LiST OF POEMS

Praise poem to FOSATU 1 Migrants’ lament 7 Africa 9 Death 14 The tears ot the creator 18 The Small Gateway to Heaven 26 At the dumping ground 29 Mother 34 In the tracks of our Train 36 The Wheel is Turning 38 The Black Bufallo of Africa 49 Usuku lokubuya 51 Death Defiers 54 Dear 58 Published in 2016 in South Africa by Mpondoland Blues 61 South Africa History Online It has been such a long road 62 349 Albert Road Of Land, Bones and Money 65 Woodstock 66 Cape Town 7925 Socialism www.sahistory.org.za

Includes bibliographical reference and index 978-0-620-72872-0

Design and layout: Pontsho Sekiti Cover design: Pontsho Sekiti Cover Photograph: Omar Badsha INTRODUCTION

AIfred Temba Qabula, Mi S’dumo Hlatshwayo and Nise Malange are known by thousands of workers in Natal. They are known for their cultural work: poetry performances, plays, songs and their struggle to create a cultural movement amongst workers in Durban. They see themselves as part and parcel of a growing and confident democratic trade union movement in South Africa. In 1985 all three of them were cen- tral to the creation of the Durban Workers’ Cultural Local whose principles are outlined below. By the end of the year they were responsible for the development of a Trade Union and Cultural Centre at Clairwood along side the shop steward council in the area. The poems in this book have been composed for perfor- mance at mass-meetings, trade union and community gatherings, for festive and sombre occasions. Save Nise Malange’s poems, the rest have been composed in the Nguni

(Zulu and Xhosa) vernaculars. Consequently, the poems print- ed here in translation and outside their context suffer: they lose much of their oral power: the songs, the chants, the ulula- tions, their improvisatory nature and of course, the popular responses that accompany their oration. Despite that, the words here are strong enough to communicate in their own right. What follows is a brief introduction to the three activists.

QABULA

Alfred Temba Qabula was born at Flagstaff Transkei, in 1942. His grandfather was a transport-rider, his father and his uncles were miners and sugarcane workers. Migrancy and influx con- trols ruled his area’s and his family’s life. Seventy percent of able-bodied men in his area subsist through migrancy. Qabula was raised under harsh conditions as a child - he was orphaned after his father was poisoned and his mother wilted away very early in his life. As a young man, barely 18 years old, he was caught-up in the Pondoland rebellion. He survived the conflict by hiding and resistance: “I would see some-thing that hurts, that causes me starving in the forests with his friends. In those days death pain and then I would spend the working day making a was stalking the area and agriculture collapsed. 1964 found song about it.” him on a train bound for Carletonville to start his first migrant contract with a construction company on the mines. For five In 1983 he joined the Metal and Allied Workers’ Union years he lived in the compounds at night and worked as a (MAWU) and was part of the shop-steward steering committee plumber in construction gangs during the day. In 1969 one of which organised all the Dunlop workers into the union. That his foremen started a business at Redhill and lured him away year, he participated in the making of the “Dunlop Play”. to Durban. There, he “shacked-up” with his uncle at Amaouti in In 1984 he started - dressed in a colourful costume - to perform Inanda Reserve. It is no surprise that Qabula’s poems, songs his “Izimbongo zika Fosatu” composition at union meetings. His and praise-pieces are pained by the “hurt of migrancy”. performances initiated a revival of imbongi poetry in union His immediate family - a wife and three children - remained gatherings in Natal and beyond. This oral poetry, thought by on the land. His heart, his feelings and his source of inspiration many to be a dead tradition or the preserve of chiefly praises, remained with them in their world of the countryside. As he resurfaced as a voice of ordinary black workers and their announces in one of his poems the natural sounds and land- struggles. Since then Qabula has written more poems, plays scapes there are his sources of inspiration but also a source and projects within the Durban Workers’ Cultural Local. He is of resistance: “...From this criss-cross of sounds / and song / now completing a book on his life experiences and together Delivered by your creatures / I / get inspiration / to sing / And with Hlatshwayo and others he continues to orate his poems. also to write / And also to ask my sisters and brothers / “Why are you quiet? / Silent?” ...is there nothing that tickles you into action / from all this?”,

Despite his feelings though, his experience is of an urban world of ugliness, harshness and noise where, “...we see the railway tracks / the highways, the buildings and factories / the structures ... we hear / the trains / the motor cars and machin- ery / the bombs going off / the sound of gunshot / and you refuse to ask them / why they are conducting themselves like that / You don’t complain / when they are making so much NOISE!...”

In 1974 he entered the noisy world of factory production at “Dunlop S.A.” (Sydney Road). From then on he had to adjust to the demands of the mass production of rubber products. Qabula adjusted to his job by creating a unique world: in his head. For the past decade he has been composing songs there about everything that affects his life and the life of others. He survives the working day by composing songs of redemption or PRAISE POEM TO FOSATU

You moving forest of Africa When I arrived the children Were all crying These were the workers, Industrial workers Discussing the problems That affect them in the Industries they work for in Africa

I saw one of them consoling others Wiping their tears from their eyes I saw wonders, ‘cause even in his Eyes the tears did flow. ‘Worker, about what is that cry Maye? You are crying, but who is hassling you? “ Escape into that forest, The black forest that the employers saw and Ran for safety The workers saw it too “It belongs to us”, they said “Let us take refuge in it to be safe from Our hunters” Deep in the forest they hid themselves and When they came out they were free from fear

You are the hen with wide wings That protects its chickens.

Protect us too with those Sacred wings of yours That knoweth no discrimination

Protect us too so that we gain wisdom Militant are your sons and daughters One wonders what kind of muti 1 Sprinkle on us too that we take After them and act likewise. Keep your gates closed FOSATU. FOSATU has given birth I Because the workers’ enemies are ambushing you ts sons are spread all over Africa They are looking for a hole to enter through In order to disband Even overseas you find its sons: you Oh! We poor workers, dead we shall be FOSATU you are the lion If they succeed in so doing Close! That roared at Pretoria North, Please close! With union offices everywhere You are the mole that was seen by the bosses’ impimpis Whilst walking, Coming slowly but surely towards the factories Thinking about the workers’ problems, Fast ran the impimpis I saw a fist flying across Dunlop’s cheek And reported to their bosses and said: Whilst Dunlop was still shivering, “Baas, Baas, thina bukile lomvukuzane buya losayidi Perhaps Bakers was asking Kalofekthri kathina.” “What did my neighbour do “Yoh, yah; What is the mvukuzane my boy, tell me, That he is being hurt like that? What is it? I saw a combination of fists Is it one of FOSATU’s unions? Bombarding Bakers on his ribs, You are a good muntu Until Dunlop was concerned, Mina bhilda wena 6 room house He called the shop stewards and asked: Lapha lohomeland kawena. “Madoda, please tell us, Thatha lo-machine gun, vala logates Is MAWU now going to cause trouble at Bakers?, Skhathi wena buka lo-union “No, Banumzane” Bulala lo-union “Who is organising at Bakers? Skhathi lo-union yena ngena lapha fekthri kathina, “Of course Sweet Food and Allied Workers Union.” Amashares phelile Lo-union thatha yonke.’ But where does it come from? Whilst still wondering what to do, “From FOSATU.” There came a messenger and said: “This MAWU where does it spring from? “Better leave everything as it is, “Also from FOSATU.’ ‘Cause the union is already holding a meeting with “Same constitution? The workers in the canteen “Yebo.” Not only here - there at Sasol as well. FOSATU, we have chosen you to lead us Same policy, same constitution, Time and again we have been electing leaders, don’t worry Jim, Electing people with whom we were born and grew It’s still another MAWU. Up together. People who knew all our sufferings, Chakijana! Wake up and wear your clothes Together with whom we were enslaved. Of power and wisdom We had elected them because we believed they were A 2 3 lamp to brighten our way to freedom Come Senior Judge Judge against him for refusing us permission to use But to our dismay, This ground. After we had appointed them, we placed them on the Why do you refuse us permission to use this playground? Top of the mountain, The old man said this and that and he was left And they turned against us. Disappointed because the judge granted permission They brought impimpis into our midst to inflict Don’t play with fire, my friend because Sufferings upon us. You’ll get burnt. Some of us, those who were clever, were shot down To the dust with bullets You are the metal locomotive that moves on top Others were shut behind the walls of darkness Of other metals Others opted for fleeing the land of their birth The metal that doesn’t bend that was sent to the Engineers but they couldn’t bend it. Is FOSATU also going to hug you with those warm Hands? Teach us FOSATU about the past organisations His hands that know no racism? Before we came. Prayed we did to our Mvelinggangi and the Tell us about their mistakes so that we may not Ancestors have answered us, And sent to us FOSATU! Fall foul of such mistakes. Don’t disappoint us FOSATU, Our hopes lie with you, the Sambane that digs Don’t sacrifice us to our adversaries, Holes and sleeps in them, whereas others dig To date your policy and your sons are commendable, Holes and leave them. We don’t know what’s to happen tomorrow. I say this because you teach a worker to know What his duties are in his organization, Listen I am a Sangoma, And what he is in the community You have come to me so that I tell all about you Lead us FOSATU to where we are eager to go. I have thrown my bones and called on my abalozi. Even in parliament you shall be our representative My bones and my abalozi are telling me this: Go and represent us because you are our Moses - Yebo, you have good and handsome sons Through your leadership we shall reach our Canaan. Also they are intelligent and quite healthy. They call you the disruptionist because you Disrupted the employers at their own meeting. Good Mnumzane, I am writing you a letter to ask Because you man of old, asked a question: Permission to use this ground. We will be discussing and reporting to our members “Did you consider the workers? About all that we have achieved. Have you really planned about FOSATU, Here is the agenda so that you may know about The workers’ representative? What we are going to discuss. No! There you are big man, your refusal is a challenge. Well then we can’t continue because FOSATU doesn’t Get hold of him and pull him by the jacket. Laugh when they see something that makes workers Put him into the judgement box. Look laughable The meeting was disrupted 4 5 All that remained behind was beers, whiskeys, and MIGRANTS’ LAMENT Disappointment. The cakes and the cooldrinks were also disappointed. If I have wronged you Lord forgive me Hero deal with them and throw them into the Red Sea. All my cattle were dead Strangle them and don’t let loose. My goats and sheep were dead Until they tell the truth as to why they suck the And Workers blood. I did not know what to do Oh Creator forgive me I am coming slowly and I am watching all that you are If I had done wrong to you Doing. My children: out of school You’re great FOSATU. Out of uniforms and books Bayethe! My wife and I were naked - naked Amandla kubasebenzi! Short of clothing

(SFAWU AGM, Edendale Centre, Pmb, 1984) If I have wronged you Lord forgive me I went to WENELA To get recruited for the mines I went to SILO To work at sugarcane Oh creator forgive me If I had done wrong to you But they chased me away They needed those with experience With long service tickets and no one more

If I have wronged you Lord Forgive me I left my wife and children To look for work alone I had to find a job Oh Creator forgive me If I had done wrong to you I was desparing in Egoli After months searching for this job And when I found one I lost it For I didn’t have a ‘SPECIAL’ If I have wronged you Lord 6 7 Forgive me AFRICA I found a casual job I felt that my children would be happy Oh, I thank the Creator With my earnings For moulding and placing me Oh how happy I was! In Africa Oh creator fogive me If I had done wrong to you When my eye rests on you Africa Yes, as my children were happy You are indeed And as I was working A bride on her wedding day The blackjacks arrived to arrest me Pluned in all the treasures So again I lost my job Found in you: The gold, the silver, the copper and aluminium If I have wronged you Lord The diamond, the lead and iron ... Forgive me Recounting them would take us When out of jail I searched again - To infinity Another casual job, happy again The boss was happy too When winter comes And he gave me a letter Our eyes touch the mountain peaks To fetch a permit from back home Clad in snow Oh creator forgive me Confirming you Africa If I had done wrong to you Indeed a bride on her wedding day But the clerk said: ‘I can’t see the paper’ It is then, at such a time And added ‘You must go in peace my man’ When you look at the trees So I had to buy him beer, meat and brandy Tall trees For him to ‘learn’ to read my piece of paper Tall trees and short grass All swaying in unison If I have wronged you Lord Singing a tuneful song Forgive me Waving from this side and that I was working again As if singing and saying But I realized so far for nothing ‘We thank you Africa Oh Creator forgive me For the nourishing rain If I had done wrong to you For your sun So I joined the union to fight my boss For I realized: there was no other way As it strengthens us against the cold Lord But to fight with the employer For stretching our tendons with your winds There was no other way So we grow vigorous and full of life” Now go trouble maker go. It is then that I feel content

8 9 When summer announces itself The cotton, the iron, the copper and uranium Africa The diamonds, the aluminium and coal You wear Your multi-coloured Blankets Africa We are proud of you - you are beautiful Your hills, mountains, rivers and streams - And we know we are who we are your fitting ornaments Because of you Announce your beauty to our eyes Our source of life And we see all around us Giving us cold winds Nothing but a smile of happiness and satisfaction To refresh and awaken our bodies We get proud for being close to the parent The sun Of everything on your surface and under- neath you To warm our bodies Africa So they become healthy and strong Your plains! Your landscapes! In summer mornings When spring arrives When mist is covering the hills With its green and its flowers The mountains With all its multitudes of plants Hovering over the plains, the landscapes, When the winds start up again And valleys, at that moment, The aromatic scents of flowers, trees and plants When the sun rises Perfuming my nostrils As the mist begins to lift They make it hard for me Not to sing your praises Africa Leaving the trees The grass and flowers Nations from far away Soaking in dew Are crying for you Africa Just when the first warmth begins Africa of different nations The birds And many populations The animals and bees Wishing that they were yours Surge to and fro Or that you were theirs Making different patterns of sound,

We love you I am left in awe and, I hang from a question - Africa What have I done for the creator For being our guardian parent To deserve being placed here? Looking after us We wash in your fresh water From this criss-cross of sound We know of your plentiful treasures And song The oil, the salt, the cement and glass Delivered by your creatures 10 11 I get inspiration In your life! To sing Life? Is this Life? And also to write No. And ask my sisters and brothers Instead you welcome your retainers why are they quiet? Silent And hide them in your face Why are you so quiet, so silent? Oh Africa of peace! Is there nothing which tickles you to action From all this Youth - From our parent, provider and source of life? Echo the sounds, the songs Where do we find And dances The water, the fruit, the crops and wind Of the plants, the birds, the bees The rain, the cold and heat? And animals You can make Africa flourish in its pride From where would we hear the thunderstorms Sing, praise and thank the lord Were we not here in the Africa For moulding us and placing us Of our forefathers? In Africa We are proud of you, our treasure Africa You are beautiful From inside you treasures are taken Africaaa..... From your face, fruit, food and water. Africa of peace - you are beautiful (Opening of Clairwood Trade Union and Cultural Centre, Octo- But, in your face now ber 1985) We see the railway tracks The highways, the buildings, and factories The structures ... They fought battles scrambling over you We hear The trains, the motor cars and machinery The bombs going off, the sound of gunshot And you refuse to ask them Why they are conducting themselves like that You don’t complain

As they are making such a NOISE ! You are still and silent You behave as if in your final death-pangs forgetting To ask how you were when you were full of life When death announced himself You never asked how many sins you had committed 12 13 DEATH no answer escapes your lips But, Stunning creature the Day will come invisible to naked eyes when the orphans if we could only see you those widowed you would have already would turn out to be your judges been slain Woe unto you death But you left us grieving on that day t or those dear to us he fires you stoke for others young and old shall haunt you who stumbled in your path The pain and suffering you fully inflicted They were stalked and throttled to nature By your jealous and ruthless power to nations They were whisked through the world will descend on you. Before we noticed their arrival What they did wrong Nature no-one comprehends. the nations of the world shall stand before the greater judge With great fury giving evidence you clasped them for your killing of crimes you have committed extruding their flesh and can’t deny So that now only their bones are left and finally the truth shall emerge. We remain in constant mourning for you have deprived us You shall receive the of even those who we could turn to for solace. hatred netted by you on nations Death you always murdered but double in its venom our helpers Your conscience our heroes and national leaders eternally persecuted Men and women who cherished justice a haunted creature you shall remain you lifted them up But now ... to dump them under gravestones for punishment. you are the intruder the gate-crawler Death how did they offend you? baffling and stunning How did they worry you? the doctors You are silent the faith-healers 14 15 who make it their business to save lives Do you know that the from your deadly paws death-cart frustrating their success. the wagon you use will one day carry you over as well Your evil deeds Do you know that the constantly disturb us day of your end You are the abyss shall reveberate throughout the universe? which stands in the way of our desires In fear of you And all human creatures We meekly stand Would scramble for your remains your bones Devourer of life so that nations Raging Bull that people can strike Rude intruder of sealed doors up to celebrate our liberation Howls start at the exit of your many departures Maye! Death! Your elector has no misgivings for your labour Inventor of orphans For daily you drag The day we apprehend you Plenty more prey into your caves. an agonizing punishment awaits you! You are recognised On that day the impossible will become possible in all lands Donkeys shall sleep with lions talked about amongst the nations negations shall become confirmations disturber of peace. and your turn for final punishment shall sound You strike and take Even young committed men and women Death Workers for liberation enemy of man builders of communities Woe unto you ... in the midst of their efforts then. leaving behind a trail of unfinished mounds of effort (Flagstaff, Transkei, Christmas 1985)

You have marched those who are our yardstick into jails in the shadow of your feast into graves the others and after your kill you are still thirsty for more 16 17 THE TEARS OF A CREATOR What is the nature of your sin?

0’ maker of all things Worker Grief Your rulers Assails you from all sides Have dumped you Each step forward you take Away from the cities. brings emnity nearer Now all the misfits and orphans What is the nature of your sin? Of other nations Can suck you dry In the factories Your enemy suffocates you Now On this side: the bosses You are a nameless breed of animals On that side: the boss-boys A stock of many numbers And your suppressor’s lust Attackers and assailants To suck you dry Stalk you Recognizes neither day From all chambers Nor night What is the nature of your sin? And channels Your hand Permits and money Has develpoed Become the slogans A drunkard’s tremble Through which It can no longer draw straight lines They pounce on you To steer you clear What is the nature of your sin? Between the law enforcers and the bandits

Your labour power Worker Has turned you Are you not the economy’s foundation? Into prize-game Are you not the engine For the hunters of surplus Of develpoment and progress? What is the nature of your sin? Worker In the busses Remember In the trains and taxis who you are; You are the country’s foundation base and block You are the raw meat, The prey Oh maker of all things for vultures The world over Are you not the backbone Worker Of trade? Your capacity to continue loving 18 19 Surprises me, its enormity Where we pull wagons-full of gold Touches the Drakensberg mountains through our blood. What is then, The nature of your sin? We have Come from the sparkling kitchens Your sin Of our bosses. Can it be your power? Can it be your blood? We have arrived from the exhausting Can it be your sweat? Tumult of factory machines.

They scatter you about Victory eludes us still! With their hippos With their vans COSATU And kwela-kwelas Here we are! With their teargas You are butchered Heed our cry - By the products of your labour We have emerged These are the cries of the creator of all this From all corners of this land We have emerged COSATU From all organizations. Woza ‘msebenzi, woza COSATU, woza freedom. We have emerged From all Oh COSATU The country’s nooks and crannies! We workers Have travelled a long way here We say today That Yes: we have Our hope is in your hands Declared wars We are ready.

On all fronts We say: Let your hands deliver us from exploitaion For better wages Let our freedom be borne Let our democracy be borne Yet, Let our new nation be borne Victory eludes us. COSATU We Stand up now with dignity Have dared to fight back March forward Even from the bottom of the earth We are raising our clenched fists behind you 20 21 Behind us Clammed for decades and decades We call into line Our ancestors in struggle By a mountain of rules. Maduna and Thomas Mbeki The tornado-snake Ray Alexander and Gana Makhabeni Poisoned throughout the years JB Marks and hundreds more. By ethnicity And tribalism. Where are you ancestors? Lalelani and witness: Here is this mammoth creature Here is the mammoth creature Which they mocked! You dreamed of That it had no head! You wanted to create And certainly no teeth The one you hoped for Here is the workers’ Woe unto you oppressor Freedom train! Woe unto you exploiter

It is made-up of old wagons We have rebuilt its head Repaired and patched up ox-carts We lathed its teeth on our machines. Rolling on the road again The day this head rises Back again Beware of the day these teeth shall bite. Revived! Once capsized by Champion On that day: In the desert Mountains of lies shall be torn to shreds The wagon - once derailed by Kadalie The gates of apartheid shall be burst asunder the history books of deception shall be thrown out Here it rolls ahead To settle account with the oppressors Woza langa To settle account with the exploiters. Woza Federation Here it is: Won Freedom The tornado-snake - lnkhanyamba with its floods! Its slippery torso! COSATU Here it is: COSATU Stop now The spears of men shall be deflected! Listen to our sound

Here it is: You’ll hear us sing The tornado-snake of change! lnkhanyamba, That the rulers The cataclysm And employers 22 23 Are sorcerers! Transport workers Helele, Do not smile Miners of wealth Do not dare disagree Helele, Cleaners of the bosses’ kitchen If that was devoid of thruth Helele, Where is the ICU of the 1920’s to be found? Builders of the concrete jungle Where is the FNETU of the 30’s to be found? Helele, Where is the CNETU of the 40’s to be found? Workers of South Africa. And the others? Helele, Makers of all things They emerged They were poisoned Woza msebenzi! Woza COSATU! Woza freedom! Then They faded! (COSATU launch, Kings Park Stadium, November 1985)

COSATU Today be wise! In the desert Only the fruit-trees With long and sturdy roots Survive!

Learn that And you shall settle accounts with the oppressor You shall settle accounts with the exploiter You shall settle accounts with the racists.

Here is COSATU Who knows no colour Here then is our tornado-snake-inkanyamba

Helele COSATU

Helele Workers of South Africa

Helele, 24 25 The Small Gateway to Heaven onto dishes made hard like the rockface And you imagined the heat of your food Tall brown walls crowned before you received it cold. with barbed wire fences, Walls that hide what lives inside Then there were others; with his enormous ukhezo, from all outsiders, Fishing for pieces of meat and gravy And inside them, the inmates never see Slapping it onto the plate shouting the world outside. to move on, stop wasting his time, They hear sounds, Pouring out insults, Rumours of lives, Swearing and throwing the plate so the gravy They hear stories. Poured and smudged surfaces, fingers, anger.

And on these walls two gates, He was having his fun, A small and a big gate, His daily amusement, Just as it was told in the on the brink of a riot. histories of custody, But also in the stories of the entrances to heaven. And at night another is busy courting his workmate, And they feel that they are blessed, Praising him as the beautiful one from kwaTeba, Those elected to enter feel they are blessed, the one with short breasts, saying- entering the small gateway to the hostel or compound. Since you left your sister behind Those unmarked, those without numbers on their wrists, Please take her place in my bunk tonight. cannot enter. And he asks him and asks him to acknowledge his proposal. But I entered, I was elected to enter the small gates, And these eyes have seen wonders: This is the small gateway to heaven I saw the people sleeping stacked in shelves for the elect, like goods in a human supermarket. For the old men turned to animals, And the young men mesmerised by promises. I saw the elect, long strings of men in queues, And I remember: One after the other tracing their steps through When the recruiters invaded our homes the kitchens to get us to work the mines, To meet the sight of men perspiring rivers on their bodies They would say: of glass, “Come to Malamulela, Beads of sweat pouring at Mlamlankuzi with its hills and valleys, as they were stirring cauldrons of stiff porridge, There are mountains of meat, Stirring away with enormous logs There a man’s teeth become loose from endless chewing, and others with ladies shovelling the porridge And there where the walls are grumbling, 26 27 Where the stoneface is singing, THE DUMPING GROUND Promising bridewealth and merriment, Where sorrows disappear at the wink of an eye. 1. Come to the place of the Wherever Hairy Jaw he has placed his creatures where starvation is not known”. on the day of his calling they shall respond And we joined the queues through the small gate to heaven. And we found the walls of our custody, Even at the dumping ground and degredation, where filth is piled-up high and of work, darkness to darkness, alongside humanity’s rejects and rubbish - with heavy shoes burdening our feet they shall respond with worry, For nothing, No-one can muffle such a response At the place of the Hairy Jaw, by insisting that away from our loved ones. he was not calling No-one can silence the caller And i have seen this prison of a heaven, even if he was to be gagged This kraal which encircles the slaves, if his eyes were shut his ears were blocked and his mouth And I saw it as the heart of our oppression, stitched And I saw the walls that separate us even if he was gaoled from a life of love. in a tightly-sealed boxhouse - so he heard nothing, saw nothing knew of nothing -

still on the day marked by the call his voice would sound through the lungs of this world and the world would respond.

2. Because such a time has come miracles happen at the dumping ground Sturdy trees with large and brilliant-coloured fruit 28 29 emitting scents and beautiful to taste In front of my eyes have grown I can see and are available for free the mountains, the valleys and hills coming together at the dumping ground the sun, the moon and the stars are amassing You cannot separate the sea from the rivers But the farmers have assembled, worried and waterfalls asking each other verything is blurring together and spinning who indeed dared to plant the trees Am I mad or am I dreaming? who dared cultivate them No, I am awake to bear their fruit for free I am in my full senses!”... at the dumping ground? “Have pity on me who dared destroy their monopoly of planting such a poor, poor fellow their right and their privilege to sell born to be a victim of fear good fruit? bred to be a victim of discrimination I am scared... This new owner was a foreigner Where am I to hide? and an impostor Nature is coming together “let us destroy these orchards rooted in filth And I shiver whenever I stare let us tear the trees down at the dumping ground”... let us chop them to pieces and set them alight... let us destroy this abomination “Oh! in our midst”, they said they have torn all the trees down And so they did at the dumping ground t at the dumping ground hey have dug a deep hole they have chopped all the trees to tiny pieces 3. thy have poured paraffin and set them alight And our poor black brother they have dumped and buried them in the deep hole who sleeps in a scrapyard’s Toyota they have stacked broken bottles nearby the dumping ground old and rusted pieces of metal and iron rods asks in alarm and broken bricks on top to make sure they are never to grow “Am I dreaming? ever again”... What do these eyes of mine see? “But my poor tired eyes The world is beginning to blur in front of my nose what do they see? I can see Am I mad or am I caught the East and the West in a dream the North and the South No. blurring together the trees are sprouting all over again 30 31 and they are sprouting-forth leaves to work hard as daylight is coming what will the farmers say? it has been a very long sunset They are annoyed and a very long night they are full of hatred We are to sleep and listen to the voice in our dreams they are furious do not fear. But the trees have more fruit The one who is beginning to call more than ever before is standing beside you Beautiful fruit sprouting-out with gifts and with infinite talents from this place of filth At the dumping ground Work on!

They are greater than what the farmers yield and they are for free and the farmers’ produce is going to rot It has already started fermenting for people are gathering these free-fruit of filth At the dumping ground.”

We have come a long way with our efforts, with what we are doing We have scraped through broken glass and sharp bottles We have been suppressed so we would never dare raise our heads We have broken through the rubble and we are making our very own world At the dumping ground and we do not exploit and we do not cheat profits out of each other we have slipped through their grip leaving their cheeks blown-up with anger and we are growing

We are responding and someone is calling He is calling on us 32 33 MOTHER feel lonely because of your instruction and lessons. Even though I cannot see you through Though you left me rather early these natural eyes before I came to appreciate your presence. I can see you through my I say I don’t regret. imagination The time had come for you to The Lord only gave you a short span of years pass on to the land of the high winds And then you left for the land of the high There too, your good work was needed, winds L my Mother ong before I came to appreciate Now Mother your presence you must feel free You left me for your nation is feeling that way too. with endless years of solitude. But I still hear that soft echoing voice guiding my way forward

Yes, Mother, all this leaves me with a question - What is a home without a mother?

When I am away, out on the road Hungry, thirsty and full of tears I think about you Mother and I regain my strength My hunger, thirst and exhaustion disappear The road’s sorrows and worries disappear as I reach out For you My mother

Your word is the light in this world of darkness. In times of war, your counselling becomes the weapon I conquer with. Even in my solitude I do not 34 35 IN THE TRACKS OF OUR TRAIN When they block it on the road to Johannesburg it does not lose its power, it roars ahead We assembled its pieces together it grumbles on, with flames and fumes and anger and it grumbled and roared. Its grumbling and churning But they gossip and plot out its undoing has caused unrest and they accuse its anger of a communist plot in the stomachs of the capitalists. sand its roar of subversion They shout from the top in Pretoria: “But, what IS happening’?” And we follow its tracks, also singing

There was no answer from Pretoria’s hills The powerful ask: but the Drakensberg mountains Who allowed these stalks of cane, these blades of grass and the plains of Ulundi shook. to sing? And they said there: Songs are the property of trees, you have to be tall “Yes, this engine is powerful you have to have stature, substance and trunk to sing and it raises great flames and much uproar But we sing It was ignited on purpose Many with eyes get confused by the stature of trees to choke us But at least our song reaches the blind and punish us with fumes and heat. They listen to it closely and understand God created bees That the deals their capitalist suitors and they produced sweet honey have struck up at the Sopaki grounds and the people praised God for the bees and their honey. might feel like a bangles of gold but they rattle like chains Satan was angered again so he created flies to destroy the honey of the bees Across the river the grumble is heard and the flies sprayed and relieved themselves on it There is motion and uproar and the people were angered by Satan and his flies. The people will it to cross the waters now: To jive and to dance on new grounds Satan said: I know, I know. To hum more pleasant sounds. Typical. Everything done by me is never praised We agree. it is always criticised and scolded.

What we have made moves forward When its wheels wear out, our unity jolts it forward When they block it on its way to Capetown it does not lose its power, it roars ahead. 36 37 THE WHEEL IS TURNING what is not yours the rightful owners are demanding it back. 1. Kill them all - the dogs. 4. Because, they say, they are becoming The struggle moves forward smarter. backwards never They do not discriminate: the wagon wheels turn the ignorant and the wise - exterminated and their sound’s echo But still, can be heard in our hearts and our souls: truth remains unchanging the rightful owner of the coat it cannot change and lying stands freezing causes anger rain soaking his hones Our heads - held high shredded by frost and cold winds they hide theirs But you? You are smug The struggle moves forward For your children? Oily the best backwards never. and he? the crumbs and troubles 2. The English arrived - a stranger and we were made ministers of religion coatless in his rightful place. teachers and clerks taught to be kind, 5. humble, trusting and full of respect You were deceived but ignorant of the ways our country was governed by the first man we began losing whatever we cherished for hope. who uttered: “It is enough...I’m satisfied” 3. since then you sat content and comfortable. But the wheel is turning I use similar words darkness - ending “It is enough” and, daytime - beginning “you have enjoyed yourself too long the light has come Now it’s my turn Come freedom return my rightful share!” truth is unchanging its colours are stark 6. The end of your nights of lying The struggle moves forward is here never backwards at all.. Surely you can see for yourselves... The earth has been gulping innocent blood Return - the first blood spilled in this struggle 38 39 the very same earth we fought to retain turning you into a curse since then we have noticed your conscience pricking on the road to our freedom your heart has found no peace And you even turn onto your own people days and nights you use for pacing killing them with your own hands they say 7. You pace up and down 10. as ammunition you cargo on innocent people But the wagon-wheel turns Coward the struggle moves forward you are smudging the prospect of light backwards never. Your Casspirs, your teargas and guns Your police and your soldiers your vans and your dogs are sniping at all those fighting for freedom do not dampen the fire but the struggle continues they feed it. The police are detaining and killing freedom fighters 8. torturing people in unimaginable ways Coward yet it does not weaken our struggle You avoid attacking people our struggle is fuelled once more with weapons like your own You fear them 11. So many people detained But still, and so many people killed one day you shall harvest what you have sown that resistance should have been over by now cursing the day you were born But the wagon-wheel turns This drought infested earth rolling forward will feast on your blood and the struggle continues What you did unto others Your rulers’ merciless detentions will be done unto you and jails and your armoury of weapons malfunction shall follow you down and the struggle continues as the struggle moves forward backwards, never. 12. Impimpi remind yourself 9. what you are going to do And you - Special Branch? when we start taking over Who will help you? As victory strikes those who have helped you your friends will desert you have turned into murderers 40 41 13. for showing no mercy Now we are your lambs for slaughter and lacking in conscience We are a torturing game for your friends You continue your routine you look on and laugh at us of cruelty when we demand our rights But can’t you see when we condemn exploitation that it is our struggle and shout about our unpaid labours you’re making more respectable daily you lead us onto paths full of traps as we march forward? but your days and those of your friends have been numbered 17. and your friends will gladly give you away In the graveyards and under black clouds 14. people bury their loved ones And then, when our children - mourning and shedding their tears complain of their, gutter education? yet it bothers you little you deliver them for slaughter you do not sympathise too you show no remorse but remember you do not weaken our struggle you pretend to demonstrate bravery it your rifles are lifted as you snipe at some more strengthens defenceless people 15. unable to fight back The day is near when your murderous weapons 18. will stand witness They had them all killed - for the higher judges of truth like dogs who won’t be bribed with your money they are becoming smarter and then the filth of your deeds they did not discriminate will become known between the wise or the fools Then we shall clasp you with it matters little whether in celebration the steady grip of our hands in tears or in prayer it is all the same, 16. all game for some sniping Soldiers after all they are all getting smarter. murderers you have made orphans of us 19. with your guns When we gather, You gain your rewards singing and orating our movement’s slogans, and respect we know 42 43 that the souls of the people you have killed Piercing the bodies of those who shout are with us in the struggle that you have been enjoying far too much Your tyranny cannot overpower our stniggle for far too long ours continues going forward According to your logic - backwards never everything should by now have been sorted, the wheel is turning quiet and under by tomorrow you shall be trying to flee control. but you shall be eating dust stamped to the ground like a snake 22. - a trying punishment awaits you. Even for those you did not look like an oppressor who ignored your actions 20. and respected you, The wheel is turning you are becoming a monster Oppressor - wake up! they do not trust you anymore Beware and be conscious of what you are up to they do not address you as a friend Tomorrow the throne you occupy you are becoming an enemy. will become just another seat for others Even those who ignored our struggles the others whom you hate have opened their eyes in honor will not allow you to forget their injuries because you do not discriminate which you have inflicted and your bullets do not discriminate The wheel is turning everyone’s up for the killing and there shall be no mercy for those killing innocent children. 23. The wheel is turning The blood of the people freedom is nearer finished-off by Amabutho our strength and our dignity has also started to talk - increasing and to bear witness. we shall conquer They also are not ashamed to be killing as your time is coming up. people in mourning or prayer no feeling of shame when killing our youth 21. and people’s eyes are opening up to the horrors The struggle moves forward in this state of thieves backwards, never but they only kill the flesh the wheel is turning the soul remains alive you can hear the creaks of its motion yourself and the struggle refuses to die Day after day the struggle moves forward. your gun’s bullets pierce the bodies of more freedom-fighters .. 24. 44 45 Don’t kill they shall climb on platforms in front of people don’t intimidate and denounce you. don’t be an obstacle to freedom The struggle continues if you want the end of our struggle and your Saracens then grant the people what they want your machine-guns and sten-guns but you can’t face this truth your aeroplanes that’s why you kill and intimidate your Casspirs and your kwela-kwelas that is why you have created walls of darkness your teargas where you torture all our leaders shall not break our strength and all those who speak-out the truth Your day is selling Maye, unto you that day. 25. The wheel is turning 27. the struggle moves forward In this war backwards, never that is being fought around us the day is drawing closer we are not turning back when not a single person shall again we are wading through the blood be killed by your bullets of our kinsfolk but the people you have killed - when one of us falls their blood sucked dry when one gets by this drought-stricken earth, detained all those killed by amabutho another freedom-fighter they will rise up from the graveyards of the exploited is born and with their bare hands shall tear you to shreds 28 But you will not die The wheel is turning You will wish you were dead the struggle moves forwrd but you won’t be. fires are raging as the enemies 26 are worried and cannot sleep The wheel is turning and cannot eat the struggle moves forward for their stomach rejects food backwards never because of all the plotting to set us back your sun is setting because of the plans to put the fire out your days draw near we continue with vigour your friends, your allies we say: turn wheel turn and your propagandists turn on they will desert you and the flames keep on raging 46 47 and the smoke worries them a lot. AFRICA’S BLACK BUFALLO

29. The bull that left its byre when still in its calf stages, The wheel is turning who followed the rocky paths, followed later by more calves the struggle moves forward meeting on the mountain ridges longing we are not to lose strength for their mother, bellowing and longing we die on the one side as they never reached the promised pastures we rise on the other they were searching for, and continue to live and graze irrespective of their colour. on and on with our struggle until you become mad The black bufallo selected by other bulls, a lunatic oppressor To leave the kraal to be apprenticed wearing garlands of tree-leaves on your head It followed secret trails and trying to end off your life And the others did not see it, because the struggle continues They heard rumours it was gone. the wheel is turning. we move on. Outside the kraal, among others it bellows, The other bulls give warnings, saying,”it is enough” and “homecoming is near”

Apprenticed in Algeria and told to come back home Spotted on its arrival by the others who complained that it was dangerous to their grounds and their families could not sleep at all.

They gathered, declaring it an enemy, declaring war They seized it and forced it in isolation on the island of Patima, They returned to separate it from its calves, saying, it is not safe enough from the island of Patima it bellows and the dust goes up and the others get unrested by the dust, each bellow shows more power they throw it into further isolation, on top of a mountain of fish From such distance there it remembers its calves, It bellows and the dust moves up, the calves hear and on goes their sturdy stampede 48 49 even some of the others associate with the black bufallo’s calves Usuku lokubuya together they stir up the dust on the paths to the top of the mountain of fish Kulobusuku Bengilele ubuthongo The oppressor leaps and shouts Ngivuswe ngumsindokazi omkhulu that unfortunately, they will never be tolerated while still Nokuzama zama komhlaba alive Ngivuke ngagqoka ibhulukwe But their stomachs are grumbling and running from worry Langagqokeka, ngithathe ingubo their tails were grass-wet from excretions, ngazembesa, yasuka yawa phansi but still they attack decimating all even the milking calves are kicked, stabbed by horns. Ngibona ibheshu nesinene ngalibhozomela and finished. Umncedo angiwufakanga ngoba bengiphuthuma Bengihehwa yimvunge ebizwakala emnyango But the day is coming, Imvunge yomculo namahubo, nokuduma The tall grass will be scorched kwezulu and a new season shall start with no lies Ukuhaywa kwezinkondlo nokusina Kukhala izigubhu namacilongo kuzamazama Calves from black, brown and white bufallo’s are stampeding umhlaba harnesses are cracking, the yokes are left behind they do not sleep at nights, they have no place to sleep, Ngiphume ngabheka isimo sezulu they do not eat because they have no pasture to graze in, Isibhakabhaka angisibonanga they do not drink water, Inyanga nezinkanyezi angikufanisanga because the rivers were diverted and dried Izintuli zisimbozile isibhakabhaka they are being apprenticed they are swaying and beating up dust Ngizwe izwi lokikizelayo lithi shaking off suffering Waphuthelwa Mathand’ubuthongo Awulubonanga usuku olukhulu Be prepared black bufallo Lokubuya kwamaqhawe e-Afrika yasendulo the weight of suffering is teetering upon our shoulders. to end Amaqhawe angakuvumanga ukubuswa a cruel life beyond belief. I-Afrika ngabasemzini Laba ngabazilwa izimpi ezinzima zasendulo, banqotshwa Yebo bafa, befela izwe lase Afrika Lizwakele lomuntu onamandla amakhulu Avukile amaqhawe, abuyela ekhaya e-Afrika Eza ngamahubo, ngokusina, izimbongi 50 51 zihaya izinkondlo ubuhle bokusina Kukhala izigubhu, amacilongo, ukukikiza, Zimbongi nilaleleni? Vukani nihaye nokuzamama komhlaba izinkondlo zokubamukela nokuduma kwezulu Magagu okuhlabelela hubani nihlangabeze Ngimelwe ngumqondo okwesikhashana ngamahubo Ngizibuza ukuthi ingabe ngumbono yini na? Phakathi kwezimbongi yimina ngedwa na engithwele imimoya Cha yamaqhawe asendulo, ukuba ngibone ususku Libuya nabazabalazi basendulo lokubuya kwabangasekho? Ngesule amehlo, kwesuka imbici ngasho Kikizani, hubani, gidani, lukhulu lolususku ngabona kahle. kikiki!

Hhawu nguDingane owabaqothula basemzini abantshontsha izinkomo zakhe ayebathume ukuba bazilande kuSigonyela NguMzilikazi kaMashobane NguSikhukhuni NguCetshwayo owalwa wanqotshwa owadonsa ejele lase Robini island, wadingiselwa kwelamangisi. Wabuya sekuhleli oxubhagwinya esihlalweni sakhe sobukhosi

NguMoshweshwe oyibanika ephezulu kweThaba Bosigo wayiqothula eyasemzini ngamatshe NguSoshangane NguBhambatha kaMancinza owalwa waze wabalekela eMaputo engavumi ukuthelela ikhanda lakhe nabantu bakhe NguMakana, nguNgqikaNguHintsa owafela ezandleni zamasosha amangisi efela i-Afrika Vukani Ma-Afrika ninanele, bahlangabezeni nibamukele Yizwani ubumnandi bamahubo, nibone 52 53 Death-defiers and daughters To grow up and denigrate us some more. This poem was performed to welcome the eight ANC leaders We are like swallows building only with mud recently released from prison. But even then our efforts are kicked as if They were a rabid dog. Death-defiers, revolutionaries, we salute you You who were parted from us young Comrades - I am speaking up: and now you who returned to us old. I am asking: what does the release of our You aged under the darkest clouds death-defiers, Just because of your love for your land and The release of the “eight”, mean your people When thousands of our people are still imprisoned? Although you were parted from us body and When thousands of our people are still in soul exile? Our hearts kept you nearby Does it mean that we cease our efforts, And your names have become special on our Fold-up our arms and stare? tongues And in our meetings your names are slogans Does the ungagging of Mbeki for seven days That remind and educate workers and youth mean that Since you were parted from us Victory is near? We, for our part have never rested Is this reform? We were ruled by the iron grip of oppression Are we to be fed on dummies instead of And as you return it has reached milk? unimaginable peaks And all the paths of this land are flowing Comrades - I am welcoming our with blood death-defiers Our blood, and, the blood of the young ones With the voice of the exploited At our homes the fires are raging We are workers coming here from factories And many of us are homeless From all the different industries of South Africa We are the soil’s offspring here We are coming from the bowels of the earth Yet we are wanderers without shelters We are the miners of the gold and diamonds We have been made destitute to beg at Miners who do not know the fate of their foreigners product We have been made to feed foreigners We are from the rubber factories As our children stay hungry Where we make tyres for cars we never drive And our children are branded as fools For the “kwela-kwelas” that chase us in the As their children are reared by our mothers townships 54 55 For the “saracens” that kill our children Under escalating bus fares For the “bulldozers” that demolish our shacks Come join us workers in our exploitation We are the backbone of apartheid South and oppression Africa See how we get batoned, when we strike We are the pillars of the economy How we are decreed unlawful in whatever We are the source of the wealth of this land we do.

And we are saying: But join us for we have not lost hope “We demand to drink milk from Africa’s Get into our “inqola”, our wagon and move cattle” with us forward We are the backbone of this mess despite our The colourless wagon feelings Whose riders brace themselves in joy despite As employers pay us wages after apartheid their suffering deductions As the shops take apartheid tax-money Who are like cattle with udders full of milk As the trains and buses add their tax Treading the paths of apartheid As we pay rent for our makopokopo houses in the townships Gossipers gossip Our lives are lived through apartheid tax That it entered big buildings which hide the added hen That lay apartheid’s eggs We workers for our part salute your courage Informers are asking: Salute your commitment to truth “What is this wagon, this incipla And for surviving through difficult Without a driver doing? conditions How does it know its destination?” As you were forced away from your families I will not tell you As your love for South Africa made you Turn to your side and ask the one beside you everyone’s kin Our actions now Confuse their minds And I am not embarassed to say that Your roles are still there despite your parting Forward MDM, And that your vacated seats are still here Roll-on the in-laws are waiting But beware: Come and rejoin us then The dying donkey still kicks final hard To live under the Group Areas Act blows. Under the Labour Relations Act Under the state of emergency Under apartheid tax-added 56 57 Dear I longed to write to you about my sufferings But I lived far from postal stations and shops My dear, I am sorry, I left you without I wandered till I reached my destination warning I learned to strum at my guitar Because of the hardship we were both facing And to sing African languages, I was a A thought struck me and I realised the singer. reason for our hardships. My dear, I wish you now to tell them that I walked paths I did not know I am a sailor I wandered until I discovered the fountain of Wandering the world our sufferings When they asked about me The source of our problems as people I know they will harass you And the doors that our people have been But tell them I am a sailor wanderer knocking upon Never be subordinated

They knocked on the day of the I wandered through Rhodesia and sang thunderstorms I strumed at my guitar They knocked on the day of Domonia And the in-laws danced until they fell But the door was not opened The door was opened,they took Rhodesia They knocked while the sun blasted them And gave birth to Zimbambwe. But the door was not opened. I visited through Portugal, they danced And slept while Lorenco Marques was They stood still on a cool day of gentle winds changed to Maputo And on this gentle day they were harrassed and dispersed I am a popular singer known by the people They remain dispersed up to this day I am unpopular with the in-laws because my music is not bubblegum music I thought hard for other ways of knocking But my music speaks the tongues of Africa I understood I had to learn other languages To learn all African cultures in order to sing I sang in Angola and they danced and fell That is why I departed, I left you I sang and resolution 435 was adopted And Maggie ran losing her skirts to block me I had no right to be seen by the light of day I am known at home, strumming my guitar Nor by the darkness of the night They heard me in Messina I took shelter with all the wild beasts I played at Sasol, Vorster is my witness The mosquitors fed on me but they did not I played at Carlton Centre, Johannesburg harm me knows I played at Witbank, Le Grange can tell you 58 59 Mpondoland Blues I wandered and sang at Indwedwe, uMzinyathi can tell you “Run black boy run I sang over the bridge, Umngeni is my bullet’s coming witness run to Edolobheni I sang behind the hospital and they were in find the kitchens heaps clean the pots This is true, Clairwood can be the witness clean the pans I sang at Jacobs, Mobil can tell you dance for the baas I sang at Kwa-Langa at Bhayi your kraal is ashes I have wandered through all South Africa your goats are ashes I am popular the burning horseman from the hill has died”… I stood and strummed my guitar at Umlazi - the in-laws fell. (Qabula, 1992: PG) This is a fact, Ngculazi can be my witness He was so excited when hearing my music That he was made the in-law’s enemy Today he is still wandering in the mountains Having nowhere to stay because of his excitement

Dear, when they ask you about me, tell them that I am a sailor I am visiting far away places It is well known all over the world that I am a popular singer and the best guitar player And my music is loved by the people.

60 61 It has been such a long road and then we shall work something out for you, be calm.” Days have passed, weeks have passed It has been a long road here years have also passed with me, marking the same rhythms with us waiting like the ten virgins in the bible. everyday. I remember the old days Gentlemen, pass me by when we had become used to calling them Ladies, pass me by from the other side of the river. Each one greets me, “eita!” Some of them were in the caves and crevices and adds: hiding when we called “comrade, I will see you on my return but we hollered loud as you see I am in a hurry until they heard and they responded to our voices. but do not fear, I am with you and understand your plight.” As they came to us dust sprang up “Do not worry and spiralled high all the way up to the sky. no harm will greet you When the dust of our struggle settled, there was no one there. as long as I am alive. The dust covered my body We shall make plans with the guys it cursed me into a pathetic fate and we for sure will solve your problems. disguising me, making me unrecognisable You trust me don’t you? and whoever recognises me I remember how hard you struggled is judged to be deluded, deceived and your contribution is prized. because the dust of their feet still covers my body. In fact everyone knows how hard it all had turned when you were fighting for workers and for the community’s And now we, the abominations, spook them emancipation.” as the dust of their feet covers our bodies. And they run away Nothing lasts forever each one of them saying: “hold up the sun and our friends now show us their backs dear friend, doesn’t the fog cover each and every mountain?” and they avoid eye-contact Although you don’t know us, we know ourselves: pretending they never saw us. we are the movable ladders that take people up towards the skies, Even those whom by chance our eyes did meet left out in the open for the rain would rush and promise and leave behind left with the memories of teargas, panting for breath. a “see you later.” “What is your phone number comrade? Winter and summer come and go and leave us the same. I will call you after I finish with the planning The wind or the breeze has not changed us. Here is a summary committee on this or that of the legislature of our praises – 62 63 the iron that doesn’t bend, even Of Land, Bones and Money Geneva has failed to bend it, the small piece of bath-soap about which They talked, they talked a lot meetings and conspiracies were hatched about this and about that to catch and destroy it. ignoring that the real talk was about land, It still continues to clean men and women about bones who desire to be cleaned. about money It has been a long road here in this country without a proper name see you again my friends in this camp of the restless dead when you really need us Tutu cried about the darkened skies when the sun clears the fog from your eyes. Mandela cried that the stalks were not bearing green ten rand notes

FW cried that the miners darkened the gold And Slovo and Hani saw red everywhere in the Bantustans and streets But Tutu and the Bishops and dominees saw rainbows and they agreed, and we agreed: a fence on this plot, no fence on that a skeleton here and a skeleton there give a black cent and take a white rand in this nameless country but we prayed together in this camp what we did not say in our prayer was that the seasons of drought have no rainbows

64 65 SOCIALISM and we do not cheat profits out of each other we have slipped through their grip your hand in mine leaving their cheeks blown-up with anger no queues, no numbers and we are growing music We are responding and the cattle resting and someone is calling without bellows from the abattoir He is calling on us in their daydreams to work hard as daylight is coming your hand in mine it has been a very long sunset without any memory of hunger and a very long night music We are to sleep and listen to the voice in our dreams guitars, sitars and violins do not fear and all the children dancing The one who is beginning to call rivers and trees singing is standing beside you about past hardships... with gifts and with infinite talents Work on! Wherever (tr. from isiXhosa by Harold Nxasana) he has placed his creatures on the day of his calling they shall respond Even at the dumping ground where filth is piled-up high alongside humanity’s rejects and rubbish — they shall respond No-one can muffle such a response by insisting that he was not calling No-one can s ilence the caller even if he was to be gagged if his eyes were shut his ears were blocked and his mouth stitched even if he was gaoled in a tightly-s ealed boxhouse — so he heard nothing, saw nothing knew of nothing still, on the day marked by the call his voice would sound through the lungs of this world and the world would respond.

At the dumping ground and we do not exploit

66 67