I UNDERSTAND

Oh, God! Many years have passed

Since I started working for a white man

I feel now extremely tired

my joints displaced

even before the basic materials acquired

let alone pension age ensured

my family life secured.

My boss is very critical

the security of my job's survival

depends upon working hard

just like freshly employed lad.

Every hour, every day

every week, every month

every year, every decade

I have to work like a young lad

just freshly employed.

I can't afford to being tired

no time to respite

just like the boss some times does.

Instead I treat my back as a spring

my hands a pendulum in swing.

Boy oh boy!

Don't ask me why.

It feels as if I am through life

before I even acquired what people regard as nice.

Perhaps would it be better

if I could work for another person

a man of my colour.

Or could it be true

that there is no hope black or white

that, man has lost grips with his root.

The other day I came across

a man of my race

asked me if I could spare some change

I look at his eyes, he looked at mine

then in silence we communicate

I send my hands down my pockets

spent some time in search

some change I did managed to get.

I gave it but I said

eh! man, why don't you labour?

What?

said he, knocking his head with his finger.

work, I mean work for money,

I reiterated.

Oh! that he replied.

If you don't mind me being funny

yes, I did try

and I am still trying

but couldn't manage to maintain one for a while.

Every time I reach the summit

when I am at my height

if you like,

every time, I seemed to be good at it

perfect performance I execute

when I accomplished a nice piece of work

what I get is the sack.

"I understand" said I

and salute the man "good bye".

Then that very same day

in a small gap of time

I met another black guy

seated on a train

to a destination that passes through mine.

He had his case on his lap

preferred his jacket to dress it instead

and the long tongue of his colourful tie

in between completely buried.

I look at him and then I smiled.

In return he too smiled,

`what is up' he then said.

Nothing man, nothing,

I replied.

Come on! don't give me that shit

I had enough of it

just tell me, what is it?

you really want to know what is in my mind?

Yeh, man, spite.

Well! It appears,

you look as haggard as the man I saw outside.

but why, I couldn't figure it

you seem to be a person mainstream accepted.

Well! My friend said he,

the harder I work

the more I innovate

the faster I integrate

the less appreciation I get.

worse!

Of all the things weirdest

in anger that blasts my heart

when I do the very thing they request

I mean work, innovate integrate

never did I saved myself from being accused.

Said the man next to me seated

smiling but I could tell he was sad.

Then I said I understand.

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by Haile Selassie Girmay.

London June 1993