The Chronicle

I'm Shida, the son of Al-Shida, 

Prince of the Basileia and the First Men. 

Buzhya's blood flows in my veins,

Mbishida's legacy, a song that remains.

From the Southern winds to the Eastern sun,

I emerged, a piper, a drummer in one.

Teacher's wisdom in my early years,

Peacher's voice, soothing fears.

A merchant on pathways of profits untold,

Disciplined by seasons, a story to unfold.

Named by my Father, nurtured by the Mother,

Weeder of troubles, Sower of goodwills.

Fatherhood draped in Adiel's embrace,

Hero to Abba, joy to Ashnah's grace.

Husband indeed, gardener in dawn,

Married to Home, where love is drawn.

Confidant, principled, a shepherd's role,

I dance through life, as the seasons stroll.

In the rhythm of existence, a harmony sweet,

For I am the dance, and He is the beat.

Fortunes above, yet my state is well,

A gentleman in Africa, stories to tell.

Even today, I'm still arriving,

In the heart of my destiny, ever thriving.

-

Mbimda Ali Mbishida

25/02/2022