THE INCOMPLETE STORY

I am a continent
I am a race
I am a way of life
I am not a country

The attributes given to me
Are sources of great embarassment
I am mocked for my underdevelopment
I am criticised for my backwardness

My state of poverty
Is always spoken of
Yet they do not remember
That I am rich in raw produce

The colour of my people
Is often discriminated against
Yet none of them acknowledges
That my kins are endowed with talents

I am associated with war
Violence is my given middle name
They fail to recognise
That my decendants live in peaceful communities

It is proclaimed that I have not advanced in technology
That I am very much primitive
Yet no one come to terms with the fact that
I clothe and feed them with my agriculture

My children are disregarded
For being unintelligent
Yet the fail to admit
That my kins are being recruited as professionals

The single story
The blind mind
A misinformed mind when acquired
Destroys the whole essence of knowledge

A single story
Its lethal dose
Robs the mind off
Its intelligence and purpose of education

A single story
Is not enough to make generalisations
Balanced judgements on both sides should be sought
Because the single story is incomplete

Some speak of my barreness and bitterness
They say I possess nothing good
Do they not know
That I flow with milk and honey?