Africa wake up before it’s to late?
Africa North, Africa South, Africa East, Africa West and Africa Central, please wake up now!
Your treasure chest in being looted. Your land being dug up and drilled down and scared for diamond, oil, gold, silver, strategic minerals, rubber, cocoa and coltan. etc etc etc. Shall I go on?
Foreign flags of corporate greed are being planted solidly into your soil, with the assistance of
greedy African elites and corrupt politicians who ONLY REALLY care about themselves, their immediate families (some), their luxury cars & yachts and Gulfstreams and luxury clothes and furs with nowhere to wear but indoors in air-conditioned lounges and parlors and VIP parties with bottle service.
Those elitists and politicians aren’t concerned about the people. Their attention is more invested in their offshore Swiss and Caribbean bank accounts or jet-setting off to Dubai to enjoy some lavish (sometimes) prostitute-assisted weekend or week or weeks of R&R on the blood, tears and sweat of sovereign people they represent with fictitious smiles and often big bellies.
Wake up Africa, I say wake up!
For if you fail to do so, u shall never be able to “Africa Unite” by Bob Marley.
These flags of none Africa blood are sucking Mother Africa dry and bisecting Her up into parcels, being sold to the highest alabaster and lutescent proffers.
Wake up Africa, I say with haste.
Where have all the great African leaders gone? Did the courageous and committed African legacies end with the assassination of Patrice Lumumba? Did the African voice of strength and determination quite with the freeing and graceful aging of Nelson Mandela? GOODLUCK finding them. What would Jomo Kenyatta say? What would Kwame Nkrumah do?
Wake up Africa, seize the moment!
Gather your sisters and brothers! Go tell or if need be vociferate into the faces those corrupt leaders, whether dressed in traditional customary clothes or looking Oxfordish in navy colored blazers with brass buttons left behind by Euro-colonial powers who rolled up their red carpets and headed their behinds back towards Greenwich Mean time. In the now time, knock on the compound gates of the über rich whose hearts are dark yet eyes are gleaming with greed. Go to their estates and villas and divulge them that you have no interest in watching them line their pockets with coin while the life blood of the mighty continent evaporates before you like rain produced ponds surrounded by verdant lush under a blazing African sun, after God’s tears, sounding like a thousand talking drums, dance off tin and corrugated roof topped huts, shanties and shacks, some covered in straw and mud.
Wake up Africa, rise up!