5
0I am Afonso.
I am Afonso.
I am Afonso.
And the earth remembers.
Before the ships,
the earth remembered.
Before the maps,
the earth remembered.
Before the names written
in foreign ink,
the earth remembered.
CHORUS
The earth remembers.
The earth remembers.
The earth remembers.
I was born
where the rivers walk
toward the great water.
I was born
where the forests speak
through leaves
and birds
and rain.
I was born
among the living
and the dead.
For the dead
were never gone.
The dead walked beside us.
The dead sat beside the fire.
The dead entered our dreams.
Then came the sea.
Not the sea itself.
The other sea.
The moving forest.
The floating mountain.
The wooden kingdom.
The white-winged ships.
CHORUS
The sea remembers.
The sea remembers.
The sea remembers.
And I welcomed them.
Let history hear this.
I welcomed them.
I opened the gates.
I opened the roads.
I opened the kingdom.
I opened my heart.
Because I believed.
Because I believed.
Because I believed.
I believed
truth could travel.
I believed
wisdom could travel.
I believed
God could travel.
Across water.
Across language.
Across skin.
Across fear.
And when I knelt,
I did not kneel
before a king.
I did not kneel
before an empire.
I knelt
before mystery.
I knelt
before Christ.
CHORUS
He believed.
He believed.
He believed.
But something else
crossed the sea.
Something hungry.
Something without prayer.
Something without mercy.
Gold crossed the sea.
Desire crossed the sea.
Markets crossed the sea.
Chains crossed the sea.
And suddenly
every road
led to the coast.
Every village
led to the coast.
Every scream
led to the coast.
The sea grew crowded.
The sea grew heavy.
The sea grew dark.
CHORUS
The sea remembers.
The sea remembers.
The sea remembers.
I saw mothers disappear.
I saw hunters disappear.
I saw drummers disappear.
I saw children disappear.
Names disappeared.
Songs disappeared.
Languages disappeared.
Dreams disappeared.
And still the ships came.
And still the ships came.
And still the ships came.
I wrote letters.
Letters.
Letters.
Letters.
Across the ocean.
Across the silence.
Across the greed.
Across the distance.
I said:
Brothers—
stop.
I said:
Christ did not die
for this.
I said:
A kingdom is not cattle.
A people is not cargo.
A child is not merchandise.
A soul is not property.
But gold
has no ears.
CHORUS
Gold has no ears.
Gold has no ears.
Gold has no ears.
Now I stand
between drum
and bell.
Between forest
and cathedral.
Between ancestor
and saint.
Between memory
and forgetting.
And I ask:
Which God
crossed the sea?
The God of mercy?
Or the God of merchants?
Which kingdom
was coming?
The kingdom of heaven?
Or the kingdom of profit?
The dead are waiting.
The dead are listening.
The dead are counting.
Every wave
speaks their names.
Every wave
speaks their names.
Every wave
speaks their names.
CHORUS
Kongo remembers.
Kongo remembers.
Kongo remembers.
I am Afonso.
King.
Believer.
Witness.
I am not speaking
for myself.
I am speaking
for those
the ocean swallowed.
Listen.
The drums are calling.
Listen.
The sea is answering.
Listen.
History is not over.
CHORUS
Kongo remembers.
The sea remembers.
The dead remember.
And the earth remembers.
