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Letters to Africans
Letters to Africans
Letters to Africans
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Letters to Africans

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Letters to Africans is a life buoy that Leon Tuam sends to African people. Readers will discover that many poems remind blame Africans to have not done enough to get out of the deep mud they have been living in for centuries. African people are aware of this situation, but they have not decided yet to stand radically and to get out of it. Nobody will carry out this task for them. It is their responsibility. Already they understand, but they need determination. They are paralyzed with fear still. In this collection readers also discover that despite many hesitations, the days of the forces that prevent African people and the other peoples from being free, strong and prospering are indeed numbered. The African veins have remained open for a long time. The hemorrhage has lasted long. It is time to stop it. Letters to Africans is full of sorrow and hope, blows and caresses, roars and murmurs, emotions and coolness, cowardice and bravery
LanguageEnglish
PublisherAuthorHouse
Release dateJun 25, 2012
ISBN9781477216958
Letters to Africans
Author

Leon Tuam

Leon Tuam was born in a country that he loves to call one of the African provinces, Cameroon. He has livee in exile since 1993.

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    Letters to Africans - Leon Tuam

    AuthorHouse™

    1663 Liberty Drive

    Bloomington, IN 47403

    www.authorhouse.com

    Phone: 1-800-839-8640

    © 2012 by Leon Tuam. All rights reserved.

    No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means

    without the written permission of the author.

    Published by AuthorHouse 06/15/2012

    ISBN: 978-1-4772-1694-1 (sc)

    ISBN: 978-1-4772-1695-8 (ebk)

    Library of Congress Control Number: 2012910331

    Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being

    used for illustrative purposes only.

    Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

    Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may

    have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are

    solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher

    hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

    CONTENTS

    Native nest

    African Golgothas

    Ah, what about us?

    Africa, O my dearest place of birth,

    We, the people

    He is called Suffering

    Hypocritically

    I found the answer

    Strange African eyes

    The best and the worst places

    The scissors

    The people’s future

    O Africa

    Our African leaders

    I am the father

    African families

    They fail to lift Africa up

    The future of our people

    Role’s change

    Our gorgeous House

    Wealthy empty countries

    The African marriages

    The hooks to fish us

    Mines discovery

    The underwear of developed

    countries

    If we fall down

    In that blue vampiric shell

    Dark broody hen

    We cry, they cry

    Tremblingly

    We can’t wait for God

    About my dances, my clothes

    The bloodthirsty angels

    This piece of shame

    Living abroad

    We must not love the pain

    Because of it

    Mighty law

    Greedy officials

    The future of the world

    They never get the right thing

    If only I could call back the time

    The more we talk peace

    Water hole

    Young men

    Dominated Africa

    Ineffaceable scars

    We are not lazy

    The hunters

    Africans again

    Learn to be ready

    Lost children

    Where was the world, where is the world?

    Colonization and slavery

    Lions and cheetahs

    Arms to the sky

    The day I felt unsafe

    Many doors

    Africa, don’t let me think

    Africans, God created us

    Victims of democracy

    Many bleats

    Mosquitoes, mosquitoes!

    Heart, heart

    Africans, Africans, look!

    The good and the evil

    In the doomed days

    They say it

    Broken-wings-pelican

    If I were an African politician

    Our lands

    We wait patiently

    Foreigners, visit Africa

    Like the ancient Egypt

    We vote them

    Song of tomorrow

    The foreign tools

    A message to the world

    DEDICACE

    For the humiliated people of dignity of Africa.

    Native nest

    I lived on my native Nest and strongly

    I believed in the benefits of goodness,

    I believed in the benefits of peaceful words.

    I tearfully left my native Nest,

    Crossed the Atlantic Ocean and strongly

    I believed in the benefits of goodness,

    I believed in the benefits of peaceful words.

    But when I turned back and saw heavy guns

    Silence the lives of thousands of mouths,

    When I saw bombs and created poverty,

    Hunger and diseases silence children,

    Silence adults,

    Silence elders,

    Silence our villages, streets and cities,

    I met on my way some words

    That I never dreamed of.

    I looked at them and they smiled at me.

    They talked to me,

    They told me that they were the true friends,

    I hesitated to pay attention to them,

    They touched me and showed seriousness,

    They told me that from that time

    They were my best friends;

    I found them helpful,

    I found them precious.

    Compared to the bombs,

    Compared to the created diseases,

    Those words were nothing.

    I bent,

    I collected and

    I started using them profusely,

    To stone the night, to stone and

    Stone the night, the African night.

    African Golgothas

    Africans,

    We have walked many paths of suffering,

    We have walked many roads of contempt,

    We have walked many boulevards of divisions,

    We have walked many streets of destabilizations,

    Walked many highways of humiliations,

    Walked those of frustrations and discriminations,

    And walked those of wrong negotiations and peace,

    Wondering when we will see their ends;

    Sufferings spring out of our faces

    Like an army of worms from dry carrions

    Which are tickled by a heavy rain.

    Golgotha, Golgotha, African Golgotha!

    Golgotha, we climb you,

    And once at your peak,

    Another Golgotha calmly awaits us;

    We climb it and at its peak,

    We hear a strong call and as we look,

    We discover another Golgotha

    That is taller and bigger than the previous ones.

    Golgotha, Golgotha, African Golgotha!

    Black nights, deep African long nights!

    Everlasting deep nights!

    Ah, how many Golgothas?

    How many, how many Golgothas

    Are here on earth for us?

    How can we know? How should we know?

    Sad, angry, tired: we have kept going,

    And reaching the dead-ends of these ordeals,

    We have gone beyond them; far beyond

    And walked, walked and walked.

    Golgotha, Golgotha, African Golgotha!

    Africans, black people: Aren’t we peculiar?

    Ah, what about us?

    Ah, what about us?

    Some people have a season of sadness,

    Then come the seasons of happiness.

    Some people have a season of rottenness,

    Then come the seasons of flowers.

    What about us?

    Africans, what about us?

    The news from our rural areas is sad.

    The news from our towns and cities is sad.

    The news from the hills is sad.

    The news from the plains and waters is sad.

    The news from the forests is sad.

    The news from the savannahs is sad.

    After rain and deluge takes root a good life.

    Africans, what about us?

    Africans,

    Sadness on everything and everybody falls,

    Feeds, plays, sings; and cedes its seat to joy.

    Africans, what about us?

    The sky turns blue,

    The good weather bespatters people with laughter,

    New lives spring out and abound around,

    Rivers, brooks, lakes with their offsprings

    Sing to the world;

    Plants wear exuberant clean clothes,

    Flowers blossom and fall down never to die,

    The leaves’ executioners of the previous season

    Have turned into angels

    And are getting drunk on the flowers,

    Competing with the honey’s brewers;

    Feathered friends in the new clothes are busy

    With songs that put more heat

    In the trees, in the air;

    The breeding moment is a fascinating time

    In the life of the creatures in the nature;

    Season of abundance! Season of peace!

    Season, season of happiness!

    Africans, what about us?

    Sadness on everything and everybody falls,

    Feeds, plays, sings; and goes away;

    Then comes peace,

    Then comes

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