Young Ignorance '2

I dont know any African heroes Only the city slickers on their quest for seven zeroes Teach me the names of the fathers of prose And how with blistered fingers and eager minds of listeners from ashes they rose Show me how the prisoners of yesterday freed the modern-day indoctrinated show me, I say. show me how the doomed generation told the tales of today's black nation I yearn for the soulful teachings of coffee-stained pages, dog ears and ragged edges Africa who are your children Africa where are your heroes Africa who are you? Are you the mother and bearer of all things dreaded Blistering sun, venomous gun, father of famine and Saviour to none? Are you the giver of disease That brings demise with utmost ease Your off-spring hangs from crippled trees and their breed dies of HIV Africa who are you? Show me the ladies of literature Who's sudden death was premature They once upheld our heritage Their souls replaced with hearts of rage Show me my Africa I read of her in history books I saw her flaunt her flawless looks In the words of the fathers of prose Where are they? Those African heroes Where are they?