D1 English Literature and Language students have composed their own poems in response to Kipling’s The White Man’s Burden. This creative work accompanies their study of the novel Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.
By: Jennifer Gatheca
Our land is ours!
You seek nothing but to exploit it
Passed on from our ancestors it was
From the high mountains to the low valleys
Even when you come to devour them, you too are in awe
You claim you have come to save us
But we whom you call savage and foolish know of your plans
For ages we have lived in harmony
We shall not stand for manipulation and cruelty
Our land is ours!
We do not need your help
Send back your sons, for they will meet with resistance
All because we join hands in unity and solidarity
To fight against your supposed assistance
Our land is ours
And we shall fight for it ‘til the very end!
By: Makeya Van
The white man in Africa,
A gift from the Gods.
What he has done,
I can’t help but applaud.
An unsung hero,
Forced his power on these nations,
Through exploitation, murder and rape,
Brought an entire continent into devastation.
The white man in Africa,
He was just trying to be nice,
How else would these ‘pagan animals’
Be civilised without any strife?
He embarked on a long, treacherous journey,
To a land so foreign and discrete,
How did he tackle the lions, the cheetahs,
The scorching African heat?
The white man in Africa,
Whisked away gold and oil like a magician,
But would you like a stranger
Taking all your things without permission?
Taking your home, your dignity,
Enforcing his rules on your life.
Ignoring your fearful kindness,
And doing as he liked.
The white man in Africa,
I can understand his intentions,
But there is one thing so foolish,
A claim beyond my comprehension:
To call it a burden,
To make yourself the victim?
While you destroyed so many cultures
By imposing your ‘perfect system’.
By: Joan William Ritte
I yearn for something
More than what had before
Wine?
Beads?
Silk?
No, not that
Though never put to mouth
I can taste it
So close yet far
Papa died in agony
Searching for it
His time came
Before he found it
I don’t want to end like papa
It’s sold they say
At high price
I saved for it
When thought it’s enough
I went to shop
“Sir, it’s not enough,
Give us what you have, go get more”
For it’s sweetness
My land deed I gave
Labour I gave
Sweat I sweat
More coin I saved and gave
“Sorry Sir not yet enough”
Huh!? Now what
For mercy I pleaded
For discount to be given
Much to dismay, it was never given.
One thing I noticed
Every time I went
The shopkeeper got fatter
I’m not alone
Many did same
Many will do same
Yet nothing to get
Refund non-existent
It will never be enough
What else should we give
For all is left is breath.