Please, Bring Them Home
Where Their Names Are Not Hard To Say
I am very old,’ he said gravely. He added, as a matter of course:
‘I’m glad to die in Africa.’
'And why?'
'Because this is where mankind began.
The cradle of humanity is in Nyasaland. It’s been pretty well proved.’
'Odd reason.’
'One dies better at home.'
'Yet another one, I thought, who’s trying to find a home on earth.
— Romain Gary, The Roots of Heaven
Bring them home
not to the metropolis
with city lights and broad streets
but to narrow slits of village paths
and mellow birdsongs under tree shades
Bring them home
not to the cinema houses
and their popcorn pubs
but to the village square
for masquerade displays
and barefoot tournaments
Bring them home
not to the discotheques
and smoke-filled nightclubs
but to the guttural sounds
of the ancestral drums,
the sassy violin strings
of crickets by their holes
and the soft benevolence
of the moonlight nights
