From the collection No More Betrayals
Darkness that glistened
Under the rays of Ammun,
Decorated with a twirling chain
Of water, of life.
They called me Kush,
Most beautiful,
Most trusted, and
Most endowed.
For Min hid in my depths
Innumerable treasures,
Blanketed with layers upon
Layers of fertile land.
I used to walk head high,
The darkest of the dark;
Unmatched, and unsurpassed.
All vied for my attention
Or so I thought!
First, they came as suitors;
Regarding my dimensions,
Sizing up my pride, and
Noticing everything that caught my eyes.
Next, they came bearing gifts,
Enticing me to need? Need?
A word so foreign
To the abundance, I know.
Well-wishers,
Or so I thought!
They pulled my ear
Whispered propositions
Of barter and exchange.
Took advantage
Of my hospitality, and
Remained.
Permanent guests? Nah!
More like leeches,
Living on my blood,
Like termites,
Won’t stop until
All my substance is sapped, and
My frame is broken.
The conquest had begun,
My child! It had begun.
They came one after the other –
Turks, Arabs, Anglo Saxons and
Their myriad of proxies.
And me, Kush.
Most beautiful, most trusted, and
Most endowed.
Am defiled, raped, and pimped.
Pimped, I tell you pimped…
Royalty brought down to muddy rags!
What was hidden in my depths,
Unearthed.
Veins of my life turned into
Channels of their poison.
And my children,
Your ancestors
Were displaced, and
Wrest into slavery.
Then came:
A day after night after day after a night of:
Exploitation, and dehumanization
Enslavement, and slaughter,
Wars and murders,
Genocide and ethnocide.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust and
The rest you know.
At least the versions told to you
By those to whom my victimization, was
A burden of the spread of “civilization.”
And by those to whom,
It was for the proselytism
Of a foreign god, who excuses and
Rewards the brutalization of life, life.
The brutalization of my life.
Surely, he is not my God.
I am the land drunk off
Of the blood of my children.
I am the land witness to all and
Accuser to none.
I am the land,
A testament to blessings beneath and
Horrors above;
I am the land
Here from the beginning,
There to the end.
I am Kush,
The Land of the Blacks.
Hopelessness,
Is a luxury I do not have,
For my pores are open
To water and blood.
My hope is in the wisdom of my youth.
In their recognition
That this circle of violence
Must be stopped.
In their cognition
That their unity
From Beja to Paarl, and
From Ceerigaabo to Nouadhibou,
Must be achieved.
Surely this whirlwind of destruction must cease.
Yɛ̈n, Kuc/Thudan*
Yɛ̈n acï mäm/gum apɛï.
Yɛ̈n ŋic, nyiac a bi naŋ ɛ̈ɛ̈r;
Ŋogthdi a tou ke yiin, menhdi.
This last stanza is in the Dinka language, and it means the following:
“I, Kush/Sudan,
I have suffered a lot.
I know tomorrow will be brighter;
My hope is with you, my child.”
Apuk Ayuel Mayen 