By Kamali Godwin
They call her
The Pearl of Africa.
Land of green hills,
Golden sun,
And children who laugh barefoot in the rain.
But tell me—
How can a pearl shine
When its people sleep hungry
Outside gates guarded by men with swollen pockets?
In Parliament halls
The tables bend with feasts,
Voices rise over microphones,
Allowances flow like rivers after rain.
Yet in the villages,
Mothers boil water
To silence the stomachs of their children.
They already have everything.
Big cars with dark windows,
Homes taller than hope,
Children in expensive schools abroad
Speaking fluent comfort
While ours sit beneath leaking roofs
Sharing one textbook like a borrowed dream.
Still, they reach for more.
More money.
More land.
More lies wrapped in speeches.
Their hands are full
Yet they stretch them deeper
Into the pockets of the poor.
And when billions disappear,
They call it “missing funds.”
As if money simply woke up one morning
And vanished into thin air.
Names rise in the headlines—
Anita Among,
Spoken in whispers, arguments, and anger.
But perhaps the nation fears the wrong thing.
Because for every one name exposed,
There are twenty more behind the curtains,
Silent and polished,
Smiling for cameras with clean reputations
And hands heavy with hidden greed.
Somewhere,
A hospital has no medicine
Because someone bought another mansion.
Somewhere,
A classroom has no desks
Because someone needed another convoy.
This is not leadership.
This is greed dressed in suits.
This is humanity traded
For the endless hunger of money.
They wave flags,
Sing the anthem,
Call themselves honourable—
Yet cannot hear the cries
Of the people beneath them.
So no—
This is not the Pearl of Africa.
Not while wealth is worshipped
More than human life.
Not while the poor fund the rich
With empty stomachs.
Not while greed sits on thrones
And calls itself service.
A pearl is precious because it is pure.
And purity cannot survive
Where conscience is for sale.
My name is Kamali Godwin, a young but determined poet whose dream expanded beyond the confines of poetry to the amber of stories. I am a senior four student at The Amazima School. Since the age of seven, I have grown through an orphanage called Sonrise Children’s Home.
My dream for writing was shaped by the moral decadence in society even from tender ages. As a concerned citizen, I thought that the only antidote could be the foundation that children get. So, I started writing short stories that teach moral values. This one in particular speaks about compassion. I believe we can change our nation one book at a time
