Zimbabwe: I Dreamt of Nehanda

I dreamt of Nehanda; had visions of her standing in the middle of a treeless plain that seemed to shimmer as the sun’s rays refracted off of the early morning dew that sat atop long blades of grass; golden flat-leaved grass that seemingly swayed to the rhythm of an unsung melody as the wind swirled through the landscape; and in it I heard the hidden chorus of whispers; heard the voices of our ancestors tell tales of creation, tales of nobility, purity and strength; She said “my child, look to the horizon, close your eyes, then set your soul free, let fly, let it rise”; and so I began to rise; I flew over rivers that meandered through the land and cut through the fertile earth; and as I sailed through darkening skies I felt raindrops; heard them pitter patter on grass rooftops as mothers sheltered their hungry sons and daughters from lightning bolts and thunderclaps; I heard screams permeate through the humid air and as I strained to peer through the foggy haze of the storm I saw baron, blood soaked lands stained by the blood of Nehanda’s children; in this spiritual realm I saw the graves of those that came before me and every tombstone was etched with the summary of a tragic story; they spoke of brother killing brother; knife in one hand, baton in the other; they told tales of shady politicians intoxicated by greed; a greed that seemed to erode any remnants of compassion & remorse; they spoke of a people blinded by darkness and bound by the chains of helplessness and hopelessness; indeed I saw a world through tainted eyes; I saw my people’s yesterday, today and the uncertainty of our tomorrow; I saw joyful smiles turn to crimson tears and peace of mind turn to anger and fear; I dreamt of pain, heartache and betrayal; I dreamt of a potent greed, misery and strife; I dreamt a dream of shattered dreams; I dreamt of Nehanda; and she told me to look to the horizon, close my eyes, then set my soul free, let fly, let it rise.