Our men are broken – Oh
That’s what they are
Their minds scattered from the things they have seen
The beasts they have been
Our men are bleeding – Oh
Wounded, damaged, dying
In the city, in the mine, in the war
No family, no wife, no life
Sex and drugs be rife
The men of Africa scatter
They scatter and so does their sperm
Never belonging, they squirm
Leaving behind widows and sons
To fend and defend for many suns
Suns that burn
Suns that scorch their blackness
Rays that force sweat from their bowing brows
Bow, son of the soil
Bow, to that which is not your own
Follow on, why don’t you?
You are being led
To fields where fathers bled
To zones where sons fled
For this is your daily bread
Pray … slave … die …
Where do you belong, Asa?
Where are you from?
Who are you, Asa?
What do you know?
Prophet, Hero, Rebel, Martyr, Teacher, Visionary, Revolutionary
Sana lwam, Baba, Mfowethu, Ngwanake
Where are you, when your women need you most?
When your sons need you most?
When they rattle and burn
Shouting, chanting, cheating, beating
What have they done to you, Fela?
What have they fed you that poisons your mind?
That eats at your sanity
What have they done to your manhood
Why does it no-longer stand for justice
Even when chains no longer bind us
It is our pain which imprisons us
It binds us
Come home, Anikulapo
War is waging
The land once more is sick
Sick from taking in the blood of your own
The rains will not fall
The stains will not fade
Come home to your nation.
@2016 Tumelo Motaung All Rights Reserved