WHAT A DAY, WHAT A MOMENT, WHAT A HISTORICAL MOMENT TO CELEBRATE
Millions gather in Washington D.C. and around TVs all over the world to watch how the world can be changed for once. My father in Liberia and my brothers and sisters and hundreds of thousands of Liberians gather with the world around their TVs and public TVs to celebrate the birth of a new day for the world. Barack Obama is now President of the United States of America.
President Barack Hussein Obama of the United States, the son of an African father, the first time a black man is in the White House- Isn’t that wonderful?
Our young and beautiful First Lady, Michelle Obama- She looks like us, and isn’t that good?
Barack Hussein Obama is Our President now. Because of his dedication and hard work, because of his election, my sons and my daughters can have a face where they could not, in America. Whether you believe it or not, it is difficult to be a black person in America.
Today has opened up the door a bit wider. Thank God for Barack. Thank God for all the good Americans who disregarded race and fought to make this day possible. Thank God for a better tomorrow for us immigrants of African descent.
I have written my own poem to celebrate President Obama’s African heritage and connection to us African immigrants who also worked day and night to help him get elected because we love him and we love America. This poem was written the night of his election as the 44th US President.
The People Walking In Darkness: A Song for Barack Obama
by Patricia Jabbeh Wesley
The people walking in darkness have seen a great light.
Now, put the music on, I say, put the music on, and let
drums sound in the hill country and in the dessert country,
on the dry road and the muddy road. Let the dancing girls
come out tapping their feet lightly to Wayee and to Sumu,
and let the young men, beating their drums sing no longer
with mournful cries. Let the young men in the village
square hold on to their young girls as the town crier rings
out the Klan-Klan-teh with the pounding of drums.
Obama has prevailed over his foes. The lion has sprinted
ahead of his pursuers, so let trumpeters and the men,
blowing their horns come sweating with music, oh Africa—
Let the earth keep silent, I say, and may our elders take up
the freedom only tears can bring. The day has broken
over the fields, my people, the day has broken over the fields,
and all our children, wandering in the forest have found
their footing once more. On the road, a farmer stands no longer
in mid-road. Come, and let us hold up the fire so the lightning
can pass, so our children can pass, so lovers can come out
of hiding, so daylight can come out upon the hills, so our dead
mothers and our dead fathers who lost their footing at the hands
of slavery shake lose grave dirt in their unmarked graves.
Obama, the son of woman, the one son we were going to bring
forth has become ours. Bring out the kola nuts and the spiced
pepper. Let the libation grace these parched surfaces where
the earth has bled. Let young women let loose their hair.
Let the earth be still- the souls of our ancestors are passing.
Let the earth be still- the souls of our ancestors are passing.
The child that was left behind has cleared the path so our
feet can find new footing, so our wailing can end.
The people walking in darkness have seen a great light.
The people walking in darkness have seen a great light.
The election and now the inauguration of Barack Obama, a son of an African father and a white American mother, the realization of the dream of millions of African Americans who have fought for this dream to come true- this is a moment in history. For me, this is a solemn day of both a celebration of how far we, black people have come, how far people of color all over the world have come, and how far America as a home of immigrants, a home for freedom and peace and equality has come. This has been a moment to live to cherish. I have not ceased to tear up just to be alive here. To know that my grandsons some day will no longer be likened only to Michael Jordon or Magic Johnson, that when someone looks at a black boy, he will no longer be examined through the eyes of low expecations, expecting all little black boys to end up in prison, and that such an individual will have to think before they speak about how much a black boy can accomplish.
