Mama Africa! Your children have been kidnapped! Your sons and daughters are being slain! Your house has been besieged! Oh, your house is remaining desolate. You taught your children well. You taught them love and unity, And how they could farm together, Gather into one granary, And share with the less fortunate. You taught them harmony. And they could gather, And share Ebusaa, kong'o made from honey and mkomboti, From the same pot. They used to dance to the drum beats together. You taught them peace, They could settle their differences without bloodshed. Children could play together regardless of tribe, Since they knew that they were all your children. Your children could gather, And share the Igbo fufu, kwon with Omena, and mokimo from the same plate, They could eat roast meat together, Around the same bonfire. They could share a blanket with the homeless, Suffer together and rejoice together. Oh mama Africa! The sword has arrived! Your children are being slain! Slain by poverty and hatred. Slums and posh residences coexist side by side. Boundaries are drawn by tribal lines, Some places for Hutus, and others for Luo. Past some lines, no Gikuyus are allowed. Your children throw excess food into the bins, As the emaciated hungry look on. Inequality has become equality. And hatred is the only love remaining. Many of your children, Have been maimed, killed and left homeless, By tribal, political and religious clashes. The mercy that you taught them, Is only shown by torturing, maiming and killing. Oh Mama Africa, Oh Mama Africa!