Here is a poem i wrote about Wangari mathai for our legends banquet on the 25th of Feb 2006. Who would have though i would ever write a poem about Wangari Mathai!?
Up Africa! Up!
"Seeing Kenya through the eyes of Kenyans will forever change the way you see the world." - Wangari Mathai
Whispering Willows
I sit staring out of the window
Looking past the willows,
Swaying in the mild and mellow wind
Swaying like whispering palm trees
Whispering soft calls for salvation
Whispering soft sighs, longing for self preservation
Whispering…
“I know he’s coming!
Can you hear them? NO?!
What so you mean?
What’s wrong with you?!
I know he’s coming
Coming to cut me down
To hack through my skin
To watch me bleed and not care
Coz its alright as long as no one stands and calls this unfair
But wait! You can do it! You can be the one!
You can defend me
You can make him go away!”
I’m taken aback
Unsure of how to respond
For one thing, trees aren’t supposed to talk!
So why do I keep hearing voices form the whispering palms?
And anyway, why me? Why do I have to do the defending?
I need defending!
I feel a churning in my stomach
Feels like that ‘fear of the unknown’ kind of feeling
That all too well known kind of feeling
That ‘afraid to get up on stage’ kind of feeling
Like that ‘how can I pick you up when I’m kneeling’ kinda feeling
I want to back out, back up
Sit back, rewind, get out of the way,
Do anything but sit down, and stick this through,
Do anything but stay
I want to wait, at least until tomorrow
Why??
Coz this isn’t easy!!
Its never easy, the walk to action is never easy.
I reminisce, thinking on times gone by
Its was so easy, back in the day
Yeah, it’s always easier back in the day
Os is it? Its must be right?
Otherwise why would people sing song like…
“Bring back those simple days of, yesterday…”
But is it really? I think not!
Coz when my eyes emerge from behind the vial
And the smoke screen of illusion and fantasy is pushed aside
I see that yesterday is just as hard as today is just as hard as tomorrow,
Is just as beautiful as yesterday, today and tomorrow,
But the fact is, all we have is today
Not tomorrow,
Not yesterday,
Just today
I know it’s not easy
But as Nelson Mandela said
“There is no easy walk to freedom”
Yeah, that’s easy for him to say!
Sure he was in prison for longer than I’ve been alive,
But now he’s an ex-president and people speak his name in hushed toned, with a reverence usually reserved for saints!
I on the other hand, I am just,… just… me!
Who’s going to listen to me?
Pleading, asking them to let the trees be
Who’s going to listen to me?
Scenes flash before my eyes
I can’t tell for sure but I have a feeling it’s the whispering palms again
They are speaking to me again!
This time not with words but with pictures
Pictures strung together with invisible seams
Pictures strung together to form scenes
Scenes too harsh and terrible to put back into words
Words lack the weight to express the hurt
Hurt so deep it threatens to drown me and leaving me aimlessly drifting into oblivion
I think I final understand
Because now as I see the man approaching,
Wielding his axe high in the air, like a soldier ready for battle
I shudder at the thought of what I know I am about to whiteness
The axe begins its ominous decent
3 NO! Don’t do it!!!
2 STOP!! You don’t understand!!!
1 STOP!!!!
BANG!!
I cringe as I see the axe sink six inches into the willow
And I hear the familiar crack of breaking bark and splitting skin
But alas!
The tree doesn’t bleed!
Instead, a steady stream of red comes coursing out of the mans side,
The blood is dark, as if tainted with sadness
I finally understand
So I turn back to the willows
Swaying in the mild and mellow wind as the north wind bellows
Swaying like whispering palms that speak in my dreams
Whispering soft calls for salvation
Whispering soft sighs, longing for self preservation
I turn to them and say,
“I WILL defend you.”
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