Aziz Baako

What Do You Know About Africa?

What do you know about Africa?
Is it the news, the views or the review
Of news paper overviews.

Is it the Aids patient or the patience
We have with Western Aids?
Is it the grain of wheat
Or the gains of the elite.

What do you know about Africa?
Do you know the media exaggerates
The stories to sell their views.
Do you know we don’t sleep on trees?

I heard in the West the pictures
Shown on TV is only on HIV.
I also heard that the perceptions
Out there is that there is no reception
Because they say the whole Africa
Is in big confusion.

Let me tell you something today,
Mercedes is selling at Silver Star,
Shell is refueling the used cars
Uniliver is distributing provisions
And The American Air line is making
Millions of Dollars. All in Africa.

I guess you think there is only
Poverty but some of us are living
In mansion only own by stars
In the West. Africa is also blessed
With resources as a continent and
Humans with High Culture

Let me tell
You what I know about my continent
It is not the hell they spell
In their news, their views or review

It is the lies and assumed commitment
Of the called first world economy
On my resources and economy?

The human resource,
The mineral resource
And the influence on Puppet
Leaders who are victims
Of colonialism.

That is the reasons
Our seasons are not at a height
And our reasoning always in fight
With our very being.

But don’t get caught up in the hypes
And jives of the News Makers.
They are only creating a world
For your minds.
They are creating perception
Not perfections

That is what the people like
Freedom will call Mental Slavery.
From today on,
Learn more about Africa
From the African.

Dansoman Accra Ghana 2004

Poem Submitted: Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Poem Edited: Thursday, June 30, 2011

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Comments about What Do You Know About Africa? by Aziz Baako

  • Clark Dark (6/29/2011 7:39:00 PM)

    I'm feelin' you. Let the Africans tell their story!

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  • Ace Of Black HeartsAce Of Black Hearts (6/29/2011 7:29:00 PM)

    Brilliant poem, I understand where your coming from.
    Just remember your corruption is worse then are's.
    I don't blame you feeling so left out.
    If you have voice you must speak it, and speak it in volumes to be actually heard.
    It's a hit or a miss kind of thing.
    Sometimes reaching is not of the clouds but of the ground.
    Feel that dirt, squeeze it in your hand and remember your still here.
    And just maybe it won't disappear.

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