You may call me the son of a slave
Because my forebears
Bore a Whiteman's name
But I know who I am
My ancestors may have toiled in fields
Because their brothers
Were not their keepers
But I know who I am
You may mock my new intonation
Because my tongue has
Mingled with another
But I know who I am
You may pronounce me a stranger
Because my face bears
No tribal marks
But I know who I am
You may call me a non-indigene
Because maternal ties
Deny me rights to farmlands
But I know who I am
You may say my land belongs to no one
Because warriors past
Have laid claim to my father's land
But I know who I am
I am the son of Ajakaiye
Conceived in this land
The blood of a freeborn
Runs through my veins
My forerunners bent their backs
Singing plantation songs
They toiled
Their sweat built this beautiful land
That I might boast of being
A son of the soil
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem