THE NOCTURNAL EXPEDITION

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Africa visited me In my dreams last night.   Did you hear that? I dreamt of our inception last night. I brushed on the very first strand of hair Placed by God Herself on my fragile, infant head. I walked through the past and the future al...

Africa visited me

In my dreams last night.

 

Did you hear that?

I dreamt of our inception last night.

I brushed on the very first strand of hair

Placed by God Herself on my fragile, infant head.

I walked through the past and the future all at once last night.

I chased my son through the park

As he chased after an intricately designed, priceless kite.

It wasn’t strange once I knew what I did.

She put herself inside my lucid dream

And there was nothing I could do about it.

Here’s how it happened:

 

She double-stepped into my room,

Wearing a torn dress that used to be white.

Startled, I asked her if she needed help,

But she insisted she was alright.

 

We sat in dead silence

For what seemed like five eternities.

She motioned that we sit on the balcony,

Where on arrival, she dropped to her knees.

It was awkward,

So I started some small talk about poverty and the spread of disease.

Just as I noticed that she was pregnant,

She pulled out a cigarette and some rolled up leaves.

 

I was about to protest when she,

With unbelievable strength, pulled me by my hair.

She asked, “How dare you tell me what to do,

After all your burdens I’ve had to bear?!”

“Well, damn”, I replied,

“Would you let go of my hair?”

She pulled out a carton of beer from her navel.

I asked, “What’s that doing there?”

 

She ignored me for a while,

So we spent another two eternities

Tip-toeing through the deafening silence of our thoughts.

She broke my trail of thought, saying,

“I don’t remember the last time I was sober, you know?”

I giggled and said, “Me neither”,

But was met with a stern look.

She reprimanded me right down to the first cell in my brain

Stupid enough to think it was funny.

The nuclei in each cell that constituted me collapsed in shame.

“Sorry”, I sheepishly said.

 

“You don’t embrace these things they brought you

To keep you imprisoned in yourself”, she scolded.

She was slurring by now,

But was alert enough to read my thoughts.

She was about to defend herself,

When she vomited over the balcony threshold.

 

When she was done,

She broke down on my balcony.

She wept uncontrollably until,

Again she was brought to her knees.

Like a child who protects her abused mother,

I too wept as I bombarded her with pleas

To “speak to me”.

 

She spoke, alright.

She spoke of how she had tried and failed

To unscramble the colonial egg.

“They cracked all their whites onto my land,

Your legacy”, she said,

“And convinced you that there’s too much fat in the yolk

- YOU’RE THE YOLK”.

The yolk of Africa’s egg was too far gone.

Her mystical loins had been so violated,

She was surprised that any part of her lived on.

 

She took my hand

And proceeded to take me on an expedition through time.

I took a lengthy walk

Through dreams last night.

She told me that’s where she kept all her secrets –

Secrets of the past, present and future.

She said,

“When you learn to trust your dreams and have a say in them,

It simply means you’ve been granted the slightest bit of insight

Into the possibilities that lie in your full potential.

It’s all clues.

Many of my children are oblivious to this.’

 

As you can probably imagine,

Time travel is quite exhausting,

So, Africa now lay in my bosom,

Mother and child reversing roles.

It is my duty to return her to herself –

A powerful entity she no longer controls.

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