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There where he lazily rests on his hindquarters. There around his beer pots that viciously bubble and ferment. I listen to the reluctant song of Africa-Cush. It comes on the notes of Raka’s unrest. It ends in chorus in unrest upon unrest.

In the words of the song, Cain-Cush considers the advice of the cunning communist. But before he knows it, he has completely mistaken himself with the West. By losing their donations of just giving and giving. America comes in taking it back in surplus upon surplus.

So, where oh, Africa is your capacity for sophisticated political wrangling? Look, the suicide plot is tightening around you. Look, there where you are still so lazily resting on your butt. While you are relying on the benefits of Sassa, you have lulled yourself into your comfort zone for far too long.

All that remains for you is rebellion and unrest that will turn into unlawful encroachment and discontent. Because before you know it, it is the great famine that is fermenting in your empty beer pots in the worst circumstances.