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Post-Colonial Education

Class, repeat after me.

By Randy BakerPublished 2 months ago 1 min read
image generated by author using Midjourney

“Eternal Father bless our land

Guide us with Thy mighty hand”

Our anthem, sang each morning

With formality, in khaki uniforms

We, the ripe fruits of resistance

Young inheritors of possibilities


Nanny of the Maroons

Sam Sharpe and William Gordon

National heroes, all

Our very own freedom fighters

1831 and 1865 stamped into our memories

The struggle of us vs. them

Reiterated by teachers and textbooks


Anancy stories brought from Africa

The call and response of field songs

Zion Mi Waan Go Home”, went the chant

Of the Rastas. We learned them all

The folk tales and folk songs

That underpinned a fledgling nation

Free from the yoke of colonialism


Cultural conviction, built into the curriculum

A thing denied, now the status quo

Goodbye Shakespeare, hello Claude McKay

Identity, woven into the fabric of each class

Including the subjects of chemistry and maths

Now, even white children like me

Could take pride in being black


[Author's Note: This poem was first published in the chapbook, Beyond the Horizon: Journeys in Poetry and Prose, 2010]

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About the Creator

Randy Baker

Author, poet, essayist.

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Comments (2)

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  • Dharrsheena Raja Segarran2 months ago

    Whoaaa, this was extremely powerful! Well done!

  • Lindsay Sfara2 months ago

    Oh! This felt SO powerful, Randy. I really enjoyed this one!

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