Spring

Two poems by George Moses Horton; "On Liberty and Slavery" and "To Eliza"

George Moses Horton was born in Northampton County, North Carolina, approx. 1797 (d. 1883), as a slave of the Horton family. He learned to read and write while being hired out by his master to the president of Chapel Hill and he was a campus character there. He wrote love poems for the students at 25 or 50 cents a piece according to the degree of ardor desired. Then fugitive poems by him crept into print and in 1829 his first volume titled The Hope of Liberty was published in Raleigh, which made him the first southern black to be an author. The same piece of work was later republished in Philadelphia in 1837 as Poems by a Slave but he did not earn enough to buy his freedom. However, he escaped to the North when the Northern troops occupied Raleigh in 1865, and he became a free man, and during that same year he published another work called Naked Genius.

Here is "On Liberty and Slavery":

"Alas! and am I born for this,
To wear this slavish chain?
Deprived of all created bliss,
Through hardship, toil and pain!

How long have I in bondage lain,
And languished to be free!
Alas! and must I still complain -
Deprived of liberty.

Oh, Heaven! and is there no relief
This side the silent grave -
To soothe the pain - to quell the grief
And anguish of a slave?

Come Liberty, thou cheerful sound,
Roll through my ravished ears!
Come, let my grief in joys be drowned,
And drive away my fears.

Say unto foul oppression, Cease:
Ye tyrants rage no more,
And let the joyful trump of peace,
Now bid the vassal soar.

Soar on the pinions of that dove
Which long has cooed for thee,
And breathed her notes from Afric's grove,
The sound of Liberty.

Oh, Liberty! thou golden prize,
So often sought by blood -
We crave thy sacred sun to rise,
The gift of nature's God!

Bid slavery hide her haggard face,
And barbarism fly:
I scorn to see the sad disgrace
In which enslaved I lie.

Dear Liberty! upon thy breast,
I languish to respire;
And like the swan unto her nest,
I'd to thy smiles retire.

Oh, blest asylum - heavenly balm!
Unto thy boughs I flee -
And in thy shades the storm shall calm,
With songs of Liberty!"

"To Eliza":

"Eliza, tell thy lover why
Or what induced thee to deceive me?
Fare thee well - away I fly -
I shun the lass who thus will grieve me.

Eliza, still thou art my song,
Although by force I may foresake thee;
Fare thee well, for I was wrong
To woo thee while another take thee.

Eliza, pause and think awhile -
Sweet lass! I shall forget thee never:
Fare thee well! although I smile,
I grieve to give thee up for ever.

Eliza, I shall think of thee -
My heart shall ever twine about thee;
Fare thee well - but think of me,
Compell'd to live and die without thee.
"Fare the well! - and if for ever,
Still for ever fare thee well!*""

* Last two lines is from "Fare thee well" by George Gordon Byron.

Songstress Marsha Moyo

Zambian Marsha Moyo is a powerful singer, author (of a book called Zambia: Women Celebrated) and advocate for Zambia concerning the UN millennium development goals. She extols women worldwide which is heard on her album Women Celebrated which is recorded in different musical versions for each continent. She has performed at the sixth African Development Forum on Gender Equality, Empowerment and Ending Violence against Women in Africa. An inspirational woman.

"The Black Mother"

The Black Mother written by Marcus Garvey.

Where can I find love that never changes
Smiles that are true and always just the same,
Caring not how the fierce tempest rages,
Willing ever to shield my honored name?

This I find at home, only with Mother,
Who cares for me with patient tenderness;
She from every human pain would rather
Save me, and drink the dregs of bitterness.

If on life's way I happen to flounder,
My true thoughts should be of Mother dear,
She is the rock that ne'er rifts asunder,
The cry of her child, be it far or near.

This is love wonderful beyond compare;
It is God's choicest gift to mortal man;
You, who know Mother, in this thought must share,
For, she, of all, is Angel of your Clan.

My Mother is black, loveliest of all;
Yes, she is as pure as the new made morn;
Her song of glee is a clear rhythmic call
To these arms of love to which I was born.

I shall never forget you, sweet Mother,
Where'er in life I may happen to roam;
Thou shalt always be the Fairy Charmer
To turn my dearest thoughts to things at home.

"A summer's dream"

A Summer's Dream. A poem by Marcus Garvey which he wrote on the 24 February, 1927.

A poem so dear to me because it tells of the fear of loosing. Still, a sweet, old love poem.

"As I lay asleep at midnight,

A thought came stealing over me:

A shadow of a great disaster,

The passing of my Love at sea.

I heard the chimes of Angelus,

It sounded sad but ringing clear;

I had a glimpse of dear heaven,

For my Love was a-going there.

The ship was lost in the ocean,

As the storm had raged and past;

Every soul was clothed in sadness,

But my Love was firm to the last.

I stretched my arms out to rescue,

But my Love was already gone:

A burning light stopped my vision,

It was like shining glare at morn.

There were Angels in the Heavens,

And sunny flowers strewn around;

The singing of Royal Cherubs

Had a pleasing Heavenly sound.

I can almost see how clearly,

There is a passage made above;

The angels are a-welcoming

The spirit of my dearest Love.

I am left with my dreams, alone,

In a cold world of sin and care,

For my Love is gone forever,

With happy Angels, bliss to share.

I tried to enter into Heaven,

But the gates were closed to me;

The Guardian of my destiny

Had not then set my spirit free.

I struggled still with the vision,

For it was a-torturing me;

My Love was taken to Heaven,

And the sweet face I could not see.

At last I came to my senses,

I found it was a summer's dream;

My Love was still right beside me,

A creature perfect as could seem."

An ill world?

It hit me hard when my father became ill last year in the middle of December. It made me think a lot about health and how highly exposed we are to ads. How big a threat are they to us?
They have the cure for an easy meal in our stressed day, and an unhealthy way to perceive humans as merely markets which equals an ill body and mind. Western people with money live in a so-called priviliged society but still I cannot skip the pictures of western people dying of heart diseases and so on as a result of a wrong lifestyle, and girls starving themselves to resemble manipulated models in advertisements on bus stops. Not only becomes this carrier-centered, fast-living life normal but it also sneaks the unnessary luggage with it.

That led me to....millions and millions people suffering from chronic starvation.
White people have led a biological warfare and dehumanization against people who lived on land which had a certain value to newly capitalist Europe. They brought diseases intentionally to every continent they sat foot on. 90% of the population in Central and South America died in less than a century. Some from diseases which were endemic in Europe. That does not mean the native population was particurly weak, they were just not used to the kind of diseases which the Europeans had plenty of.
Europeans brought animals to South America which decreased the value of the hunters in some societies, and thereby destroyed them piece by piece. The native Americans were wiped out on purpose because they were in the way. First they were used as slaves, when that did not work out they were to no use.
Tribute to be paid to the 'masters' of the colonies is an obvious sign of oppression and later assimilation, when the colonialists moved away from products as payment (such as raw materials etc) to money which meant the native people had to work in an European sense where they receive a salary.

Africa, South America, continents considered underdeveloped are not weak, behind or any of the bad images Europeans try to put onto them through the media. There are horrible problems in Africa but they were caused by, firstly, centuries of 'trade' that led to an extremely low population compared to pre-slavery and secondly, colonialism which stole the natural resources and changed the diet of innumerous people that led to the poor state of health.

Today the target group is practically everyone falling for the inventions of supposedly smart men making money. Money bills made of cotton, such a perfect way to illustrate slavery.

To be a healthy human has just as much positivity in it as it has a good diet.
'Good news' do not seem to survive their journey to the surface of the media, but positivity is an element desperately searched for in this ill world. Positivity is an act which starts from within as well. A positive spirit does not fall for negativity.

Are we independent in a society where we need voices, not our own, to pave our way?



Wipe your mind once a week and enjoy a fully home-cooked meal. It can do wonders.

Wisdom Chitedze

Wisdom Chitedze is a Malawian poet and singer who is known for songs like Tipewe and Misonzi but I got to know him from a piece he have written. It is heart touching and quite funny! Read it for yourself (edited):

'I'm 100 % man. I was born and raised a man, I will die a man. And as a man, right now I feel very sad, very ashamed, and very angry with myself! I look back in human, and my personal, history and I see a trail of needless pain and sorrow inflicted on women by, or as a result of, us men.
We've been irresponsible fathers, abdicating the throne and forcing the women to assume our responsibilities because we didn't show or pitch up. We've not shown love and kindness to our own. Busy doing "man things", whatever that is. We've substituted the provision of things as the logical and justifiable alternative of our being present, our being caring and loving.
We've been irresponsible brothers, cousins, uncles, friends and fellow citizens. We have not protected the women from harm, we've seen them raped, we've seen them beat upon, and we've seen them vilified with words more lethal than arsenic laced daggers, eviscerating tender hearts and hardening souls. Sometimes, as men we've been the perpetrators not the spectators.
We've promised women to be true leaders; gentle lovers and responsible fathers and we've lived to be the beast to the beauties. I'm tempted to pray that you be infested with camel fleas in places you cannot scratch! We've squandered dreams on booze, gambling, hare-brained get-rich-quick schemes and sleeping with anything that wears a skirt and answers to the name of she!
We've not done what we should, but we have done what we shouldn't have done! We've forgotten our anniversaries, your birthdays, our valentines and the kids' birthdays! but we've remembered to pay for cable, we've remembered to pay for the new plasma and groovy cell phone, we've remembered our own mother's birthdays and wondered why you didn't seem to care!?
We've come home after a day of work and you've tried to reach to us and we just zoned out. You've dressed your best and when you asked us whether you looked good all we said was "uh-huh" but when we were telling you about how our lady workmates were dressed, we did it with so much enthusiasm and were so animated. Sisters, you just had to blow a fuse and give us a bad-hair day! It seems we've the right for you to give us time so we can unburden our hearts, but not vice versa!
It's as if it is inn the constitution that a man gets "it" when he wants, how he wants it, where he wants it. But when you want it, you must give valid reasons as to why otherwise you are a wh....e!
The babies are yours, "Uhm, honey, the baby just poo'd, you need to change the diapers, uhm, darling, the baby's crying" etc. No matter what you are doing or how you feel, we are always busier! Or we say you are better with the kids than we are and so abscond from our duties so we can watch football, wrestling, fashion TV or play Need for Speed till the early hours of morning!
My sisters, my sisters, my sisters. How do I undo this pain? Years and layers of disrespect, abuse, trauma and unmet needs? We've abused you in the name of religion, love, the law, money and so on.
My mother, my sister, my cousin, my aunt, my friend, my colleague, my comrade, my daughter, my niece whatever colour, race, age or creed you are. I'm on my knees as a man, apologising.
I acknowledge that we've done you wrong and hurt you and you didn't deserve it. You deserved better. You are beautiful, you are a miracle, a wonder, but we have treated you like trash, objects, currency, means to an end, occupations.
But it is not enough to apologise and make amends for the past, when the present and the future hold a possibility of a repeat and thus this becomes a fool's errand, rantings of a madman.
In this instant, I become the individual. The one who pledges to start as a person, as a man to make a difference. If I can't agree with you, I'd rather walk away, in peace and leave you with your self-respect and my respect for you than do you wrong so I can feel powerful or vindicated in any way.
I know I've blabbered a lot, but maybe it's because I know it cannot be enough, but it's a start and it's something.
Sisters, I'm sorry.'