Mandela Day, 18th July

Mandela Day
18th July 2017.

the great plains of Africa echo your name, you live in our souls, a radiant flame.

the notions of racial superiority quake in your shadow, in the teeming cities, in the rural meadow.

you had an ideal for which you were prepared to die, you banished the clouds of oppression, revealing freedom’s unfettered sky.

your courage as you spent twenty-seven years in Apartheid dungeons, was unshakeable, even as you bore the brutality of tyrannical truncheons.

your comrades and you turned Robben Island into a university of freedom, of hope, even as you were shackled by iron and rope.

your indomitable spirit reached far and wide, across the great lands and over the vast seas, infusing freedom-loving people with the strength to fight, against that festering sore, the scourge of Apartheid, with all their collective might.

and when that day came when you walked under the South African sun, tall, proud and free, we ululated, we danced, we cried tears of joy, for at long last the dawn of liberation we could finally see.

and still your battles were far from over, as you steered our teetering country away from the abyss, the violence of Apartheid so brutal in its death throes, your message of forgiveness, of reconciliation spread as far as the wind blows.

those were harsh times indeed, our beloved South Africa on the precipice of civil war, the stench of blood on the breeze, yet you remained firm, urging us to throw our weapons into the waters of our seas.

then dawned the 27th of April in 1994, when all of our peoples queued to vote, democratically and peacefully, to realise the ideals and principles you and your comrades and countless, nameless others, fought, sacrificed, and died for.

and on the 10th day of May a couple of weeks later, you became our President, our Commander-in-Chief, as the yoke of hegemony was cast off, after all the pain, the suffering, the savagery, and the grief.

your principles never wavered, you did not to the powerful bow, you remained steadfast in your dream of a better society for all, you taught us to rise up again, to stand upright, after many a fall.

your humanity, your conscience became a part of the wind, your message, your dedication to the human cause, inspired numberless more, breaking the latches of racism on many a shut door.

you were our Madiba, our father, our beacon of truth, your message imbibed by so many, the aged and the youth.

then came that sorrowful day when you passed away, and to the welcoming arms of our ancestors you made your way.

we cried, we sobbed, our world convulsed, having lost you as you no longer walked amongst us in flesh and in bone, yet your example, your life entire, became a lesson set in stone.

today we fight newer battles, the enemy not so apparent, not so clear, corrupt in words and in deed, we see the scurrying for power and for greed.

we see our beloved rainbow nation fracturing, your dreams of economic and social justice diluted by avarice, and not by need.

but still we cherish and strive and fight on, todays battlefields less easily defined, the enemy often within us, and harder to find.

still your revolutionary spirit, your unwavering belief in equality for all, your principled struggle never expedient, but for what was, for all, true and right,

it is still that undying spirit of yours that compels us to never rest, to never give up the just fight.

Viva Nelson Mandela Viva!

Mayibuye-i-Afrika!

Amandla! ngAwethu!

All Power to the People!

The Struggles Continue …

with President Nelson Mandela. Johannesburg 2008.

__________

http://www.anc.org.za/content/nelson-mandela

talkin’ post-racial blues … … …

Guthrie Ledbetter Seeger

well they ask me why I’m so sore,
they tell me racism ain’t a problem no mo’,

they tell me that,
they tell me this,

sayin’ it’s a new world,
they tell me to bask in a state of bliss,

but i ain’t cool,
i don’t buy the drool,

cos’ I’m talkin’ post-racial blues,
walk awhile in my ragged shoes,

wearing my happy face,
jus’ tryin’ to make it in this godawful rat race,

so don’t be tellin’ this,
quit tellin’ ’bout all that jazz,

cos’ I’m sick ‘n’ tired,
of the sterile razzmatazz,

cos’ I’m talkin’ post-racial blues,
fallin’ deeper as i ramble in my ragged shoes,

don’t be tellin’ me about the post-racial status-quo,
cos’ I’m sick ‘n’ tired of the whole damn show,

yeah, I’m talkin’ the post-racial blues … … …

The Valiant Ones

Published in A&U Magazine, May 2013

They left so abruptly,
the valiant ones.

Countless,
many known,
many more nameless.

The truest sons and singers,
husbands and poets,
lovers and wives,
daughters and farmers,
workers and sisters,
brothers and friends.

They left so abruptly,
with quiet pride,
a steely courage,

and a gentle dignity.

They left so abruptly,
leaving us our tomorrows,

brighter!
Hopeful!

filled with promise.

They left so abruptly,
so that we may breathe,

the breath of liberty!

The air of freedom!

The warmth of justice!

They left so abruptly,
leaving with us their parting gift …

freedom!
inkululeko!
swatantrata!
liberte!
azadi!
vhudilangi!
libertad!
esteghlal!

They left so abruptly,
yet we remember them all today,

and in the days to come,
their legacy will light our way!

They left so abruptly,
yet they remain!

Hewn into our memory and conscience,
engraved in our heart!

They left so abruptly,
and yet they endure,

with us,
within us,

now and forever more!

Pandit-Ji – a poem for Jawaharlal Nehru

A Poem for Jawaharlal Nehru

Pandit-Ji*

1.

The moon cast an enveloping shadow over the teeming multitudes,

as they made their tryst with destiny**,

with you as the bearer of the light,

and at the stroke of the midnight hour,

you emerged an icon, from the long and desolate night.

Long years had passed,
since those humid evenings spent,
languishing in jail,

yet your mind remained unshackled,
putting words on paper in the dim candlelight,

as the gaudy glare of empire began to pale.

2.

Today,
you live,

within us,
though not amongst us,

and,

your discovery,
your glimpses,

smoulder within me,

your immortal words,
my compass.

I am now,
the soul of nations,
once suppressed,

that have,
found utterance.

I am now,
me.

I am now,
finally,

free.

       _________________

* – ‘Pandit-Ji’ was the name that Jawaharlal Nehru, the first Prime Minister of independent India, was respectfully called.

** – excerpts from Jawaharlal Nehru’s speech on 15th August 1947

We forget …

We forget the newly independent Tanzania, Zambia, and other ‘Front line States’ in the struggle against Apartheid tyranny.

We forget the burdens they shouldered as they embodied the very essence of that very humane of philosophies – uBuntu – I am because we are.

We forget the Apartheid foe foment civil-wars in Mozambique by incubating Renamo as a counter-revolutionary force against Frelimo.

We forget Unita in Angola battling the MPLA.

We forget Koevoet in Namibia fighting SWAPO.

We forget The Battle of Cuito Cuanavale.

We forget The Wankie Campaign.

We forget …

We forget much.

Xenophobia Shreds the Rainbow Nation

wrote this a while ago.

Sadly true today.

It ain’t Xenophobia? Really?

it’s not xenophobia,
the refrain is the same,

it’s the criminals to blame,

we still won’t be calling the attacks by their stinking name,

‘xenophobia’

yes,

that’s what it is,

but,

let us not be simplistic,

we have to face the ugliness of our collective shame,

because when mostly ‘foreigners’ get put to the flame,

how can we ignorance feign?

it’s xenophobia,
simple & plain,

with poverty & unemployment barrelling on a runaway train,

and it won’t just ‘go away’,

for as long as ignorant complicity continues to reign …

       _____________________

‘Xenophobia’ is defined in the Oxford English Dictionary as:

” noun:

intense or irrational dislike or fear of people from other countries  “

The synonyms for xenophobia are:

chauvinism, racial intolerance, racism, dislike of foreigners, nationalism, prejudice.

     _____________

As a citizen of South Africa, I am acutely aware of the many challenges that our young country faces.

The iniquities of our tortured past, the legacy of Apartheid, socio-economic issues etc. are just a few of the many problems that South Africa is grappling with.

What is extremely disturbing for me is something that I have personally encountered, in conversations with friends, family, and fellow citizens from all walks of life.

That something is how rife ‘anti-foreigner’ sentiment is within our various, and still divided communities.

I have heard the most atrocious, insensitive, hate-filled utterances regarding the ‘foreigners’ who ‘take our jobs’, and ‘take our women’, and ‘are the cause of all the crime’, and ‘they must go back to their countries’, and most chillingly ‘we will kill these foreigners’.

I am also aware that many intellectuals, think-tanks, NGO’s, and sociologists etc. have written and spoken volumes about how the failure of proper service delivery by the government and local municipalities, and the myriad other shortcomings that plague our country have played a part in the emergence of this abhorrent xenophobic sentiments that are being spouted almost as if one was talking about culling animals in the Kruger National Park.

We have already witnessed the scourge of xenophobia, and not long ago, when organised bands of people marked, attacked and killed ‘foreigners’ in a frenzy of blood-letting and looting.

This was in 2008.

And today, as the father of the nation, Nelson Mandela lies ill in a hospital bed in Pretoria, I hear similar disturbing and blood-curdling hate-speech directed against ‘the foreigners’.

What is going on?

Where and how have we, as a country, failed, or more worryingly, chose to ignore the signs of this cancer that has to be dealt with, and dealt with as a matter of national priority.

The synonyms for xenophobia include racism, racial intolerance, and prejudice.

The neo-Nazis in Europe and elsewhere are xenophobes.

No one disputes that.

The neo-Nazis in Europe and elsewhere talk in almost exactly the same terms when they spout their rhetoric, when they go on ‘Paki-bashing’ sprees in England, when they deface Synagogues and Mosques and Temples, or when they beat up and kill ‘foreigners’ who ‘take our jobs’, and ‘take our women’, and ‘are the cause of all the crime’, and ‘they must go back to their countries’.

What is particularly disturbing about the rise of xenophobia, especially in the South African context is the complicity of silence, and by extension, a shocking acceptance of these racist and murderously dangerous views, by ‘normal’ citizens.

We are Africans.

And above all, we are all human.

This may seem like an obvious and unnecessary fact to point out, but when certain friends, family members, and people one interacts with daily, spew such xenophobic drivel, it needs to be taken seriously.

Pogroms, xenophobic attacks, racism, intolerance, prejudice, casteism, religious bigotry, sexism, and homophobia, do not simply arise out of nothing.

There are societal, religious, traditional, cultural and other factors that do indeed create fertile ground for some of these noxious sentiments to germinate.

It is incumbent on us all, people, just people, to engage with people, however close they may be to us, and challenge and make our voices heard that we will not stand mutely by, as such hate-filled venom is flung around nonchalantly.

We cannot be conspicuous by our silence and inaction when a large segment of our society, those who have chosen our country to be their home, often fleeing economic hardship, political and social violence, and numberless other factors that force, and this is important, people are forced into leaving their countries, often making hazardous and painful journeys in order to find safe-haven amongst fellow human-beings.

As South Africans, we know just how friendly countries welcomed us during the darkest days of Apartheid repression and tyranny.

Zambia, Zimbabwe, Tanzania, Mozambique, Angola, and the other ‘front-line’ states paid dearly for offering South Africans fleeing Apartheid a place of refuge as well as a base of operations against the oppressive Apartheid system.

Apartheid agents and security forces attacked, fomented insurrections against the governments in the front-line states, and still South Africans of all races, creeds etc. found a welcome home in these comradely countries.

We should never forget this.

Ever.

Our government needs to be more vocal about its stance on xenophobia, and by doing so it will send a message that it will not stand by idly while people from other parts of the continent are constantly under the threat of being attacked.

That said, we as citizens have a voice, and it is morally incumbent on all of us to do our bit so that the scourge of xenophobia is excised from this land.

There is a simmering undercurrent of the possibility of attacks on foreigners as I type these words.

If this is not taken seriously and dealt with, sadly we may see scenes similar to those we witnessed in 2008.

Mayibuye-i-Afrika!

The Struggles Continue!

For Malala Yousafzai …

For Malala Yousafzai …

(for Malala Yousafzai, 14 years old, in a critical condition after being shot in the head by the Pakistani Taliban, for her work as a young activist advocating the rights of girls to attend school)

When hot lead tears the flesh of a 14 year old girl,

ripping through her skull,
leaving her to bleed out and die,

does Allah not recoil in horror,

to see His child whimper,
to see His daughter cry.

Where is the indignation,

the anger that often boils over and manifests itself as flags and books and videos are burnt in mass orgies of hollow piety,

where are the voices that scream so loud,
that denounce all but their own creed,

where are the men, the impotent men who crave for nothing more than their fascist egos to feed,

where are the voices that so loudly proclaim,
enemies here and enemies there, always quick to condemn,

where are those voices when the enemy walks amongst them.

14 year old Malala Yousafzai was shot in cold blood,

her crime?

Advocating the rights of girls to an education.

Shame on you, men of bigotry and men of cowardice.

Shame on you, silent and mute accomplices in this carnage.

Shame on me,
for my inaction,

Shame on us all,
who proclaim lofty ideals,

yet are conspicuously silent,

when a 14 year old girl is shot in the head,

by fascist fundamentalist bigots who only worship bullets of hot lead.

Not in my name!

Not in my name,
shall the cowardly men rain down abuse,

Not in my name,
shall the bigoted men light the communalistic fuse,

Not in my name,
shall Malala Yousafzai be shot in the head,

left to bleed out,
while countless mothers’ tears are shed,

not in my name,
shall religious murderers,
be left to wander free,

not in my name,
for I dare all believers to open their eyes,
to see!

To see,
the innocence of a 14 year old girl,
wanting only an education,

as the men of the cloth,
prance around with their pathetic self-righteous indignation.

I write this today,
the anger raging in my veins,

yet I fear,

that I shall write more of this,

unless we stand up and say ‘no more’,

I fear that I shall be writing this again,

until we all,

reclaim the true principles of humaneness,

until we silence the voices of bigotry,
of rage,
of fanatical insanity,

I fear I shall be writing this again,

and,

until the muck-ridden bile,
is not excised,

I shall continue to say,

NOT IN MY NAME!

Or else I shall have nothing,

but my unending shame

uBuntu …

uBuntu …

We are here today,

and today we pause to remember those who passed before us.

We walk along many paths,

crisscrossing myriad strands that bind us as one,

strands of conscience,

painfully forged by the ancestors.

We imbibe the spirit of uBuntu,

giving thanks to those who shed blood and sweat and tears,

selflessly guiding us ever onwards,

onwards, yes,

yet ever conscious,

that we are all,

all of us,

hewn from the winds,

forged in the depths,

our jagged edges far, far more radiant,

than dead flawless diamonds.

We are here today,

and we stand as one,

together braving the thunder rolling across the plains,

soaking in the rejuvenating blessings,

bathing us in the rains,

the heartbeat of Africa,

throbbing within us all,

whispering,

guiding,

comforting us,

that,

whenever we fall,

we need only stretch out our hands,

to be lifted up again,

helped back on our feet,

to stand once again,

together,

always, always together,

tall.

The spirit of uBuntu,

flows through our collective veins,

urging us to see,

to hear,

to share the light of peace and of unity,

for we are all,

all of us,

sculpted from one whole,

one mould,

far, far more priceless,

than dead nuggets of gold.

“I am because we are”.

Ngiyabonga, Nkosiyama …

uBuntu is an isiXhosa/isiZulu concept that espouses “the belief in a universal bond of sharing that connects all humanity” )

Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi ( 1869 – 1948 )

Gandhi-Ji …

1.

It was your beloved Jawaharlal* who uttered these words when you were gunned down by the agents of hate,

‘The light has gone out’, mourned Pandit – Ji*,

and indeed your life was snuffed out on that 30th day of a cold New Delhi January in 1948,

yet you live,

you live on,

a perennial thorn in the side of tyranny,

and the voice of the voiceless multitudes,

still scraping in garbage bins for a bite to eat.

2.

‘The world is big enough for everyone’s need, but it isn’t big enough for everyone’s greed’, you once said,

and Bapu*, your prophetic words ring true today,

in Soweto,

Diepsloot,

Chatsworth,

Gugulethu,

Alexandra,

and everywhere,

all the time.

3.

‘India gave us Mohandas, and we returned him to you as the Mahatma*’, said President Nelson Mandela,

Madiba was your son,
Martin Luther King Jr. as well,

and today your sons and daughters across this world,

look to you again,

in a world torn apart by sectarian strife,
bigotry, racism, religious intolerance, greed,

and Capitalism gone insane,

for as long as there are mouths that hunger to be fed,

for as long as there are naked bodies that need to be clothed,

for as long as your sons and daughters struggle for the very basics,

the 99%,

trodden-upon,
dignity stripped,
dreams tossed out into the sewers …

… we need your sanity,
we need your eternal flame to light our paths ahead,

we need you,

as the parched desert needs a shower of rain,

we need you!

and we need to,

remember that we are all human,

if we are to build a new world,

less cruel,

and more humane …

       _______________

* – Mahatma or ‘Great Soul’

* – October 2nd is the birth anniversary of MK Gandhi

* – The first Prime Minister of independent India was Jawaharlal Nehru,  also called Pandit-Ji,  and endearingly Chacha Nehru

* – Bapu means father and Gandhi-Ji was often referred to as Bapu or Bapu-Ji

afzaljhb@gmail.com

Deborah Alma – The Emergency Poet

http://m.bbc.com/news/magazine-29352405

afzaljhb@gmail.com

Hope & Renewal …

Hope & Renewal …

1.

Hidden beneath life’s undergrowth,

a flower blooms,

amidst  thorns,

a whiff of beauty wafts over desolate spaces,

deep in the thicket of my heart,

where wounds are raw,

and the world is merely a blur of worn-down faces.

2.

The solitary flower strains towards the light,

in the dim bleakness of unnamed woes,

it’s fragility,

innocence distilled,

pristine,

simple,

natural,
healing,
renewing,

reaching between the open wounds,

of this splintered heart,

caressing my soul,

with a faint murmur of promise.

3.

Hidden beneath life’s undergrowth,

life stirs,

whistling melodies,
healing my shattered heart,

offering comfort,
solace,

peace,

a wounded peace,
while gathering the pieces,

an elusive, wily peace,

yet tangible,

alive!

breathing!

Breathing life back,

as pain flees,

and as,

numbness ceases…

afzaljhb@gmail.com

The African Rains …

The African Rains …

Soaking,
the rains settle,
meandering over jagged faultlines of our memory.

Drenching,
the rains settle,
streaming through veins,

the thud-thudding of the heartbeat of Africa.

Absorbing,
the rains that settle,
within each of us,

herald rebirth.

And,
if you listen,

if you strain to hear,
while shedding the raucous noise of your inner turmoil.

If you listen,

the whispers of the ancestors,

speak to us all,
lending us warmth,
urging us to stand,
even though we may
stumble,

even though we may fall.

scribblerofverses@gmail.com

Rains over Jo’Burg …

Rains over Jo’Burg…

The parched African earth soaks up the liquid offering from the heavens,

birds sing,

ululating,

a chorus of relieved catharsis flows through my barren heart,

the steady rain continues,

elevating just another day,

transforming a dry insipid moment,

into a cacophony of jubilant life,

life!

life flowing,

streaming down the desolate avenues,

dripping like perennial teardrops,

down the cheeks of this crazy,

maddening city of gold,

moments of undistilled supreme mirth,

heralds the arrival of a new season,

a triumphant rebirth,

jubilant,
relieved,
ecstatic,

as the Gods of Africa,

and the spirits of the Ancestors,

smile down,

on us,

we of flesh,

and of blood,

and of muscle,

and of bone,

soaking hardened hearts,
dead as cold stone,

infusing new life,

amidst the fragrant scent of rain on dry soil,

while the bronze sun retreats,

seeking respite behind the dark, hopeful clouds of charcoal grey,

while the rains shower their blessings,

banishing the winter chills,

and graciously beckoning spring to stay.

The rains over Jo’Burg caress the leaves on the trees,

cleansing the accumulated baggage that only yesterday so listlessly hung,

over the dryness in my soul,

scorched by a merciless  winters’ sun,

Ah! But today,

today,

there are songs to be sung!

today,

I feel complete,

I am with the heavens,

no longer splintered,
into a thousand and three fragmented pieces,

at last I am whole,

at last,

I am one…

scribblerofverses@gmail.com

Spartaco Fontanot

D-Day June 6, 1944 …

Mowed down by lead spewing from Nazi machine guns,

Young men sliced on the the beaches of Normandy,

Blood stained the salty sea crimson,

Torn limbs and lifeless bodies scattered along Juno, Gold, and Omaha beach,

Young men, shredded by shrapnel,

Holding the line,

Inch by blood-soaked inch,

As the fascist juggernaut was brought down to its knees,

And still the fight raged on,

From the eastern front to the acts of valour,

Carried out by partisans in the name of freedom from the jackboot of Nazism,

There was a young man called Spartaco Fontanot and I end this poem with a letter he wrote to his mother :

Dear Mum*,

Of all people I know you are the one that will feel it most, so my very last thoughts go to you. Don’t blame anyone else for my death, because I myself chose fate.

I don’t know what to write to you, because, even though I have a clear head, I can’t find the right words.

I took my place in the Army of Liberation, and I die as the light of victory is already beginning to shine … I shall be shot very shortly with twenty three other comrades.

After the war you must claim your rights to a pension. They will let you have my things at the jail, only I am keeping Dad’s undervest, because I don’t want the cold to make me shiver…

Once again I say goodbye.

Courage!

Your son.
Spartaco

(Spartaco Fontanot, metalworker, twenty-two years old,member of the French Resistance group of ‘Misak Manouchian’, 1944)

* – from Eric Hobsbawn’s book ‘Age of Extremes: The Short Twentieth Century 1914 – 1991′

Why I Will be Voting for the African National Congress of South Africa?

I Will Vote for the ANC … But for heavens sake, Why?

In 1993, almost three years after our return from exile, I finally ceased being a ‘stateless’ person and became a citizen of South Africa.

I was born and grew up in exile, my parents having had to leave their home, their country, and their families as the ANC propelled the struggle for freedom against Apartheid into the international spotlight. 

Following the un-banning of the liberation movements and the release of political prisoners, we returned to South Africa as 1990 grew to a close. 

South Africa at the time was riven by hideous state-sponsored violence, with the Apartheid regime actively arming and running hit-squads in the townships and supporting various right-wing elements in an attempt to throttle the birth of a free, non-racial, non-sexist, democratic South Africa. 

The country stood at a precipice. 

Ahead lay the spectre of a country at war with itself. 

We stepped back, away from the abyss.
 

A rainbow nation was born. 

Today, twenty years on, we vote in our fifth general election.

I shall vote. 

I shall not spoil my ballot. 

I shall be voting for the African National Congress.

Why? 

Many will ask the question, and it is a very important question.

My reasons are simple. 

I will not attempt to make a single excuse for the corruption, the misuse of state funds, the horrendous crime, the poor standards of service-delivery, and many, many other issues that affect the lives of everyday South Africans. 
‎
There can be no excuses. ‎

And yet, I will be voting for the party that liberated South Africa, and that party is the ANC. 

Not because I am a rabid flag-waving ANC supporter. 

And most definitely  not because I do not see the failures of the ANC, and furthermore not because I am unable to understand the frustrations of so many of our fellow compatriots. 

I will be voting for the ANC because the ANC is the most mature political party across our political spectrum, where all South Africans, regardless of race, creed, gender, and sexual-orientation  can still find a home in the party that liberated South Africa from the yoke of racial tyranny and oppression. 

I will be voting for the ANC because I believe that the ANC is not just the party of Mandela, Tambo, Sisulu, Slovo, Dadoo, Hani, Fischer and Mbeki, but that the foundations that those fearless leaders laid, and the ideals which the Mandelas, Tambos, Sisulus, Slovos, Dadoos, Fischers, Hanis, and Mbekis, amongst countless others,  nurtured and gave their lives for still need to be realised.

The struggle is far from over. 

As we approach our elections, across the ocean, the world’s largest democracy, India, is on the cusp of electing a  right-wing, ultra-nationalist demagogue, Narendra Modi, as it’s next Prime Minister. 

The Indian National Congress, the party of Mahatma Gandhi and of Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru may suffer a humiliating defeat at the polls. 

The Indian National Congress has no one but itself to blame for its woes. 

It’s failings has nudged India towards the precipice of being consumed by the politics of hate, mistrust and suspicion of other communities. 

The African National Congress of South Africa too, has no one to blame but itself for the position it finds itself in today. 

We too have seen, with horror, the scourge of xenophobic poison flowing through our land. 

That is why I shall vote for the African National Congress of South Africa, because the ANC is the only organisation that has consistently, and long before 1994, been true to the internationalist ideals that our very own concept of uBuntu exemplifies. 

Someone once said that the aberrations of individuals must never detract from the cause as a whole.

The cause that the ANC fought for was a just cause, and delivered unto us a country infused with the ideals of justice, equality, and freedom. 

As a South African of Indian origin, I believe it is imperative for the formerly oppressed minority communities in our country to further strengthen and forge anew the solidarity with the majority of our fellow compatriots that was so evident in our united stand during the struggle against Apartheid divisiveness and tyranny. 

I am an African, and my fate and the fates of those dear to me are inextricably fused with the fate of our beautiful country. ‎

I will be voting.

And I will be voting for the ANC, once again because the African National Congress is the only political party that has consistently fought for, and struggled, under the harshest divisive machinations of the  Apartheid regime, to always maintain, as the Freedom Charter proclaims, that South Africa belongs to all those who live in it, regardless of race, caste, tribe, gender, sexual-orientation, and creed.

The future does not seem bleak to me, though I am not blind to the appalling inequality that scars our society, because I too believe that the aberrations of ANC members, MP’s, Cabinet Ministers, and even the President, shall not consume the ANC and it’s cause, which still is to ensure a better life for all South Africans. 

Is my reasoning flawed? Perhaps. 

Do I sound like a ‘my party right or wrong’ blind supporter? I probably do. 

But I shall be voting with my conscience, and my conscience will not allow me to vote for the myriad other parties that offer South Africa little else but platitudes, whilst stoking the embers of divisive toxicity. 

I will vote for the ANC, the only political party in South Africa that, I do believe, has the interests of all South Africans, regardless of race, creed, gender, or sexual-orientation, at its very core. 

There is still much work yet to be done before we can ever truly honour the ideals that Mandela, Tambo, Sisulu, Slovo, Dadoo, Hani, and Mbeki personified.‎

It is only together, all South Africans striving in our own ways to realise the ideals that once meant so much, and that now, more than ever, must compel us to endeavour towards. 

Amandla!

The Struggle Continues!

And the struggles continue…

‎

Madiba (1918 – 2013)

Madiba.

( 1918 – 2013 )

Madiba, you are resting now.

Madiba, you have joined the ancestors.

Madiba, you are with your comrades.

Madiba, you are with us.

Madiba, you are within us.

Madiba, you live!

Madiba lives!

He lives!

He lives!

He lives…

Nelson Mandela’s letter to my father when my mum passed away

For. Our Father, Nelson Mandela

For Madiba
(1918 – 2013)

And Just When I Felt Lost…

,,,again,

when i feared that you were slipping away

i feared more for myself, in truth I say, than for you.

again…

you came back to us

again…

your light shone, ablaze

reaching inside of me with the warmth of your dignity

with your infinite gentleness

with your effortless peace

with all that made you, you

again…

soothing me as you soothed a nation

and a people, and people everywhere

of every hue

and of every creed

and of the human spirit itself

again…

you gave of yourself

again…

you breathed my fears away

you embraced me as you have always done

again…

you made me cry

weeping tears of joy for you

for your light to shine on through

again…

you shined so brightly

as I basked in your warmth of you being you

again…

you cradled my shaken being in your hands, lined with age and with wisdom and with a pureness so bright

that just knowing that you were finally home, smiling that fatherly smile of yours

was enough for me, to slip into the waiting arms of this warm and joyous night

and again…

you came back to me on this night

and just knowing that you are with me

is enough now, for within me, you will reside forever more

just knowing that you are resting, finally

fills me with the biting grief of parting

and with the peace and the joy that has been your gift to me, and to us, one and all

shaking me to my very core

as you have selflessly done

throughout all our lives, and on countless occasions before

He is home!

You are home!

and

i am home with you

as your light of life continues to shine

now and forever

warm and dignified and forever true!

Viva Nelson Rolihlala ‘Madiba’ Mandela Viva!

For Madiba…

For our Father, Nelson ‘Madiba’ Mandela

you are our eternal inspiration

our hopes
our dreams
our conscience

you gave everything of yourself

so that we may live and love and laugh and dream and breathe the air of freedom, dignity and liberty

you lead us through the darkest days with your unshakeable principles and your belief in us

you brought peace and freedom to us

and when at times we felt all was lost

you stayed with us as a father would

you lent us your wisdom
and you chastised us too

and we are here today because of you

you stayed with us, Nelson Rolihlala ‘Madiba’ Mandela, through all the crests and valleys of our turbulent times

you stayed with us, father

and today, we know,

that you, our father Madiba,

you live!

You live!

And you shall always live…

Madiba Breathes

Madiba breathes,

the heartbeat of our hopes,

the pulse of our common joys,

the memory of our shared pain,

the promise of our founding ideals.

Let Madiba breathe,

in peace…

South Africa salutes Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

South Africa salutes Dr. Martin Luther King Jr!

They gunned you down,
on this April day,
all those years ago,

yet you live, you breathe!

They gunned you down,
just as they did Chris Hani and M.K. Gandhi,

and they failed, as they always will,

for they can never kill,

your dream, your ideals.

Your dream, your ideals,

live, and breathe,

still!

The South African Rains

Soaking,
the rains settle,
meandering over jagged faultlines of our memory.

Drenching,
the rains settle,
streaming through veins,

the thud-thudding of the heartbeat of Africa.

Absorbing,
the rains that settle,
within each of us,

herald rebirth.

And,
if you listen,

if you strain to hear,
while shedding the raucous noise of your inner turmoil.

If you listen,

the whispers of the ancestors,

speak to us all,
lending us warmth,

urging us to stand,

even though we may
stumble,

even though we may fall

And Just When I Felt Lost

again…

when i feared that you were slipping away

i feared more for myself, in truth I say, than for you

again…

you came back to us

again…

your light shone, ablaze

reaching inside of me with the warmth of your dignity

with your infinite gentleness

with your effortless peace

with all that makes you, you

again…

soothing me as you soothed a nation

and a people, and people everywhere

of every hue

and of every creed

and of the human spirit itself

again…

you gave of yourself

92 and frail and weak and alive

oh yes alive!

again…

you breathed my fears away

you embraced me as you have always done

again…

you made me cry

weeping tears of joy for you

for your light to shine on through

again…

you shined so brightly

as I basked in your warmth of you being you

again…

you cradled my shaken being in your hands, lined with age and with wisdom and with a pureness so bright

that just knowing that you are back home, smiling that fatherly smile of yours

was enough for me, to slip into the waiting arms of this warm and joyous night

and again…

though i know that you cannot be with me forever more

you came back to me on this night

and just knowing that you are still here with me now

is enough now, for within me, you will reside forever more

just knowing that you are resting and recovering at home

filled, and fills me with peace and with joy

with the peace and the joy that has been your gift to me, and to us, one and all

shaking me to my very core

as you have selflessly done

throughout my life, and on countless occasions before

He is home

you are home

and

i am home with you

as your light of life continues to shine

now and forever

warm and dignified and forever true

Viva Nelson Rolihlala ‘Madiba’ Mandela Viva!

For Madiba

as you continue the struggle some more, today for life…

‘it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die’ you said, all those years ago

as you stood in the dock awaiting the sentence of death

they locked you up instead

for 27 hard and long and arduous years

you stood firm
you never wavered
you gave hope to us all

and then when they could no longer keep up their unjust tyranny

you emerged into the light of freedom

your hand raised in a defiant fist in the february Cape Town air

– Amandla!

you then weaved and bobbed and fought some more, the boxer in you always present

you fought for peace in our land

for us all you fought

and then came that glorious day

when you were our president

and we laughed and we cried

and you fought for us even more

today you fight a different fight

for life, and we are helpless

we, who you fought for all along

have only hope and prayer and song and wishes of life for you

today, you fight some more

may you fight for life some more, Tata Madiba!

and may you prevail

for you are our father

and father, your children call out to you once more

with wishes
prayers
songs

your children wish for you, to remain here with us some more

and though helpless your children may be

in this battle that you wage for life today

and though frail and old your body is

your indomitable spirit smiles that inimitable Madiba smile

your spirit resides in each of us

your loving children

amandla!

 

Old Sof’town*

1.

In old Sof’town,
the jazz struck chords,

the jazz lived, it exploded,
out of the cramped homes,
rolling along the streets,
of old Kofifi,

in tune to countless blazing heartbeats.

In old Sof’town,
Bra’ Hugh breathed music, Sis’ Dolly too,
and Bra’ Wally penned poems that still ring true.

In old Sof’town,
Father Trevor preached
equality and justice,
for all, black and white and brown,

and all shades, every hue,
even as oppression battered the people,
black & blue.

In old Sof’town,
the fires of resistance raged,

‘we will not move’ was the refrain,

even as the fascists tore down Sof’town,
with volleys of leaden rain.

In old Sof’town,
the people were herded,
like cattle,
sent to Meadowlands,
far away and cold and bleak,
as the seeds of resistance,
sprouted and flourished,
for the coming battle.

In old Sof’town,
the bulldozers razed homes,
splitting the flesh of a community apart,
only to raise a monument of shame,
and ‘Triomf’ was its ghastly name.

2.

In Jozi today,
we remember those days,
and those nights of pain,
that stung our souls.
like bleak winter rain.

Yes, we remember old Sof’town,
as we struggle onward,
to reclaim our deepest heritage,
and build anew,
a country of all hues and shades,
of black and of white and of brown.

And yes, we will always remember,

and yes, we will never forget,

the price that was paid,
by the valiant sons and daughters,
of old Sof’town,

those vibrant African shades and hues,

of black,
of white,
of brown.

* Sophiatown was also called Sof’town and Kofifi.