To my children,
If your father is considered a ja-mwa
(foreigner) in my mother’s land,
And me in his mother’s
I will curve my people’s traditions
With my nurturing arms onto your skin,
And rest you on your father’s shoulders that he may show you his.
So when they ask you where you are from,
You will tell them with your head held high
“I am a child of many nations”
Do not let them call you a dilution of culture,
You are gold,
I will teach you my people’s language ,
And your father his people’s ways ,
We will let you have both worlds at the palm of your hand .
You will say ,
“I am a child of many people”
We will paint your room with portraits of our hero’s ,
We will save you from mockary ,
From yearning for identity .
You are Gold my child ,
The blood of different cultures runs in your veins ,
You will be shaped like spoken word and all its rhymes schemes ,
In both lands you are home ,
You are not a ja-mwa .
I will write it down on my breast ,
So as I nurse you,
You will read it over and over ,
” I belong to a bigger world ”
And when they ask you if you know Any of the two tribes ,
You will remember how your father taught you how to speak in his people’s tongue,
And how I sang you my people’s music ,
And you will tell them ,
“I know both like the back of my hands ”
You are not a child of tribe ,
You are not of child of race ,
You are a child of Africa ,
Wear your pride my Treasure ,
You are Gold.
Dedicated to all the people who were born out of intermarriage .