I speak for the bush
When my friend sees me
He swells and pants like a frog
Because I talk the wisdom of the bush!
He says we from the bush
Do not understand civilized ways
For we tell our women
To keep the hem of their dresses
Below the knee.
We from the bush, my friend insists,
Do not know how to ‘enjoy’:
When we come to the civilized city,
Like nuns, we stay away from nightclubs
Where women belong to no men
And men belong to no women.
And these civilized people
Quarrel and fight like hungry lions!
But, my friend, why do men
With crippled legs, lifeless eyes,
Wooden legs, empty stomachs
Wander about the streets
Of this civilized world?
Teach me, my friend, the trick,
So that my eyes may not
See those whose houses have no walls
But emptiness all around;
Show me the wax you use
To seal your ears
To stop hearing the cry of the hungry;
Teach me the new wisdom
Which tells men
To talk about money and not love,
When they meet women;
Tell your God to convert
Me to the faith of indifferent,
The faith of those
Who will never listen until
They are shaken with blows.
I speak for the bush:
You speak for the civilized-
Will you hear me?
Everett Standa
moinget & sonoek 