“(To My Dearest Sister, Dr. Maya Angelou)
There are dungeons in the Cape Coast Castle
Now without their cast-iron gates
Where, all the evil spirits of slavers, pirates,
Suspended head-down in brown incarceration
Under the frowning vigilance
Of Nana Tabir, the first of equals among the tutelar gods.
Seventy-seven, of this ancient town of Efutu;
There in dank misery condemned to be
For the period of their lives
And the lives of generations after them and those after them
Till the end of time; judged and condemned
Their souls are coffined in the bodies of the bats,
Whose eyes burn like smoldering coals but see nothing
And they languish as bats in the hole.
Where they can hear the hissing and booing of the rollers
Of the Atlantic Sea
But sail on it no more; No passage for the wicked, says the
There in the dungeon they stagnate.
In the worm-infested turpitude of their crimes;
And the worms multiply by leaps and years;
And tadpoles scorn the pollution of the puddle.
Only the mosquito, guerrilla of days,
Immerse its larvae hanging them aslant in the water
With their proboscis drawing pure air of life
To gain life to destroy life of intruders:
Thus our land was saved.
Not for them any more the cool comfort of the crescent
Smile of the moon as it glides across the silvery expanse
Of the heavens.
Beaming its cubby matronly approval on pale nights
Upon the maidens playing ampe, lithe flicks of black legs
In the lucency of happy and open hours, full of song.
And cheered by cracking reports of clapping hands:
Not for them the leisurely sight of old men,
Scions of the blind days drowning the shame
Bequeathed to them by our forebears
As our share of the burden
In endless games of oware:
The pebbles, they drop by tally pensively into the holes
As men descending into the murk of graves,
Are moistened by remorse.
How can we explain should they want to know
What crimes, what new crimes, they committed to bring on
This punishment heavier and more damning
Than the wages of sin:
What if the cruel yoke had broken bone and soul
And none had lived to tell the tale.
But there are no hard thoughts here as blood flows
Where two minds meet in soft sessions of harmony
Peace is born, love, and joy.
For if the happenings of the past
Could be unraveled by the mind of man
we would all be God;
One seed of maize would not be planted to rot
For us to take a cob grinning with
Four hundred and twenty seeds at harvest;
And Joseph would not have been the ruler of Egypt
In the time of famine
To feed father and the brothers who sold him into bondage
Today those who made the grim passage
Now with sandaled feet, heads sparkling
With gold-studded fillets; aggrey heads on their wrists;
Clothed in the splendour of their indomitable spirit;
Our kinsmen, have crossed the threshold,
Drank the water of welcome and are seated
On their stools of precious wood
Telling their story
In the compounds of their ancestral homes.
The children of Adam have come to see their kinsmen:
Like the great heavens of African evenings
The shade of the doorways are peopled
With bright and shining curiosity:
The children are whispering their regrets
For five hundred years is a long time to be gone.
The gold rings, the outdooring gift of belonging,
They held in the palm of the hands,
Their fingers are too gnarled and knotted
By beast labour for painless decoration.
Now are we free
Being sons and daughters of God;
Free people with one destiny.
Wrapped in the fearless colors
Of our kente, the pride of our loom
Here we stand,
United in heart in mind and in blood
And none so bold,
None daring–and none dares,
To make slaves of us again!”
Kwesi Brew (1928 – 2007).
“So-called African Americans should return asap to their ancestral home, Africa, if they are so fortunate.
Racist and hostile USA will continue to exploit you (so-called African Americans) ruthlessly, divide you, destroy you, or treat you as unworthy.
We must realize USA is largely a predator (mostly whites) – prey (mostly non-whites or less privileged people) society based on the production and consumption of goods and services. And it is driven by power, competition, profit, and greed. And therefore, the environment (Mother Nature) is recklessly exploited and degraded.
May Lord GOD help us.” — Dave.
“When we open our eyes today and look around America, we see America not through the eyes of someone who has enjoyed the fruits of Americanism. We see America through the eyes of someone who has been the victim of Americanism. We don’t see any American dream. We’ve experienced only the American nightmare. We haven’t benefited from America’s democracy. We’ve only suffered from America’s hypocrisy.” — Malcolm_X.
“We didn’t land on Plymouth Rock, my brothers and sisters—Plymouth Rock landed on us!” — Malcolm_X.