Africa, Africa, Africa. Open your heart and see the pain of your children. Open your eyes and see the tears in the eyes that are writing this. Living in fear and wonder has become a part of us Africans. We are not safe in our brothers’ houses and by that I am referring to the African countries.

Oh what happened to being your brother’s keeper?

Oh no, another report came in, there has been another one found dead in an open field. But we were moaning the death of another just yesterday. What a sad time to be alive. All reports have something in common: teenage girl killed by boyfriend for breaking up with him. Is this what you call love?

If it is, then I’m afraid we will continue burying our fellow Africans in the name of love.

Listening to the radio, a video circulating of a number of girls beating one another to death and they say it’s for love. What happened to sisters before misters? Oh what happened to the true definition of love?

Growing up, my parents taught me to love the next person as I love myself, but how do I do that when I might be signing my death contract when we have an argument?

Africa, I am sorry, I had to speak up.

I praise the Lord whenever I see my fellow brothers coming back home in one piece. Because in this lifetime we live for waiting for bad news. Days have become carriers of bad news to one’s family, no one is safe, we do not know who is for us and who is against us.

God, you said you love your children equally, but Africa seems to be suffering the most. I am not questioning your authority, I am just crying out that you show us the love the holy book speaks of. You said you are love, but why does it seem like you have forsaken Africa?

It has become a norm to bury one of us each weekend, not from a natural death or sickness, but because an act of violence. Or because one young mother left her few-weeks old baby out in the cold to die because she wasn’t ready for parenting. Oh there is more. The man does not want the kid so he gives the lady money to abort the child. Boy kills girl because he saw her with another boy. Oh the poor boy was jealous. She was butchered by her boyfriend because she wanted out of the abusive relationship.

My poor soul, the things we have normalised as Africans cut me through the heart and it bleeds for help. Man is abused by wife because the wife works and he does not. Men kill themselves because speaking out about their problems and abuse is not manly.

Oh Africa. It has become a trend to inflict one another with pain and call it love.

If that is love, then no thank you, I do not need anyone’s love. I am alright by myself if that is love. I am sorry if my definition of love has been wrong all this while. And if this piece of writing offends anyone, I’m sorry. But please tell me what love is because I am lost.

Maya Angelou in the poem Caged Bird said, “The caged bird sings with fearful trill of the things unknown but longed for still”.

We are caged birds but by the looks of things, it doesn’t seem we want to be free, all in the name of love. Yes I blame love because that’s where it starts and unfortunately that’s where life is ends as well.

So long as we do not know the meaning of love, as Africans we shall continue singing amagugu each weekend. If that is love, I’m not giving out my own love. If that is love then I will have a heart of a stone and be stubborn. For I still want to live and bear witness to where all this will end.

Love is a good thing if given correctly.

Africa, you are called the Mother Land but mothers ought to take care of their own children. I am ashamed to be living in such an era with such a sad generation full of “happy pictures”. Africa, restore your identity, your children are crying out for help – hear them.


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