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IMMULANIE MAKANDE
Nacionalidad:
Malawi
E-mail:
immulaniemakande@gmail.com
Biografia

IMMULANIE MAKANDA

CONSUL - MALAWI

Immulanie Makande is the current Vice President of the Poetry Association of Malawi. He is an educator and entrepreneur. One of his poems was anthologised in a book titled 'The Death of an Idea'

by PEN MALAWI CHAPTER. Immulanie writes to advocate for the rights of women and children.

 

NOT JUST SOMEONE

 To me, just someone you are not

 Gone, to me are you not

 Nothing you mean to me not

 To me, you are what you are

 A mother, a painful night who endure could  By clock, day it would look  But by the tears, washed would the stinging rays  A creator, who never saw a day of rest  That well-built craving to mama me  Even three times king’s income not matched  Travelled not you to the endless abyss  To fetch but little me?

 Did father not shame you

 When from another womb born did I

 Crushed, uncared for, left you howling

 Quenched not your throat all Lake Malawi water  Mother! Take me home, embrace me  You are not just someone to me  My mother you are always  Happy mother’s day mum  Yours faithfully  Lost son

 

ON BEING TOLD MY FATHER HAS DISAPPEARED

 The sun has set

 My dad isn’t home yet

 A dark cloud about to break into bitter tears  Loud thunders wail deafening my ears  Nobody saw my father, they say, nobody knows  It’s one of the nobodies who has him  Has harked him, and drunk his melanin-deficient blood  To cut his arms and legs  In this age, nobody does nothing  Nobody sees something, drinks something  Nobody breaks rules, nobody loves nobody  And yet nobody does everything  Hoping nobody knows it  In the past, we had everybody, gone  Now it’s nobody

 

THEY ARE FORCING ME

 They are forcing me to marry

 Saying, I shouldn’t behave like Virgin Mary  Defiled virgin or like virgin Joseph  For I’m not the chosen  Every time I’m passing they see me with awe  Twitching faces that say; “I’m not happy alone”

 Or I’m growing thin due to madam palm and her five lovely daughters

So- they are forcing me

 They are forcing me to marry

 Listen! They have gone hunting a man for me

 They- feel like I don’t see

 The chances, the boys, the men, browsing, surfing,  Scanning, scrutinizing, perusing, flicking through  And my ears are deaf to the language of love

 For- I have lost a bunch of men as they gained  So, they are forcing me  They are forcing me to marry

 Because- they say they see me growing horns  Or drying my bowel, growing a third foot or my kisses are losing taste So- I need to haste in marriage and soften my face  With kisses, caresses, embraces, cuddles, hugs and squeezes  Father marriage will shut the door like Father Christmas  On 26th December, the problem is, I should always remember  That no additional 24th December shall come for me  They are forcing me to marry-  A man I hate to greet  They are forcing me to marry-  A woman who scares me in my dream  Between him and me, there is nothing that’ll last  But when they see the separated we  They say “we love each other”

 “And our love was written to end at the altar  They’re forcing me to marry  And that’s why they call me a dog, saying;  “I sleep- with everyone no matter how bad they smell”

 So- protecting their significant other, they put them in a cell  And as their marriage breaks, they’re pointing a finger at me  Lord! Where is my Adam, for my country has few men  So much that three or four of my kind should say “I do” to one bastard And they’re forcing me  They are forcing me to marry  My uncles, brothers, sisters, fathers and mothers  They want me to feel the love they once felt  The happiness they on one occasion shared  The problem is- I’ve never seen them in love  And pleasure runs away from them like fire from water

 So- let them push and sing songs that will eat me away  I know, they are forcing me

 

 

PHILEMON MUNEZERO

 

A Crying of My Mother

 

Carried an unknown burden,

Countless days and nights,

Waited for the last day of pain

Curiously with tears.

 

She was beautiful but ugly

She was slender like a door

Black than charcoal

But pampered like a mall

 

Between twin trees

A cursed seed rose up

Without water from the world,

It survived the drought

 

Thrown away like a small stone

Beaten days and nights,

Starved and died alive,

She wept and shrieked like a child.

 

She ran in a farm trying to save

The cursed seed,

For not realizing the bitterness of the world,

The cursed seed rose up and forgot the drought.

 

Fighting with her blood

Crying and praying for it

No god could hear her crying voice

But only the pretending cursed seed

 

The pungency of the life was tired--

Of the tears of the mother,

She cried for the last

The problem pitifully died.

 

Born Dead

 

They fought and quarreled,

My eyes ran into my feet

Scared and exasperated,

Saddened by the wrath of the beasts.

 

 Raised in the battle of angry lions,

Taught forgiveness is to execute

Lost myself and died young

The kinship meant nothing.

 

 The love of the mother

Have I never seen?

Hidden in the darkness

The kinship meant nothing.

 

Human but no humanity,

Alive but died mysteriously

Traumatized with no future

Wish were I born dead.

 

Dear Africans

 

Dear Africans,

We share many things if you see it in every angle

Whether you black, while, yellow or any other colour.

The African blood, love, spirit should be in you

Though we seem not care about it.

 

Did you know that being African doesn't mean to be black?

You might be white but you're from Africa.

That blood that flows in your body,

That body you got from your mother or father,

The brain; intelligence you have but you are motherland is sinking,

Can't you use them to build your nation?

 

Building the Nation Building the Nation,

Which follows with i did my share to build my nation,

Why do we think we had already done our part

While we are still energetic to serve?

 

You call yourself African and you sing it wherever you go

And you put on clothes with your nation's Flag

Just to show where you come from.

Yet, your fellow Africans are dying of hunger in your neighbourhood

They do not have clothes and it's difficult to afford education

But, you always change cars like shoes.

I am not blaming you what you worked for

And it's of paramount importance to our nations

To have people like you but we need your help.

See children sleeping on streets with worn out clothes,

The early pregnancies occurring in your continent.

Can't you give a hand?

 

Dear Africans,

Who leave their nations for their own benefit

Studying, living, working and visiting the Westside

Do you sometimes think of the country's benefit?

Our minds are poisoned by the stories from the West Window

That the better life is nowhere than there.

Remember there's no place like home.

 

Our countries are at stake because of us,

Our skills are being used in unmatching field,

We take care of old people there just to earn a few,

We clean their bathrooms and pools

While we have degrees with skills which can be used

To serve our countries.

 

Globalisation is good because we benefit from it,

Travelling, working everywhere we go,

But, Africanisation is better than that

I bet.

We only have to strive for patriotism

And the love of our nations should be prioritised

In order to make our Africa a better place.

 

Desarrollado por: Asesorias Web
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