Friday, 29 October 2010

Mali my ancient home (poetry and photographs)

Mali! Dust off your koras
And let your ancient songs rise.
Turn your palms, leathered from
Farming and toil into cymbals of joy.
Mali my ancient home
Mali! Clear your throat with milk
From your many fattened cows
And let your songs rise again;
Till drumming and dancing fill our huts.
Mali my ancient home
Mali, your ancient kings won’t return.
Your scattered children won’t converge
Until fresh lullaby sneaks out of your tight lips
And resurrects their sleeping spirits.
Mali my ancient home
She who runs today, once slept and dreamt.
Mali, your breath assures me you live but sleep.
Wake up Mali. Let your ancient blood boil
Till the greatness we see in our dreams come true.
Mali my ancient home
Mali. Rise. Mali. Sing. Mali. Mama. Mali.

I WANT TO BE A TEACHER- ALIA’S STORY:

In another life, Alia should have been finishing Senior High or be in the university already but she’s not complaining. In fact, s...