VEGANGELICA

Hello Good People,

Returning to my folk rock origins (leaving metal behind for a moment), here are lyrics for "Africa," which I wrote in June based mostly on observations I made when I visited Kenya and Tanzania 20 years ago and lived in a village for 2 weeks and traveled for 2 more.

I also include in this song more recent information I've gained about the current, historic, political, and geographic causes of continued poverty and malnutrition of many people in in Sub-Saharan Africa. Worldwide 2 billion people live on less than $2 per day and almost 1 billion of those live on less than $1 per day, many in Africa. Low social status of women correlates strongly with people (especially women and children) being poor and malnourished. If you are interested in learning more about Africa, I recommend you view the movies Hotel Rwanda and (absolutely chilling) The Last King of Scotland (about Idi Amin).

Whenever I write lyrics I do so with the tune already in mind, so I have the melody, but slowing me up as I try to convert these lyrics to a full song is that I'm unsure what way to go with the instrumentals. I'm thinking of starting with a simple African sounding beat plus acoustic-sounding clean (electric) guitar that converts to something grittier near the end of the song.

Notes: a kanga is a colorful cloth often used for clothing in East Africa. A zanza is a twangy instrument (you may have made one in elementary school) that has pieces of metal secured over a hole in a sound box. Angelica is a fragrant herb in the carrot family, the roots of which are roasted and used to make tea that is considered protective for women and children.

MUSIC RATING SYSTEM Rating for "Africa" is RI for "Describes the Reality of Injustices in the world today."

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“AFRICA” by Erica

Carry the burden of your heavy load.
Throw banana peels in the dusty road.
Bind your baby to you with your kanga
in Africa.

Work all day in the sweltering fields.
Can’t afford the inputs to get good yields.
Dream about the life in America
in Africa.

Walk two miles to get water from the stream.
Gather firewood to make it boil and steam.
Pound your grain to flour with a grinding stone.
Think what you could buy if you could get a loan.

Cook your corn meal porridge without a stove
out in the yard by the banana grove.
Drink the tea from roots of angelica
in Africa.

Send your barefoot kids in uniforms to school.
Tell them they should never break the golden rule.
Show them wild foods among the flora
in Africa.

Sweep the dirt floor of your mud brick hut.
Wish you had a door and window that shut.
Try not to get malaria
in Africa.

Harvest your maize and your groundnuts.
Take some to the store along muddy ruts.
Hear about a shipment of American grain.
Try to sell your own crops now in vain.

Trade some for shoes to fit your children
and a plastic jug to carry water in
as men in the shade drink a cold fanta
in Africa.

Try to raise the cash to rent your land.
Sell your homemade baskets at a roadside stand,
as your baby sleeps in your kanga
in Africa.

Finish all the chores while the sun is still bright.
Now you and your kids are in the dark of night.
Sing your village songs with the zanza
in Africa.

Try to show your children there is more than toil.
Dance with your bare feet on the dusty soil.
With the moon replacing lantern kerosene oil,
celebrate the tribe to which you are loyal.

See so many stars it makes the heavens seem near.
Think of all you love despite the hard life here.
Gather in these moments of euphoria
in Africa.

In the morning cook ugali corn meal mush.
Try to get your tearless crying baby to hush.
Roast the roots and leaves of cassava
in Africa.

Visit the woman-child health center.
Wait in line to see the tired nurse mentor
for treatment for your baby’s diarrhea
in Africa.

Wish the government would give you property rights
so you could make improvements like water pumps and lights.
Watch your taxes used to shrink the government’s debt
to former colonizers not paid off yet.

See your country’s riches going to the West.
Hear them telling you that it is for the best.
Think, why don’t we live like in America
in Africa?

Try to find enough for your family to eat.
At the market see the vendors selling bush meat,
showing off the hands of a gorilla
in Africa.

Learn that in the neighboring village
rebels have arrived to rape and pillage,
slaughtering your people in this area
of Africa.

Pack a few belongings and try to flee
with your children away from the machete
of the warlords plundering the countryside
as nations are debating, is it genocide?

You carried the burden of your heavy load,
but you end up dead in the dusty road
with your baby beside you in your kanga
in Africa.

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Hi, Stone Birds,
Yes, I've been to the Old Market in Omaha...went to an art store (I love art) and an Italian restaurant. I've enjoyed the Omaha zoo, as well. Omaha is a fun place to visit.
--Erica