By David Aoloch Bion
The war took my people to Khartuom
The war destroyed my people
The war destroyed their culture
The war destroyed their identity
The war lost their values and ethics
My people in Khartoum
They walk barefoot
They beg on the streets
They sleep on street
They sleep in open air
They sleep under unfinished skyscrapers
They’re chased anytime under skyscrapers
They sleep in tents of cardboards
They sleep in tents of sisal and nylon sacks
They eat leftovers from Northern dining tables
The children scavenged in dust pin
My tears drop, dropp ….dropp hundred
Times for their suffering
My mouth jeers, jeers ….jeers hundred
Times for their suffering
May my people sail on my tears home South
The war is over
Go home and build your beautiful grass houses
That don’t leak like cardboard and sack tents
Go and cultivate the land of your fathers
Leave Khartoum, leave Khartoum
Where there’re first, second and third classes
Of people