Do you remember Ocol? He said, What is Africa To me? Blackness, Deep, deep fathomless Darkness; Africa, Idle giant Basking in the sun, Sleeping, snoring, Twitching in dreams; Diseased with a chronic illness, Choking with black ignorance, Chained to the rock Of poverty, And yet laughing, Always laughing and dancing, The chains on his legs Jangling; Displaying his white teeth In bright pink gum, Loose white teeth That cannot bite, Joking, giggling, dancing.... Stuck in the stagnant mud Of superstitions, Frightened by the spirits Of the bush, the stream, The rock, Scared of corpses. . . He hears eerie noises From the lakeside And from the mountain top, Sees snakes In the whirlwind And at both ends Of the rainbow; The caves house his gods Or he carries them On his head Or on his shoulder As he roams the wilderness, Led by his cattle, Or following the spoor Of the elephant That he has speared But could not kill; Child, Lover of toys, Look at his toy weapons, His utensils, his hut.... Toy garden, toy chickens, Toy cattle, Toy children. . . Timid, Unadventurous, Scared of the unbeaten track, Unweaned, Clinging to mother's milkless breasts Clinging to brother, To uncle, to clan, To tribe To blackness, To Africa, Africa This rich granary Of taboos, customs, Traditions. . . . Mother, mother, Why, Why was I born Black? Enzi hizoo, kumbukumbu wadau F Born.