That time is hard time.
Sometimes you don’t want someone to say sorry.
They understand how you feel.
Because you can’t believe that person.
How you feel is deep down far in you.
Deep in your soul
No one can see and understand how.
When you know that no one who can repress the loved one.
That is hard time.
Time can pass
Memories can fade
Feelings can change.
People can leave.
But hearts never forget.
Pray that hard time can’t ever knock at your door.
HOPE
I have a hope that one day everyone is going to be equal. Equal, not because of money, not because of his or her originality, but only because of all of us we are human beings. I have a hope that one day people are going to be happy to stay alive everywhere they will be.
I have a hope that one day Africa is going to be one.
I have a hope that African people will see how badly hate between them, greed and to be used, is damaging their future and future generation, when some still use excuses of history.
Hope that time will come, to go back to their original culture of love and unity.
And see how love and unity is strong weapon and is everything in life.
African people, these days they travel around the world. They see different culture and characters. I have a hope that this is going to help them to come back to their original culture, culture of love and unity which will help them to make Africa one.
I am old lady who was born and grown up in Africa all of my life until 2004 when I come out of my continent for the first time.
I didn’t know the beauty of Africa and African people until I was out and away from that beauty. That is how and when I come to get a good picture of why African people were tortured for so long time, since slavery time until now there are still a problem of free market… but I have a hope.
In all of that time they were given the disease of killing their culture, culture of love and unity, which was a long illness and slow deaths.
No matter that Africa is rich with good resources, 80 per cent or more of African people have stayed very poor while the rest stay very rich. But I have a hope.
In my life, being people who like to mix with different people, I thought that I knew European people and their life, but when I lived in Britain in November 2004, I realised that I know nothing about them.
At first I was able to talk to some people, but others was a problem because of my accent.
It took me time to be used to their culture. I used to say hello on the street back home, but here when I say hello to someone, sometimes they look at me as if I am crazy, instead go back to talk to their dogs! Don’t expect that your neighbour will knock on your door to say good morning, and don’t do that to them either, because they might call the police if you knock on their doors.
But not all of them. There are a small number of people who were happy to help and if I asked to go somewhere they were ready to show me or to take me there.
I read somewhere in one of the newspapers in 2004, that in Germany, they want to start a school to teach people to laugh because they’d forgotten about it. Then I thought that even in Britain they need a school like that, because a big number of people have the same problem. There are some who are left only with what they call a smile; this is to pull their lips to the sides for half a second.
I come to meet a lot of old people who told me that they have never had a family for themselves and it was their choice, but instead they stay with their pets. So, to me, seems that is why they look as if they don’t have enough contact with people and the good friends they have are their animals.
Maybe that is why some leave their fortune to the animals when they die.
Others have separated from their families for many years and they have forgotten each other. Someone told me that if he met his children he wouldn’t recognise them when they still living in the same area! There is a lady, my friend, who told me that she doesn’t know if her mum is still alive or died! She doesn’t know anything about her for over twenty years!
And when you talk to a person like that for some time, no matter how much money he/she has, they do not have a happy life.
I come to see some cases in the news, of children, sometimes fifteen years old and below, where they go together in big numbers and enjoy killing old people or other children! They even advise parents to carry their babies on their front side to keep them safe; when back home they know that back side is best side and comfortable for their babies.
That is a kind of life which I never saw in Africa. I felt sorry and it hurts me to see some young African people, who came in West countries knows that they came to heaven, ending up cut communication with their families back home because of the bad situation they are in. But I have a hope.
I have a hope that in future the majority of African children are going to be happy and proud to stay in their countries and to gather to build their continent.
And don’t think that if you get a British passport you are recognised as full British. They are very careful here, because you have to remember to remind them who you are, every time you want something, when you fill some forms at that time you have to show your ethnic origin.
But on the other hand, this is good; some can be comfortable and forget that they come from somewhere else.
Before in Africa it was taboo and a curse to kill someone except in war, yes I came to see why in Britain they try everything to encourage people to be good to their neighbours by giving medals to someone who was good to others. Something which, to Africans, even their culture had seeds of hatred for long time, they still have in them, that their neighbours are like a member of their family, so it is their responsibility to help each other, at least 90 per cent. And the rest, history is judging them. But I have a hope.
After 1994, when genocide happened in my country Rwanda, genocide which happened in front of the whole world and everyone was watching as if it was a film.
Rwandan people started reconciliation which was a very hard step but they had to do it, and it was successful day by day.
I have a hope.
I AM WHO I AM
I am who I always wanted to be
I am me.
Changes didn’t manage to change me
Hunger and anger didn’t change me
I am who I always wanted to be
I am me.
I am mother and grandmother
I give peace and I give love, I mediate.
I am fighter and I am survival.
Ancient histories of pain didn’t change me. I am who I am
I am who I always wanted to be
I am me.
They are time I was behind
They are time I was in motion
They are time I was vigorous
They are time I was exhausted
And they are time I was in danger
But nothing changed me
I am who I always wanted to be
I am me
People wonder where my secret lies
Most of them see it as a mystery.
Something which makes me proud
Nothing managed to change me.
Racism didn’t change me
I use my magic to be leader and ladder
I am honest with myself. I am who I am
I am who I always wanted to be
Black beauty, a writer, I am the universe
I am who I always wanted to be.
I am me.
I HAD A MOTHER
Mother
Who was too beautiful
Medium height
Medium weight
Beautiful smile
With shining black beauty
But people loved her for her good heart.
Kindness with good advice
Helping everyone around her.
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That mother we both knew.
We have her photo in our heads and hearts
Whose countenance moulded the contours of our own, in
Those marrows pulsed primordial blood
From a deep well of knowing
Her glances met ours, seeking
In close comfort we were carried
On her supple back
On her powerful hip
There was permission
To shelter in the landscape of her back, her breast
To stroke her soft black hair with wonder
To take refreshment from the clear pools of her eyes
Whose clear gaze gave back her own constancy.
We, children and mother born to this mechanical peace
Where glances are badly timed.
And her joy was that we blood bond of an unbroken bond
Should survive her and in courage, bring others whose
Clear gaze back her own constancy
Take one, add two, add three and four, then five and six
We, children born
To this mechanical age where glances are badly timed
Joy was that of we blood of her blood
(Daughter to mother, mother to daughter) both daughters and sons
Both sense the measure of loss
Yet pound to her great body
In flight from dangers on camel’s back
On moccasin trails
In dreams we are not altogether bereft.
Mother to daughter, daughter to mother.
Our beautiful mother.
Bagorebeza
We will be with us always in our hearts.
JOURNEY
Always journey, which always hard
Journey is hard for us
This journey has no mercy to anyone
Except those who are lucky.
Let me call this journey
Journey of struggle
This journey has no respect, no fear of us.
It does not mind if you are a scholar,
Rich, young, wise, beautiful, just hold your breath.
It will take you up and down.
Many times to reach the end of it, you need to be still.
Hoping and waiting, what tomorrow brings.
Say tomorrow and wait for tomorrow
Sometimes the more you try,
The more you are disappointed
Then you ask yourself.
Why me? Why me?
The journey seems cruel
Cruel and painful
Especially when the journey carries you faraway
Away from your people,
When you lose your loved one
When you think that no one cares about you
Some few people are lucky ones
So lucky because they
Have everything needed in the world
The four important things in life
Good health, happy family, love and money.
True enough, this journey.
Is the journey of life?
Journey of life means journey of struggle.
LUCK
What is luck?
Many of us we believe something called luck, luck in different ways.
Or luck in all ways.
Some ways of luck, we create them ourselves, or many, if not all.
You can count yourself to be the lucky one, depending what is in front of you.
Count yourself the lucky one, if your work or your family doesn’t colonise neither dictate to you.
But why can’t you see your luck, when you see day and night? See yourself lucky if your children they are not breathing in swilling dust and the noisy life.
When your children don’t eat little and die young.
When your sister, daughter or mother didn’t get raped by gangs.
When a loved one, someone close to you doesn’t die or half die because of feeding herself/himself with drugs in her/his vein.
When no one close to you dies or half dies, because of ignorance.
Ignorance of power or family members, all because of selfishness.
Count yourself to be lucky, when do not dislike yourself because of who you are.
Maybe because of your disability, or you can’t do much like so and so.
You are worried because you are too dark or too light.
Because you are unloved as a child.
You are not worried that they are talking behind your back.
You don’t mind what others think about you, and you have full confidence to do what you think is better.
Then count yourself to be lucky, especially when someone tells you that she/he loves you.
The love which is not covered in any shining pursuits of business.
And know that the power of love, doesn’t have to turn to be the love of power.
When you are not creating many different planets in one.
When you know that the best things in life aren’t things.
When you can be able to love yourself, and have time to think about your neighbour.
When you feel free to run the riot, and fight for your survival, to have your freedom.
And most of that: when you’re proud of your history.
Count yourself to be the lucky one.
CONGRATULATIONS BUT THIS, IT IS THE BEGINNING
I feel alive when I write
I want you to know why I write
But I fear to write it here
Because I am the victim of the truth
I refuse to keep quiet
I want you to read my poem
My poem is poem of pain
OOO no no no
My poem is not poem of pain
My poem is poem of celebration.
Let me say how it was
They treated you as a monster
When they turned themselves into monsters
With hate race, all of that simply because of your colour.
Your heritage
They put you in prison
Prison of fear
Fear of yourself
By bereave that you can’t.
For those years of suffering
Years and years of teaching
Chant, chant, teach, teach and cheating
In verses but riches tortures
From your mothers crashed your lives
Forget this wound in the earth
Forget this scar in your hearts
Mark the grave your heart
You lived a life of neglect
What you wanted at that time
Was room of justice?
They clenched your mind
They killed you by ideologies
In such of directions
You refused to perish
You refused to die that day
You didn’t die yesterday
You waited to be recognised
And now it is your beginning
To have your dignity
To love yourselves
To be free at last
Thank God our God
To be here today and see this celebration
And now you have your dreams
Let us sing Harerujaaaa
In the whole world with all races
Now no black, no white or Asian
We are the universe.
No more time of slavery
Time of dying again and again
Let me mark that grave of your soul
And be able to test happiness
Just keep your history
That once your color was shame
But now it is time to know that black is beauty.
Let me salute Oprah and others
Who was behind the struggle?
To help the mother to give birth to your dream
Martin Luther King’s dream
That birth was not easy
That birth was long journey
That birth was hard struggle
They had a hope and behind the mother
Mother push, push, and puuuush
I am pushing
I am trying
But at last the child was born
The baby kicked his legs
Kicked that wall of his mind
The mind of change
Ahahaaaa
Was gasp of joy?
Your heart banging doors
Doors of dreams
Doors of freedom
I saw doors opening in slow motion
At last you have your beginning
You don’t mind if they wanted him for their reasons
You have him for your dreams
It is you Michelle Obama
Congratulations Michelle
From slavery to first lady of United States of America
It is our honour Michelle
This it is the beginning
But at last you have the beginning.
Congratulations Mrs Obama
NAME
What is a name?
A name is an identity for everything
Say a name I will know what you mean
Animal, tree, water, food all have names
But different names
Planets too, have names.
Our planet which we have today has a name
We have different continents, with different countries
And different names.
We too, human beings we have names
Names which are our identity
When we say our names
It helps us to know where we come from
Which country, sometimes which area and which community.
Me too, I have a name.
Ooo my name!
Bamurangirwa is my name
I am proud to have my name.
My name is everything to me.
The meaning of my name, it shows me my parents’ love for me
My beauty, my name represents my country and my community.
I thank very much my parents, Bagorebeza and Sinzi
My parents, who gave me my name
I am proud of my name.
Bamurangirwa comes from (kuranga) announce.
You announce something you are sure of
Something you believe in
And something you are proud of that it will not let you down.
I am happy I didn’t let them down
Name is identity.
QUESTION
I have a question
A question about foreigner religions in foreign countries.
Patriotism Page 8