By Masimba Biriwasha | Op Ed | January 03, 2013 | @ChiefKMasimba
I am African. And if you listen to the winds of Africa, you’ll hear them whisper my name. Not in vain. Nor sorrow. But in full, firm acknowledgement of my being. Within my bosom I carry an eternal flame and with it I blaze my path into a future untold my held high and shoulders thrown back.
I can feel the thrill of expectation hanging in the air as I navigate my way through cobwebs that have held me back in limbo for so long. My soul’s eyes are aglow: I’m now journeying into new frontier. I’ll collapse all my worlds, seek out my image and carve a new name.
I refuse to be bowed down by past and present shackles. Instead, I’ll amalgamate all those experiences to build myself anew. I am the flame-lily, born out of hard rock – my desire to rise and bloom is unstoppable. Out of the dark, bloody and soggy soils from which I am fashioned lies the seed of my rebirth.
My soul sinks deep to find that seed so that I can be one with it. I crave no sympathy. Neither do I need handouts. I am my own whole. I carry no hate nor fear. Only a passion to make a fresh cut of myself. In fact, all my failed hopes and false starts lumped together will make the operating system for the redesign of my sonic reality.
Out of my sinews, I will weave a new song. That song of many worlds traversed and journeys travelled will be the footnote to my resolve to be one with myself again. Uncluttered. Unchained. Only determined to leave footprints along a new path that will make my ancestors gape in awe.
I refuse to be hamstrung in old, worn-out legacies. I’ll stand on the pedestal of all that transpired to bring me to today and I’ll frame myself in my own terms.
I am African. And if you listen to the winds of Africa, you’ll hear them whisper my name. As I connect with my present being, I’ll release my sails toward outward bound. Gently, with grave, I’ll give voice to the cataclysm brewing within. The monkey whispers are going now. Within me are kingdoms of queens and kings reviving. Drumrolls nudging me to excavate the beauty of my soul.
I’m the African you’ve never seen before. Born of stars in the milky way. Non refurbished. True to the core and connected. With a singular aim to sing a lullaby to the seed rising within. Fashioned out of dark soils to dream and dance and be one with the moon.
I am African. I’m coming into my own now. My destiny prepared me from the beginning. I’m old and new now, yet distinct, mutating on my path to perpetuity. Writing my own future. A thousand lights of sun will guide my path.
I am African. Toying with moments of freedom in my palms. I thrums in tune to the drumbeat call of generations of soul, of pain and joy rising above the spontaneous eruption of life, uncontrollable, unbounded, free of constriction or constraint in its purest form. Beyond those hills and balanced rocks. Beyond those vineyards and gardens if you listen just a little close you’ll hear the winds of Africa whisper my name.