Envision a World: Bior

From Somalia to South Sudan and Democratic Republic of Congo, Scholars share stories of their experiences growing up as young refugees determined to educate themselves and others. Bior Ajak is studying economics and international development at McGill University.

The following is the transcript of a spoken word poem written by Bior Ajak and originally performed at No Más II, a series of public events hosted by KAIROS Canada.

Mother, Land, Motherland

I hate sad poetry. But if the suit fit, wear it. I want a better life, damn it. I can’t stand it, do you see the lives damaged? Seems like hell is on this planet, a man-made ‘cause some evil men planned it! Brace yourselves, we’re in the same boat bound to sink like the Titanic. So, we should all panic. Life is hazy but before you call me crazy, check that you are not insane because when common sense isn’t common, and the abnormal is normal, what we have common is pain. I can write poems but how do we right the wrongs in the country destroyed for long! Slowly wasting like sand through the hourglass as men fight over class. The rich old men declare war and hypnotize the poor young men to fight it while the women flee with hungry children like they asked for it. To be part of this burning hell and inhaling toxic fumes of hate misogyny, like what the hell? Hoping there is light at the end of the tunnel, but they have been through this tunnel and they ain’t seen no light, any day or night. There is no end to this tunnel it’s a crazy maze. The hell version of “The Amazing Race,”, and they hold their bibles singing “The Amazing Grace.” Fleeing to save a generation, the last seeds of a burning nation. Speaking peace fluently, but that’s a foreign language to most. The strength of a woman that builds a nation. Strong enough to endure the pain and kind enough to forgive your disgrace so how dare you confuse kindness for weakness?

Mother, Land, Motherland

“Fight for your motherland!” so he’s told. Barely 12 years old and fighting for a country sold. So, he sips from the cup of institutional lies and now tipsy roaming the land like a nomad 24/7 with an AK47 strapped to his back only to come back dead or institutionalized. Another victim of institutional lies. Could have finished school like his friends tried, but he couldn’t and now his brain’s fried On a killing spree without the question why? So many things he’s not aware, but he’s been told the war is between the Dinka and Nuer. Ethnic identities outrightly politicized, and their basic human rights they can’t exercise. Fighting a war that got no basis, and can’t afford basic needs on everyday basis. The son of the land has set on ethnic cleansing and before the sun sets he has raped and slaughtered every innocent child and woman of the “other tribe.” He’s defile the mother on the land he’s defiled the motherland! And sings the anthem that “God bless the motherland” forgetting the woman is God’s temple! In the darkest of time, when the star on the flag don’t shine, the mother on the land is the light that shine can’t you see there is no motherland without the mother on the land. Strong enough to endure the pain and kind enough to forgive your disgrace so how dare you confuse kindness for weakness?

Mother, Land, Motherland

Now the motherland is destroyed, and foreign troops deployed. The world has come to a decision, a divine intervention, of a peace keeping mission. Peace missionaries that have forgotten the mission. What kind of peace keeping mission rapes innocent girls? What kind of peace keeping mission trades relief food for sex? What kind of peace keeping mission would supply ammunition? In a dire need to restore humanity someone found a job opportunity to sustain a war of vanity. Insanity that comes down to oil wells and dollar bills, no shame that human blood pays your bills. Take your guns back to your stores we can fight with sticks and stones. And let’s see how much humanitarian crisis you’ll be reporting, what the price is for war, am asking! They walk on the blood bath of our dearly departed, the ground is red as scarlet, NO, that’s the wrong red carpet. “Vengeance is mine,” says the Lord, but justice delayed is justice denied, so where the hell is God? Oh, we see God bless the Godless but keep praying regardless of the agony and pain of the scars left. Then he says, “With a gun in my hand I can play God for a change, take a life like I create it, and call Jehovah Witness to witness it as I take justice into my own hands in the name of my motherland destroyed by another man!” But he still has a soul, closes his eyes, hoping to see God, like Saul. So, he can ask him to not let his heart turn cold. And before his heart is frozen, he Let it go. Strong enough to endure the pain and kind enough to forgive your disgrace. So how dare you confuse kindness for weakness?

Envision a World is a series by Scholars that express their ideas for change and a more equitable, prosperous world. Together, this collection of individual accounts forms a vision of Africa by African youth. Follow us on Instagram and join the conversation by posting about the world you envision with #EnvisionAWorld