It is in the eyes

It is in the eyes.., that is where the story lies.., in the eyes. You walk into distant places.., the stale smell of poverty hanging timelessly.., in the market place.., in the shebeen.., in the Hotel.., you hear the laughter.., you feel the laughter.., and you feel their warmth. On murky.., muddy streets.., the kids play.., on street corners.., the youths hang.., the smoke thick and pungent.

Africa.., a beautiful continent.., a beautiful people.

But.., the eyes, they tell a different story.., hope lost.., time lost.., a future smoke it embraces.., this is just another sad story the eyes tell. Africa.., it is in the eyes.., you will seek its understanding in books.., in Marxism, imperialism, in church, in the temple, in the mosque.., but there the story of this continent you will not find.., for its story dwells deeper in the eyes.., so deep.., its depth you can discern.