Mtunzi maarufu wa vitabu vya hadithi na mashairi, ambaye pia ni mwanaharakati, Richard Mabala aliandika shairi lifuatalo kwa kimombo siku ya kilele cha maadhimisho ya kumbukumbu ya kuzaliwa Chama Cha Mapinduzi (CCM)
We planted the new seed
In the fertile soil of our land,
Full of hope and confidence,
For were we not farmers,
And had we not,
Along with other crops,
Planted two mighty trees,
Proud moments to our husbandry?
Now these were old
And though they still sheltered and fed us
At times they creaked ominously
And swayed beneath the onslaught of the whistling winds
We needed a new tree
To shelter new generations
Budding in our land
So we planted the new seed,
Grafted out of our experience,
Sign of the green revolution
We wished to bring to our land.
And danced and sang,
The dance of hope in the harvest
The song of confidence in victory.
And every year we’ll plant once more
The same seeds
On the same day
Sweet anniversary of our determination
To build anew
And we’ll dance
The dance of hope,
The song of confidence.
We cannot dance and sing
Then sit and wait for the fruits of our labour.
We must protect the tender shoots
That push up bravely,
Frail and naked,
Into a hostile world.
Always the jealous weeds threaten,
Jealous of new life,
Threaten to suffocate the new shoot,
Strangle our hopes at birth,
That they may spread their probing tubers in peace.
Growing fatter and fatter
As they exploit our earth to the full.
Weeds are cunning bastards.
Beware of their tricks!
Many sprout beautiful flowers,
Flowers that sway and sparkle in the sun,
Dazzling talismans of life,
While, hidden beneath,
The encircling tentacles such the moisture from the soil,
Condemning shoots to starvation.
Wise from years of natural selection,
Take on the form of those very shoots
We want to tend,
That they too may be tended
And left to flourish on the death of our hopes.
Hold your jembe firm,
Strike mercilessly at the weeds,
Take these vile enemies from the soil,
Rip out their spreading roots
And leave them to dry and wither
Beneath the harsh sun.
To dry and wither,
Malignant no longer,
To be reabsorbed into the soil
As life-giving compost
For our growing plants.
The task is ours,
Weeds never die of their own accord,
Even if attacked and severed on the surface.
Beneath, the roots continue to spread
To push up again
And still more numerous.
Weeds must be uprooted,
Torn bodily out.
Only then will our seeds grow mighty
And we in joyful community
Will gather the fruits of our labour
And dance and sing,
The dance of hope
Fulfilled in harvest,
The song of confidence
Vindicated in victory.