Wednesday, May 2, 2012


Let Kenya be Kenya.
Let it be the dream we all dream.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain.
Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(Kenya never was Kenya to me.)

Let Kenya be the dream the dreamers dreamed--
Let it be that great land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was Kenya to me)

Oh, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There's never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor 'black', fooled and pushed apart,
I am the 'wanjiku' bearing slavery scars.
I am the 'IDP' driven from the land,
I am the Kenyan clutching the hope I seek--
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one's own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Kenyan, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean--
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today--Oh, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That's made Kenya the land it has become.
Oh, I'm the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home--
For I'm the one who left dark shores,
To build a 'homeland of the free."

The free?

Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we've dreamed
And all the songs we've sung
And all the hopes we've held
And all the flags we've hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay--
Except the dream that's almost dead today.

Oh, let Kenya be Kenya--
The land that never has been yet--
And yet must be-- the land where every man is free.
The land that's-- the poor man's, ME--
Who made Kenya,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly you choose--
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on people's lives,
We must take back our land again,

Oh, yes,
I say it plain,
Kenya was never Kenya to me,
And yet I swear this oath--
Kenya will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain--
All the stretch of these great green counties--
And make Kenya again!


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