan Chan for you will not,
Need to take a breathalyzer,
Test for the world to know you,
Were at a party tonight sinner,
That you are. Someone has to get,
Us all together for we have to,
Pay our dues for not to do so
Is to fail to give Fidel what is
Fidel's and Caesar what is Caesars.

Who said that Afro Cuban sounds,
Were for those who stay on an,
Island blockaded in the slate,
Of time to suffer and dance,
To these sounds all alone?
Let us get drunk with joy and,
Celebrate blockade or no blockade,
For if we laugh, sing and dance,
They will know we have taken,
The LSD of life. Fidel is gone,
For to some he gave and to some,
He took. It is time to Chan Chan,
And take a piece of the island and,
Hide it in your heart. Life is known
To stretch its hand out once. You
Miss it, and there goes the blessing,
For they say when the priest,
Says now take, eat and drink,
For this is my baptism of you in,
A history not mine but yours. If you,
Fail to dance to the tune tell the
Stars that you know it is time to
Bow to time and honor it for even,
For you the day of reckoning cometh,
Like a wagon of old whose hinges are
Making their sounds as of comes down,
The road that leads up to the house,
At the bottom of the valley of life.
,
Lay Fidel not in a hole for he insisted,
His ashes should be carried in an urn,
And spread over the blue waters of
His beloved Cuba. While they float,
There let us honor history for
Here was a man who did something,
I need to tell you in a whisper.
I went to my country in the south,
Of Africa and found doctors young,
And they had come from nowhere,
But the country of Fidel. Tell
Me not to sing and dance to,
Chan Chan and I will tell the
Gods you are jealous of this bond,
That he had with Africa. The AFro
Cuban sounds will swear as they,
Blast in the hot air of an island,
That you surely are.

* Chan Chan is a song by Compay Segundo
Of Cuba.