City of Drama
On the morning of June 16, 1976, thousands of black students walked from their schools to Orlando Stadium for a rally to protest against having to learn through Afrikaans in school.
I have written this to remind and inspire people and poets alike, who will remember the troubles
and allow themselves a moment to ponder, and respect the sacrifices made.
Sawubona = hello, mfowethu = my brother, baba = sir,
Lapha Ngiseholidini, means I am here on holiday.
“Sawubona mfowethu –
so where to?
Lapha ngiseholidini,
A national, International
day of celebration on this -
June sixteenth.
But what can
‘We’ celebrate when crying.
I saw him bleeding,
his sister close,
screaming for his life.
So where to mfowethu?
The cemetery where many,
were seized from days of living.
The bullets and the beatings
stealing township, and
citizens in days of the Apartheid?
The cemetery belittles,
the sacrifice they made.
Schoolchildren with home made
clothes and bags to carry books
considered unlawful by the Boer.
“Baba, come with me!”
This march sings sad songs
to celebrate the passing of the child.
Tonight, we’ll stay by twilight
and sing the songs of freedom.
We are no longer homeless, this –
at last is our land to enjoy.
A love of land and country;
That long ago, endured plight of
battle that never scattered peoples hopes.
Hector Petersen is there, is here
within my heart and everywhere
I stare;
Looking at the people,
glad their courage dared.
“Did we do it mfowethu?
Do we now teach?
Do we keep our land?
Is it placed in hands Biko?
Are we free from tyranny?"
“Baba, this a warning to the
soul from Petersen himself;
Not to linger too defiantly upon
his tragic death but dance.
Celebrate the day now passing by and cry.
Let the mourning turn
to days of joy for here upon the night.
I state, he was more than just a boy;
A casualty of war that forged alliances
from Earth that came knocking
at the open chasm that once hung
a sculpted door, our door.
And though, the bloodletting did
neither stop nor clot, we sit today
in victory, in peace, our children reading
books once burned a million moons away.”
“Mfowethu!
So where to this pride
That cannot hide these tears?”
“Sowetu my brother,
Sowetu!”
