She cannot let me go

My name is Sadza.
I don’t play.
This writer, tried to let me go.
She could not.
She left the place,where I am popular.
She thought, she could forget about me.
She could not.

 

Where I come from, I am the staple food.
I am made from corn meal.
When they want to enjoy me,
I am accompanied by MURIWO, plus NYAMA
That is vegetables and meat.
I determine their agriculture.
I determine how they spend their time.
I am part of their culture.
I am part of who they are.

 

Isn’t it the same,
The same with other habits.
Other habits, people have incorporated in their lives.
They are learned,once learned,they are who you are.
I am not bad,I am good,I am food.
It’s painful, when habits are not good.
Harmful,but refuse to be dropped.

 

It’s painful, when habits are learned.
Are learned from a culture, and they are harmful.
Harmful to self,and to others.

 

They refuse to be dropped.
They cling.
They remain.

 

I am sadza.
I am good.
I have remained.

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