Himba

HIMBA Like a white snake lies the road below you Like fine baby powder the whirling dust The heated sun a blazing fireball above Your throat all dry and water a must On your right the big Etosha lies The fences carry on for miles and miles Wild, dry godforsaken country this The beauty change the frowns to smiles On your left there is the dry bushfeld A big pile of elephant dung so hit the brakes Your glasses clouded up with this fine dust Stay awake and concentrate your life is at stake Then in the country of the Himba Topless ladies, mud covered their hair Their little mud houses like anthills Strong and brave give you the stare Beautiful people they surely are Their bodies covered with mud and fat The never wash in any water or soap The desert is far to dry to do that Your wealth is not the money in the bank But the cattle that you carefully protect They are nomads a very primitive tribe By nature as good warriors select The men with their muscled bodies Wear nothing but a loincloth of skins Great soldiers they are these brave men Trained and hard, real fighting machines The third most primitive tribe in Africa That is the opinion of some clever White I look at their system and how it works I wonder who is wrong and who is right Debonair © 2008