Dear English,
You’re going too far ruining my life
Perishing my happiness and confidence
But there is something you normally forget,
I’m a Kinyarwanda native.
Please drop your guns and note
That I didn’t like you even once
Dominating my mother tongue.
I wasn’t born to speak you
I wasn’t going to adapt it either.
I struggle with you because you dictate me
Keep in mind that I hate just that way
You can’t let me just be myself,
You keep ruling my ideologies
Because you know your deadly strains.
You have been made a pretext
Of anyone willing to offend my merits
Bragging or chiding their provenance,
To even measure my Kinyarwanda skills.
Still don’t know why I envy you?
You confused my friends, siblings and parents
Who are even getting lost from their identity
Because of you and some of your allies
Without minding how poor you are
Nta munoga in your tradition.
In the name of myself and I
I pour my deepest wrath upon you
Against all your manifestations
To write and speak you less
Until you feel how Kinyarwanda suffers.
I know you’ll get to your knees
Begging to cease my vengeance,
But I’ll never give you any of the chances
I’ll ruin your hypocrisy and settlement
Till you respect my provenance.
Because my dearest English
The only thing I’ll be doing is
Mistakes and will never give a shit
I’ll love being called umuturesi
Uzahamane abakwemereye kwanga iwabo.
I never questioned your existence
But you’re uprooting my own one
Forgetting that you’re even an assemblage
Of the dialects that can’t measure up to ours
But you still think you’re supreme.
Thank you!
Hope you'll mind your business.
Your mad spoiler,
Listen to "A Letter to English" here.
Tags | Intero y'umwige, Basote Jam, Lakhpin
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