Out of Africa

 

I got an email to tell me that someone with my surname had just died in Africa. 

We all come out of Africa,

This I know is true.

My roots are still in Africa,

Although my eyes are blue.

 

My eyes are blue,

My hair is blonde,

Yet African am I.

 

And calling from

Beyond the grave,

I hear my kindred cry.

 

Time nor place can part us,

My ancestors prevail,

Connecting through the spirit world,

But mostly by email.

 

They tell me of my uncle,

Who died without a will.

Leaving 10,000 dollars,

And no wishes to fulfil.

 

Mr Saif Zongo,

The banking audit man,

Tracked me down in person,

With a risk-free sharing plan.

 

If I follow his instructions,

He will make a bank transfer.

But he can’t release the funds,

Without a guarantor. 

  

Once I can convince him

Of my genealogy,

Then it’s 70 for him,

And it’s 30 for me.

 

But before I can complete the task,

An Auntie from Zaire,

Tells me how she lost her husband,

At the height of his career.

 

He put a million dollars

in a safety box account,

which she wants me to handle

for a share of the amount.

 

As I promise in my emails,

To set their money free,

Filling up my inbox,

Come more messages for me.

 

I have cousins in Botswana,

Nephews in Sudan,

And an email from Luanda, 

From the neighbour of my Nan.

 

And my forebears were so frugal,

They have money by the score,

But the bank just won’t release it,

Cos they need a guarantor.

 

Now I’m not a selfish person,

This you can believe,

Cos I know we’re all descendants,

Of a mitochondrial Eve.   

  

The woman out of Africa

Who gave her DNA,

To each and every one of us

Present on this day.

 

So brothers and sisters,

This I guarantee

We can all share in the money

Cos you’re African like me.

 

copyright@dellareynolds2017