Dumi Senda - "I Am Coming Home"

I first heard this poem in the early 2,000's. And, in spite of the closed captioning there were pieces of two verses I found lacking in clarity. I finally resolved those. 

Dumi Senda is an African of Zimbabwe birth. He is an activist for education and health in Africa. He lives in London. He is an icon of the African Diaspora. The poem deals with the anguish of personal choice, and the decision to leave your Homeland in order to better yourself, and then deciding g to work towards the betterment of your birth land. 

Here is the poem, which is one of the most beautiful I have ever heard. The voice is the poet's, and juxtaposed against the music, is very moving. Not being able to find a printed version I took the liberty of placing it in a Western 4 line verse form. 

So long it has been,

Since I said so long
To my home and left.
So long.

There is nothing left
but to walk that long walk
to my place of birth.
Now that finally I am coming home.

I shall peer at the clouds above
and wonder if they recognize my face.
And stare at the ground on which we walk
Will it feel my pain? I wonder?

And understand that I was lost,
tossed like a coin down the drains
and veins of city sewers. 
Lost, not by choice, lost and denied a voice.

Lost, to the wind that blows without a care
that carries all it can hold
and holds all it can carry
far from the tree of my stock it ferried me,

and damned me on foreign soils
In this place here. A march pre conceived.
A solid doctor not to be,
And much of my dreams it watered and wilted

Oh yes, I had a belly full, and slept on a double bed
and ate a double plate,
enough to feed an African village,
but something I missed still.

*African phrase*

Lost, but now that I am found, will the ground be kind to my step?
The trees and the grass, my predicament understand?
Will the proud mountains lend a hand,
understand; or shrug their shoulders; in dry contemp?

Will the Easterlies and Northerlies,
will they wipe their tears
and years off my face?
Now that finally, I am coming home?

When the tide subsides, and it will,
and the Lion has lost it's bite,
I shall catch that flight,
Release the breeze, release the goats and graze the sheep.

Let the cows confess the grass is sweet.
And the cocks show off on rooftops
My gourd, flowing like a mouth,
Now that finally, I am coming home.

The thought weighs a thousand pounds on my mind
The enormity of it all
Now that finally, 
I am coming home

I shall be filled with peace to the bone,
for I have longed for so long,
for the Sun's warm lips
my skin to kiss.

But now that the ticket to my destiny is booked
dampness shocks my soul and there's not a dry patch left
to which I lay claim,
now that I am finally coming home

A TV appeal comes on, how timely,
only 3 Great British pounds,
it claims boldly,
Can save a family in Africa from starving.

Suddenly, fanciful sounds in my ears of village women undulating
are replaced by the ghostly, ghastly cries of children wallowing,
I am letting down by laying claim to, which by right,
Should be mine.
Now that finally, I am coming home.

I turn off my TV set for the last time,
knowing for the first time it shall be mine.
For the last time, standing on the rug, in my lounge, barefoot.

How I wish I could pack this softness
in a lunch tin,
like food, knowing
that finally, I am coming home.

But somewhere, between the ticking clock,
and the solid wall I call my mind,
is lost life's occupations, I so wish to keep,
and so wish to leave behind.

And the thought of life's turning off a shadow,
and the metal bed registering with a rumble, is hunger.
I halfway wave goodbye in the dusk,
knowing full well that in time

I will bask in the embrace of Mama Africa's arms.
Knowing full well that finally,
I am coming home.
To Mama Africa.