Who stole their colours?

Let us sit, let us listen, the old man is about to speak. He has cleared his throat and he has rubbed his beard. The old man has something to say, let us wait and listen. The old man has been thinking for a long time, and now, he has finished. He has found something to say to us, so let we with no wisdom listen, let we with warm blood find counsel. The old voice is about to speak, shall we listen?

The old man laments, he laments for his people, his descendants and their future. The old man is weary, a generation is being lost, and children of a great people are stumbling. The old man cries for the decay. The old man has to speak now.

 There was a time when bosoms were big and bottoms were bigger. Then there came diets. What happened to the days when bottoms were flesh and not rubber?

Their blood is too hot, their minds too chaotic. Theirs is a hectic existence; they cannot focus and cannot listen. They are loud but the old man is frail. Their mouths are too big and their ears are too small. Who shall make them listen? Who shall speak for the old man? Let the old man speak, though no one listens.

The old man is engulfed, bitterness and regret. If only he could write, he would have a column in crazy Monday. If he had a cell phone, he would facebook and he would tweet. Unfortunately he is from a different world, a world where the drum spoke and the smoke was a messenger. What happened to the old days? The days when black men were men? The days when age commanded honour? What happened to when the night was dark and the stars were king?

Who stole their colour? Who made African women white? Who stole their complexion? There was a time when black women were beautiful, and then they became chameleons. There was a time when bosoms were big and bottoms were bigger. Then there came diets. What happened to the days when bottoms were flesh and not rubber? Who stole our women?

There was a time when men deserved honour, a time when men had self control and the bed of matrimony was sacred. There was a time when adultery was frowned on and the family was sacred, then there came chips funga? What happened to the days when men would raise their own children instead of fleeing like weevils? What happened to honour?

The old man is extinguished. His old voice fails him. He groans softly. His wisdom has been disgraced. He shall soon join the ancestors and they shall wail and gnash. They shall suffer and lament. Their wives shall leave them and their children shall decay. The shall fight and they shall cry. The old man warned them and they never listened.