Rise oh SPESA Rise!
A great baobab has fallen!
Its leaves are turning yellow.
The branches are cracking under the harmattan sun.
No more shelter from the green leaves that spread wide across the ocean, from continent to continent. No more stories told as we sat on the protruding roots of its enormous trunk filled with knowledge and experience.
Oh how green we were! laughing at the stories told and like doubting Thomas mocking at the visions he painted for us. Visions of royalty just like the purple it made us wear. Chances . Oh so many chances just like Saul on the way to Damascus. Hope in a generation denied its right to blossom.It was relentless in its quest to make us see just how powerful we are.
Many years after we had tasted the fruit. Listened to the stories found solace in its strong branches we returned for more.
This time not as green as we were but as men and women who have finally understood all what it tried to teach us.
We yearned still for that shelter for that wisdom of the years and the mighty tree was there unwavering and always ready to provide.
Yet with the wisdom of the years and the nurture of its fruits unity was but an illusion.
Its children scattered left and right wanting a taste from the tree for eternity but refusing to gather as one and carry on the legacy of the old baobab tree.
With its dying breath its ailing arms spread wide one last time hoping to bring the lost sheep back to its shelter.
Helas Its cries fell on deaf ears ... the multitude who promised to be royalty now and beyond trashed the royal purple.
A heavy heart ripped into a-thousands pieces.
Its roots weakened by age and disappointment let go of the baobab tree and it bowed out.
From north to south east to west echoes of the fall of the baobab deafened ears. Gnashing of teeth and tears rolled as the baobab tree has left a vacuum so big that none can fill.
Lamentations and cries of pain at the loss of such a powerful symbol in the lives of the royals.
Would this fall finally reawaken the pride of the royals in their legacy? Would royalty finally emerge and take its rightful place? To breed and germinate young baobabs that would carry on the duty of their father or would the mighty baobab be adorned in earthly flowers as songs and choruses accompany its dreams and aspirations into mother earth forever?
By Linda Malo
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