Ithaka - Mwajuma lyrics

Born a strong girl under the African sun Up in the mountains of Kenya, 1951 Grew up poor on her tribal land Turned sixteen and went to work for The Man For more than thirty years, she's made them their tea Washed their clothes, cooked them their meat SAY A LITTLE PRAYER FOR ME DREAM A LITTLE DREAM FOR ME IT'S BEEN A LOT OF LONG YEARS GONE SINCE I STOPPED DOING THE DREAMING One warm Langatta* morning in January Amidst confusion, she was my sanctuary I got lost on my way back to town But instead, a new friend's what I found Met her every morning at the market in Karen** Her forty-five minutes to conversate in freedom For two months in my life, I had a best friend She spoke British with Swahili accent I was her confidante and she was mine From eight-thirty in the morning, ‘til a quarter after nine She always smiles, but inside she's sad She tested Positive and her kids have no Dad SAY A LITTLE PRAYER FOR ME DREAM A LITTLE DREAM FOR ME IT'S BEEN A LOT OF LONG YEARS GONE SINCE I STOPPED DOING THE DREAMING On the Friday morning of my departure She brought me a single solitary blue flower Said, Ithaka-we didn't know each other long But I love you mzungo***, like you was my own son I'm glad you had good times in my land But don't ever forget, heaven and hell go hand in hand Lots of love and happiness and a lot of sorrow Same as yesterday, same as tomorrow ‘member me, Mwajuma in your far away land Once upon a time, a strong African girl SAY A LITTLE PRAYER FOR ME DREAM A LITTLE DREAM FOR ME IT'S BEEN A LOT OF LONG YEARS GONE SINCE I STOPPED DOING THE DREAMING (spoken part) Since we first met She was always trying to fatten me up She's say, “Boy, you're just skin and bones… Gotta put a little bit of weight on ya” And she'd bring me these brown paper bags of food Down to the open air market where we'd meet up And wherever I'd spot her She'd always have this big paper sack Sitting on top of her cart Full of cookies or cornmeal or last night's ca**erole… Whatever…an it was funny, cuz… She's always handed me the bag In secrecy under the table When no one else was looking Like it was some exchange Of highly valuable documents… Something private and special between us… …and in a way it was… She always talked about her kids And how happy she was That they hadn't met The Devil That's how she talked Referring to her illness, The Devil Then she'd laugh and call Him a son of a b**h But I could never tell if she was talking about her illness Or her dead husband that gave it to her… SAY A LITTLE PRAYER FOR ME DREAM A LITTLE DREAM FOR ME IT'S BEEN A LOT OF LONG YEARS GONE SINCE I STOPPED DOING THE DREAMING © Ithaka Darin Pappas (2001) *Langatta: suburb of Nairobi ** Karen: village outside of Nairobi named after • legendary writer, Karen Blixen (Out of Africa) ***mzungo: Swahili for foreigner