There was a beautiful girl there who wrote poems and shared one with us , and then later shared a few more with Will. I love this poem because it asks us to examine what exactly we have built our "civilized" society on. The second to last stanza is incredibly profound... but I'll just let you read it.
I Speak For the Bush
by: Everett Standa
When my friend sees me
He swells and pants like a frog
Because I talk the wisdom of the Bush!
He says we from the Bush
Do not understand civilized ways
For we tell our women
To keep the hem of their dresses
Below the knee.
We from the Bush, my friend insists,
Do not know how to enjoy!
When we come to the civilized city
Like nuns, we stay away from nightclubs
Where women belong to no men
And men belong to know women
And these civilized people
Quarrel and fight like hungry lions!
But, my friend, why do men
with crippled legs, lifeless eyes
wooden legs, empty stomachs
Wander about the streets
of this civilized world ?
Teach me, my friend, the trick
so that my eyes may not
See those house have no walls
But emptiness all around;
Show me the way you use
To seal your ears
To stop hearing the cry of the hungry.
Teach me the new wisdom
Which tells men
To talk about money and not love,
When they meet women
Tell your God to convert
Me to the faith of the indifferent
The faith of those
Who will never listen until
They are shaken with blows.
I speak for the Bush:
You speak for the civilized-
Will you hear me?
Some of the words she writes have hit uncomfortably close to home. Today started out with a reminder of how wretched I really am. As we were in a rush to get to Huruma Children's Home, a young women, probably in her teens, saw us and ran after us with a baby on her back and a begging cup in her hand. She walked with us for blocks saying " Please madam, some coins. Baby is hungry". The day before we had been told by a Kenyan friend not to give to beggars money, but to give them food, and at the moment we couldn't see anything open. So I looked into her eyes, saw the pain of her existence, then looked away and said in an embarrassed voice "No."
After the experience I keep thinking of the parable of the sheep and the goats, and realized I had refused to feed Christ in one of his most distressing disguises. I remembered the WWJD bracelets that I used to wear because they were in style and didn't require much moral obligation, and was crushed by the fact that if Jesus had been present, he would have behaved so differently. Probably, Jesus would not have seen her as a beggar or prostitute, but only as a child of God.
God help those of us who have sealed our ears "to stop hearing the cry of the hungry".
by: Everett Standa
When my friend sees me
He swells and pants like a frog
Because I talk the wisdom of the Bush!
He says we from the Bush
Do not understand civilized ways
For we tell our women
To keep the hem of their dresses
Below the knee.
We from the Bush, my friend insists,
Do not know how to enjoy!
When we come to the civilized city
Like nuns, we stay away from nightclubs
Where women belong to no men
And men belong to know women
And these civilized people
Quarrel and fight like hungry lions!
But, my friend, why do men
with crippled legs, lifeless eyes
wooden legs, empty stomachs
Wander about the streets
of this civilized world ?
Teach me, my friend, the trick
so that my eyes may not
See those house have no walls
But emptiness all around;
Show me the way you use
To seal your ears
To stop hearing the cry of the hungry.
Teach me the new wisdom
Which tells men
To talk about money and not love,
When they meet women
Tell your God to convert
Me to the faith of the indifferent
The faith of those
Who will never listen until
They are shaken with blows.
I speak for the Bush:
You speak for the civilized-
Will you hear me?
Some of the words she writes have hit uncomfortably close to home. Today started out with a reminder of how wretched I really am. As we were in a rush to get to Huruma Children's Home, a young women, probably in her teens, saw us and ran after us with a baby on her back and a begging cup in her hand. She walked with us for blocks saying " Please madam, some coins. Baby is hungry". The day before we had been told by a Kenyan friend not to give to beggars money, but to give them food, and at the moment we couldn't see anything open. So I looked into her eyes, saw the pain of her existence, then looked away and said in an embarrassed voice "No."
After the experience I keep thinking of the parable of the sheep and the goats, and realized I had refused to feed Christ in one of his most distressing disguises. I remembered the WWJD bracelets that I used to wear because they were in style and didn't require much moral obligation, and was crushed by the fact that if Jesus had been present, he would have behaved so differently. Probably, Jesus would not have seen her as a beggar or prostitute, but only as a child of God.
God help those of us who have sealed our ears "to stop hearing the cry of the hungry".
4 comments:
This poem was actually written by Everett Standa & you do not have it in its entirety. I suggest either googling the author or trying to get your hand on the book, "An anthology of African Poetry" Cheers!
~kip~
Sincerely, Ndume is right- this poem was by Evrett Standa- this is plagiarism!!
Well said, this is plagarism!!
This is Everett Standa's work!
I have tried to correct the mistake. Thank you for the correction.
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