‘For the colonialists all means are good if they help them to possess these riches.’

— Patrice Lumumba





Then,               our eldest cousin counseled     us;

the small children —
            The dried apricots,

aren’t apricots at all,

they are the ears of orphans,

            See here —
proof,                his henna-stained fingers traced

the helix’s half-fold 
            — they sell their ears
our protests 
            we don’t want to eat

the ears of children
muted 
             our eldest cousin warned
            you must,

otherwise they bled for nothing

and the demand for apricots

will dry up

            then what will they sell?
pushing apricots           our Eucharist,

into holy cherub mouths          saving us lowly third sphere angels 
tongues dancing          over downy hairs,

chewing over               sweet-sour rubber          lambs blood.
Now,               I cut apricot halves

forming sunrise mandalas on parchment,
pressing my fingerprints into their candied skin,

playing knuckles with their stones, 
they’re browning in my kiln

and I’m telling my own children —
            these are not apricots at all

they are the ears of small children
and when they cry

they don’t want to eat the sweetmeats
            I say
You must

            otherwise,        what will they sell?




During Belgian’s colonial rule of the ‘Congo Free State’ the Force Publique military were responsible for enforcing rubber quotas.

Severed hands became a currency for shortfalls in rubber. It’s been estimated that 10 million people died during this forgotten Holocaust. 

The Democratic Republic of the Congo has the world’s largest reserves of cobalt—an essential ingredient in Lithium-ion rechargeable

batteries, such as the ones used in our smartphones, laptops and electric cars. The DRC cobalt mines have been rife with human rights

abuses, including child labour, as detailed in The Washington Post article The Cobalt Pipeline by Todd C. Frankel.