It was on the African calender
That a new leader was marked by name
He, a special breed most sought after
His own kind, whose heart heaved for his people
He dreamed of paradises, and the lifting of his poor
By the foot of the kirimanjaro, a star rose up on high
Pombe, for his spirited self, the new wine in new skins
He rode on the bicycles, in the local crowded cubs, and trains
On this continent so raped, a solace did appear, so temporal so it was
We saw from our stances a leader who put moneys in right coffers
He drew plans and walked them home and secured,
We had spied the skies and found no one as he
In the shadows of the volcano lay a thief who rode across the pacific
Gradually he closed in and snatched his hundreds away, we quacked!
Many wrote designs to save, our Prince braved and stayed, push on he prayed
But the ogre would not budge, steadily he crouched and pounced
Africa had spawned its thoroughbred, we had hope on our sleeves fortified
For a teacher of the continent, of how to rule and serve, and save, we beheld
Oh, Africa again failed, our Saint Michael piercing the corruption dragon
Our Zulu, pushing back the selfish vendors of division and plunder
We stare in disbelief as we dream yet again, of a heart so clad with the pains of the poor
For a teacher so simple and selfless, to clean up the nepotism breathed into our walkways
Here is an African warrior who leaves us lifted and so much enthused
Pombe, the spirit of the African soil, we imprint you on the face of the Kilimanjaro
As great soul of this continent, and we, needing your arms, hands, mind, and heart!
Solome Najjuka