Still…
My heart longs for the land of my childhood.
Still… I hear the sounds of laughter and singing Of rain pelting tin roofs of houses Of doves, of insects, of frogs
Still... I smell burnt inshima The smell of rain hitting the dusty soil The cooking fires, the bush fires
Still my heart longs for Africa Not one country, for I know three well But for Africa, the continent
Still I miss the handshakes The drives down bumpy bush roads The wild animals
Still
I miss the place that needs my touch Needs my love, Still my heart yearns for Africa So far away, so close to my heart Still