my latest book purchase was Moetsabi’s poem collection. I bought it from a second hand selling place for little less than 1 euro.
The cool thing about it or sad however you view it, that the author left this book in gratitude towards those who housed him while he was staying in Smederevo.
It is published by the Zimbabwe Publishing House in 1992
There are 75 poems in the 86 pages long book. They are heavily politically induced and here is where I turned really sour for it. I started out with this book wanting to read diverse authors voices and to get a perspective of black authors representation in poetic literature.
The entire book revolves around Africa, its standards and how the World influences their sense of self which is fading under the oppression of their own leaders and the white men who bring the goods to Africa, Moetsabi writes bluntly about how they sell themselves for a tin canned food package and how they have to life by rations of food and water.
How the factories don’t give work to those who are desperately wanting to earn money. He writes about the bedbugs biting them and suckling on their blood that is the only thing left in their bodies because they are all skin and bones. Moetsabi writes about the plagues, the lack of vaccines, the poisonous waters.
So coming to the conclusion that it is an eye-opening work, least likely to be known to people, I am unwilling to discuss any further or support anything regarding to the black lives matter movement. in regards of lacking the diversity, the way african people are swept under the rug and silenced, only featuring obese, lazy, social aid sucking vampires who are the loudest to shout about it, I’m unwilling to favor it or support it in any way, until the black lives matter movement will stop focusing only on african-american people of color, and won’t bring up into their spotlight just as much Africa as one of their own heritage, since it is the same blood running through their vein… until they make it transparent just as much as they make marches about their own lives, and stop the “it’s not happening where I live so it doesn’t concern me and has nothing to do with me” attitude, until then I don’t wish to be engulfed in any sort of petition signings or any awareness raising actions.
“Zimbabwe the dying culture
Africa the dwindling roots
Of kingdoms abused
They took all
Left whisky to blow the mind
Was it not the storming of petrol depot
That lit city and country
That sent abusers aflight
When afternoon pain
Conceived our gift ”