Lament of a little slave
Yellow, white, red, maroon, black
Black I am, but what do I Iack?
Iron shackles on my ankles
My freedom lost, I was rankled
I am just a child
But am I wild?
We dreamed, smiled, played
Until we were enslaved
We had to behave
Or else return to the caves
Being black is no shame, we needed to be safe
We longed to sail over the waves
Oppression, persecution, domination…
Why don’t I have an education?
Shakespeare, Moliere, Monet
Who are they?
I hear about multiplication, addition
We are humans, why is there so much division?
Mama, Papa, toiling day and night
And being beaten, is that right?
Manioc and maize we eat
For us there is no meat
Sugar and arrack we produce
Our reward is no juice
Whipping, shackling, beating,
We think only of running
Le Morne might free us from our suffering
Even the treacherous cliffs were appealing
I can see the glittering, bitter sea
One day we shall be free
Mauritius my beautiful country
How painful is your memory
By: Safiyah Khodabocus
Write and Win: Participate in Creative writing Contest & International Essay Contest and win fabulous prizes.
