I Am A Child Of The Black Soil Poem by Sindiswa Nobuntu Ndamane

Every day I face the suffering of Africans
I wake up to see the beauty of the valleys,
I don't smell coffee but breeze from the Nile River,
I touch wild animals and spend time with them fearlessly,
I count the stars every evening,
The skies are always peaceful.
While the conflict of hunger strike on land,
I am the child of the black soil.

I listen to the rhythm of djembe,
And they make me feel deep roots I was born into,
Unlike the western music which bring lust and impossible desires,
I am able to feel the African in me,
They talk of Father Christmas,
I'm pretty sure he does not come here,
What I know is that the Son of Man is born.
They talk of tooth fairies,
All I know is that I'm burying my childhood heading to adulthood.
They talk of Easter bunnies,
But I feel pain of the cross
There's nothing I can believe,
I am the child of the black soil.
Under our suffering we are adapted to death,
Like poisoned ants we lie and be blown by wind,
Our histories are never recorded,
Because we never have a chance to say much,
Infants never get a chance to go to Disney land,
But they wait for a vaccine that will never come,
They are born to be a perfect picture of a sufferer,
I look at myself and think,
I am the child of a black soil.