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

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