I remember when this land went on for ever
From White Mountain to the Smoke that Thunders.
Antelope roamed the plains, thick as locusts
And a boy with spear soon became a man.
This was the home of my people.

They say this was always so.
From the beginning all my fathers
Hunted game, killed lions, taught their sons.
A good man with a good wife was happy.
This was the life of my people.

I remember the lake, big as an ocean.
A boy could scoop fish with his hands.
At dusk big animals came to drink
And there was the sound of feathers as flamingo filled the sky.
This was the world of my people.

They say the Big Country was too big for White Man.
He called it Dark Continent and drew lines in the dust,
Lines which we could not cross.
Now when antelope go by we cannot follow.
This was the loss of my people.

I remember when White Man took us into the Earth.
She screamed as we dug out her precious treasures.
”This is mine” he said and took everything.
We worked his mine until we were too old.
This is what became of my people.

They say White Man poisoned sky.
Crops failed and the lake went away.
Now we have no fish, no antelope, no crops
And black men with white man’s guns take away our children.
This is the plight of my people.

I remember when I was strong, long time ago.
Now as I lay in my hut the doctor uses white man's ugly words
"AIDS" and "HIV" and says my blood is bad.
And so is the blood of my babies.
This is the death of my people.

Harvey Tordoff
October 15, 2004