Of What significance Am I


Of what significance am I really


Of what significance am I really

To use the tongue

To hold my roots spell bound


Remind them who they are

What they stand for

Reduce them

To what they aren’t

Remind them of every thing forgotten


That once upon a time they were more than black sweaty bodies

Soothy and sticky

Smelly,purely disposable;

Reduced to



That a dog was once much

Better than they

That a whoring bitch-dog was to them, once of saintly



That the oppressor’s tongue

Reduced my fathers,

My kings:

To nothing more than a wee-wee’s sound

Their back flesh wrenched in shreds

Like a tractor’s work in the fields they worked.

Big ,broad, strong hungry shoulders wet in sweat;


They are soldiering on,

Panting as they go

That’s who they were once

That’s who we were once

That is me

That is who I was.


Oh my tongue; soap is not enough to wash this off,

Am I to accept.


I the Nowadays Nguni: A glimpse at my fleeing heritage

The Swazi, the Zulu and the Xhosa in pictures.

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