You shine on me like the Egyptian sun in between the pyramids. Your love bubbles in me like the ranting Nile on the tough & rough rocks.

You still baffle me like the Akan and Ge’ez scripts. If your heart was written in hieroglyphics the gods would teach me to read and comprehend it. Be sure if your love was the golden stool I would never stand.

For your soul burns in me like an eternal flame. You make me, my mind, hotter than an Axum’s iron smith hearth. The Sahara for you I would cross, the Limpopo and Volta too. The icy caps of the East of the soil would be too small a challenge. Just to rule over like Mutesa or Manza Musa and their ancestors too. Am a Moor, a conquerer, a ruler of the world; worlds and the universes. Dark but I shine like Congolese diamonds and valuable than its gold. For your thought soaks me like the equatorial rains of big Afrika’s rainforests.

Osiris know this:
Mama Afrika my love for you is beyond description and to the magical Kwaito hits we dance, and your wicked drums that enchant wild thoughts too. Your gods and goddesses… you float me into wonder and for sure I wander into this religious cosmos and entrenched philosophy trashed by those of ego and bigotry, but now, I see you rise and crow confidently like the original experienced rooster of the village.

For the voices of the unknown trashed gods and ancestors speak and stir this generation ‘Hailstorms in Afrika’ should be their new titles if they desire to sell how their forefathers sold on our ignorance. Souls are burning, heads are on fire, petals are blooming, it’s raining in the Sahara, stars are shining in the darkness of the land and they rage like black mastiffs in hot pursuit of a bunny… mental dreams.

Greatness has been sown on this mysterious soil just as its peculiar nature. Home of hospitality where the old care for the young and the young for the old. Our unbroken bond of love to strangers dignifies our dark stature.

Your wisdom from Pretoria to Alexandria they come to search for and quench their thirst on. From North, West and South their home East of the mysterious soil, but some deny, but a lie is a lie even when painted on the sky or the shadow of truth, but the truth has no shadow.

They took whatever they could, but our courageous pertinacious hearts and mentality they couldn’t.

Now times are ripe to pluck fruit and let every that has interest in this bumper harvest set foot on the land where chocolate rivers flow and nature and humanity have lived in peace since then, except for few in whom the serpent from “nowhere” has entrenched amongst with stale propaganda.

Let’s be naïve but know humanity for what’s civilization without it? The hen is brooding legends, world changers, politics, sport, revolutionaries to academia. Men and women of philosophy and humans with humanity and meek souls that dream for the universe. Still this is the land where our strength has been repressed in our weakness of humility.

Watch out for poets who’ll stir your soul and philosophers who’ll make you question the foundation of your truth. Just before you begin to think let’s maneuver around something else with feather swift ease like our world class sportsmen from all corners of this strange land and take a moment to meditate at our religions, the ethical and moral beacons all washed down… faded like modern skinny jeans.

These are the reverberations of the hearts of a sleeping giant’s children, a recuperating beast. The flotilla is offshore with no compasses but ultimate direction in mind. Still home is the land where the love boomerangs to, itself and its history is a mystery, so am gob smacked with awe and potentially oozing like the fourteen falls with love and swampy with happiness like the Okavango being part of this great puzzle that still hasn’t sank into their super ego.

Let our artistes blow their souls and emotions with their silken voices and the lulling lyrics get us into those zones… Maybe our ideograms have been a little harder… We sing of love come see it with your own eyes and if she could be the bride she definitely would be the one my heart desires coz she’s been there for me. Not I alone sing this, ask the hummingbirds too.

Viva Afrika!

THE TIME IS NOW to sting like a bumble bee and give them a taste of the honey too. I still hope and pray that we’ll unlock this ancient code for all to witness.

THIS IS A NEW RACE; AND RACE. “Musukuru kuvashiranga” because we know only here where its god given from the beginning… What are you waiting for? Africa this is revolution leave the pain, fear, “hunger” and corruption. Stay united and ignited. Afrika is on fiiireeee! Burning inside of us, stand up and conquer from that smart free wild jungle.

“Afrika tunakupenda like whoa you got us feeling whoa… whoa.”


– Karani Walter.

8 Replies to “A New Race: and race

  1. This is a heavy dose of calculated, cultivated goodness. Wow. We’re all in this race together.
    #TeamAfrika all the way.💪
    Cheers Walter!

    • To agree with you: would be to mimic your comment’s potent observation!
      ALL I can say; after rereading this work of art by Karani – numerously- I will say: it’s a
      great day to be ALIVE!

      Maestro KARANI! Kudos.

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