There it lies, the unknown African baby <br />On warm and fertile African soil <br />Its birth place, as supple <br />And tender as a larva ejected <br />From a grain of maize <br /> <br />There it lies with shut tight <br />Eyes as though it knows that <br />Earth is polluted unlike <br />The safe and sacrosanct environment <br />Of its mother's uterus <br /> <br />There it lies in its cradle <br />A mat in a shanty <br />With hands folded into little <br />Fists as though it detests <br />To shake hands with the myriad <br />Of problems in its unsolicited milieu <br />And life <br /> <br />There it lies on its mother's <br />Lap fed with her milk <br />But it is yet to find out that there <br />Are many others that shall <br />Be raised by only its mother <br />That ekes out a living from either <br />Petty trading or subsistence farming <br />Or both, unable to provide <br />Adequately for it and its siblings <br /> <br />There it lies, the unknown African baby <br />Unaware that its fathers, now happy <br />For its birth <br />May soon trigger an <br />Internecine war that would quicken <br />Its maturity, making it either a ruthless <br />Baby soldier or man-soliciting baby <br />Bawd <br /> <br />There it lies resting its head <br />On its father's proud shoulder <br />That displays a questionable manliness <br />But yet to find out he may be a straggler <br />Given to bottles and skirts <br />Which he litters all his unwholesome ways <br />Living worse than an infidel <br /> <br />There it lies sleeping soundly <br />Unaware that problems <br />Will assail it with stress and insomnia <br />When weaned <br /> <br />There it lies, the unknown African baby <br />Spic-and-span in a hand down <br />Under a leaking roof <br />How would it know that it might <br />Wander barefoot and in tatters <br />Being a miserable street urchin. <br /> <br />(C) Chris Jibero. 1990.<br /><br />Chris Jibero<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-unknown-african-baby/
