Imagine calling our own ancestors evil spirits
While hailing European ancestors as saints.
“Uncivilised”—a word used to shame our cultures,
While “civilised” means embracing foreign beliefs.
What could it be that made us believe this?
If we were a tree, we would try—
Because we forgot our roots.
We disconnected from the soil that birthed our souls,
Traded ancient wisdom for fleeting goals,
Forgot our purpose and our unique roles.
What could it be that made us believe this?
Maybe colonisation didn’t just take our land and resources—
It reshaped our thoughts and perceptions,
To the point of forgetting our identities.
We were not like this.
We are not inferior. Please—
But what could it be that made us believe this?
In the land of Zimbabwe, where beauty resides,
A tale of struggle, where truth often hides.
From Kariba’s waters to Nyanga’s peaks,
To Victoria Falls, whose roar still speaks.
Emerald light shines from its misty embrace,
Great Zimbabwe—an ancient, artistic place.
Hwange’s wildlife, raw and grand,
A heritage etched in nature’s hand.
Yet one would pack her bags with courage,
Fleeing slanderous words and economic wreckage,
To lands less generous,
Where discrimination is dangerous.
Why leave this soil so victorious—
Is it truly foolishness?
What could it be that made us believe this?
But within us lies unmatched potential—
Why can’t we see that open door?
Why wait? Let’s rise—
Let our spirits soar.
We don’t have to depend on others anymore.
If we do, we’ll always live below—
But we were meant to grow.
I believe—we can rise above the strife,
Transform our world, rewrite our life.
With trust as our guide, we’ll reach new heights,
And build a future where love always ignites.
And when it’s all done, we’ll still ask ourselves this:
What could it be that made us believe this?
