MISSION TO MOZAMBIQUE
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8 April 1994 "You can bring the culture of war in a plane, And humanitarian aid in a truck, But you can't bring us the culture of peace. For peace is a tree with roots deep in our land." Words of the old men call me back On mission to Mozambique. If peace is a tree, then it must have seeds, Seeds to be planted in the minds of men.
The plane banks and points to the south, The sun setting on the right. Powerful engines surge, Leaving Europe behind.
"Peace is an empty word without justice, And justice comes from Milando," they told me. "The chief, the councilors, the people, Gather around the two in conflict, Each surrounded by family. 'Why are we here?' the chief begins. And the family of the accused responds With a story drawn from roots of tradition. Then the accuser follows with another, So, slowly, the truth emerges, one leaf at a time. No hurry, the Milando does not rot."
Night falls over Africa. Storm clouds rise from the forests below. Lightning flashes from storm to storm. Words of Thoreau struck fire in Gandhi, Gandhi back to King and King to Mandela, They harnessed the power of Milando, And united the people across the earth.
Looking south, seeking the seeds of peace, We witness a new dawn coming Where the sun rises on the left.
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