111 results
88 - Namhla Izwi Lake Lise Zaqwitini!! (Usuku loku Nyukela) Today he roars in a whirlwind! (Ascension Day)
- Nontsizi Mgqwetho
- Edited and translated by Jeff Opland
- Translated by Phyllis Ntantala, Abner Nyamende
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- Book:
- Nation's Bounty
- Published by:
- Wits University Press
- Published online:
- 11 June 2019
- Print publication:
- 01 June 2007, pp 384-387
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Summary
Editor, thanks for the poets’ column. I'm here, still alive and no poet. I carry the milkpail across the Orange River. I look old with a beard like Hili. Listen!!
While he was on a visit to Bethany, they saw Jesus ascending in a cloud. With his hands, he blessed his disciples for the last time. Listen! The sun will rise in the courtyard, the witches’ huts should be clustered and move in a group to Baboon Sack Land. Gabriel will stay in the heavens and heaven's thunder will shatter. The Veil of Shame is ascending, the bird who crosses the milkers’ path. He will ascend as if bearing a roof, yet he's bearing the whole of the firmament. Angels that step on him will slip. Hoyi to him, the Son of David, the wild beast with red eyes, the leopard whose spots bring it food while we're dying! Ascend that hill of Calvary, bearing the cries of our nation to your father, until the voice of the black people is heard, dancing at the gates of Zion. Peace! Awu!! Will this judge return? Yes! He says he is going to prepare a place for us (John 14: 2; Hebrews 11: 16; Galatians 4: 26; Hebrews 11: 10). Who among the prophets bears witness for Jesus that he saw this place? John (Revelations 21: 2). Are we all permitted to go to that village? No! Why not? Aren't all of us who go to prayers every Sunday Christians? No! Only those who heed his instructions (Revelations 22: 14). Furthermore, those who do will see God face to face: consult Revelations 22: 2-4; Matthew 5: 8; Hebrews 12: 14; 1 Corinthians 13: 12. May he who prepared a place for us in heaven be praised: Ephesians 1: 3.
Sing a song to God Almighty,
glorify and praise him highly,
sing, all you old and young,
sing a new song now.
This great king will be praised,
while other gods are toppled.
May all invoke him widely,
this great Maker who made all.
For a long time many have lived their lives
recklessly, not knowing him,
the Son of God who has appeared
and with His life redeemed us.
22 - Ikona na Intaba Oyaziyo? Kwezi Zimiyo Eyaka Yafuduka? Show me the mountain that packed up and left
- Nontsizi Mgqwetho
- Edited and translated by Jeff Opland
- Translated by Phyllis Ntantala, Abner Nyamende
-
- Book:
- Nation's Bounty
- Published by:
- Wits University Press
- Published online:
- 11 June 2019
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- 01 June 2007, pp 126-129
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Summary
“Come back,” mountain that left.
There are your people frantically scrabbling,
knowing full well that this country
will stand to the end of time.
Mercy, she-dove of Africa!
Distinguished elephant commanding an army
stretching from earth to the skies,
tall as an ironwood safe from the axe.
We raise our cry, saying “Come back!”
Though you disdain it, ochre suits you.
We're befuddled because we're adrift,
like plains cattle lost in the mist.
Mercy, she-dove of Africa!
Furry spider of Mthikrakra's place!
Christians still favour courtship dances,
they say “Come back” but they don't come back.
We Christians tend to see
the mote in another's eye.
Africa, today we make a forest of you
in which to conceal all our sins.
And yet even Jesus, who bore our sins,
was a man, cracked on the cross;
He was the Word, and He became flesh:
through Him we wear a crown.
What do you want of Africa?
She can't speak, she can't even hear;
she's not jealous, not vying for status;
she hasn't squandered her people's funds!
Where is this God that we worship?
The one we worship's foreign:
we kindled a fire and sparks swirled up,
swirled up a European mountain.
This is the wisdom of their God:
“Black man, prepare for the treasures of heaven
while we prepare for the treasures of Africa!”
Just as the wise men of Pharaoh's land
commanded the Jews: “Use grass to bake bricks,”
leaving them empty-handed at sunset,
so it is for us black people now:
eager at dawn, at dusk empty-handed.
So come on home! Remember your God,
a borer of holes in cracked ships,
Ancient Bone which they sucked for its marrow:
may it still yield them marrow in Africa.
So come back! Make a fresh start!
Remember the Crutch you leaned on as lepers,
let Him lead you dryshod through the Red Sea.
Food from another man's pot makes you fart.
30 - Ukutula! Ikwakukuvuma!! Silence implies consent
- Nontsizi Mgqwetho
- Edited and translated by Jeff Opland
- Translated by Phyllis Ntantala, Abner Nyamende
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- Book:
- Nation's Bounty
- Published by:
- Wits University Press
- Published online:
- 11 June 2019
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- 01 June 2007, pp 158-161
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Summary
Editor, thanks for the poets’ column.
I'm still here, a young man and no poet;
I carry the milkpail to arm-ringed celebrities;
clubs are at hand but I fight with lightning.
Editor, thanks for the poets’ column,
I'm here, still alive and no poet,
but pay heed to my words:
silence implies consent.
Editor, thanks for the poets’ column,
we can't sit silent, the country's rotten:
if I exposed the state of the country
the Christians’ jaws would drop.
Silence implies consent!
White eyes sear us on entering a church,
but we're free to worship someplace else:
it's no fun to pray looking over your shoulder.
The laws outnumber those of Moses!
They dish out your portion if you sit silent:
it's the tracks of a leopard across your yard.
If you sit silent they say you agree.
Don't smother the truth,
mouthing Christ sitting silent:
He uttered one word then held his peace,
for the hosts of heaven were ranged behind him.
Silence implies consent!
Elijah learnt that in the desert:
when invited he couldn't move,
like a river dammed with debris.
Browsing Elephant hemmed in by fences,
Africa, speak while your people yet live.
If whites have a fit, well then let them die:
they thought you a low-yielding cow.
Bless you, Africa, calf of our herd,
source of dowry for bachelors
who bask on their backs while crocs bask on their bellies,
but just wait till the sun goes down!
Laws outnumbering those of Moses
have hobbled us in bemusement:
all dusty sheep may look alike
but the shepherds can tell them apart.
Dark One of Africa, don't sit in silence,
quell your foes with a roar of defiance!
This gospel of theirs, designed to deceive us,
stands as tall as I do down on my knees.
Heed its word and heaven's lost:
it's a spear that wheels to stab us.
The hypocritical cant of the white man's gospel
turns Phalo's land on its head.
82 - Nalo Igazi! Lidyob’ Umzimba Wake!! (Good Friday) Look at his blood-flecked body (Good Friday)
- Nontsizi Mgqwetho
- Edited and translated by Jeff Opland
- Translated by Phyllis Ntantala, Abner Nyamende
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- Book:
- Nation's Bounty
- Published by:
- Wits University Press
- Published online:
- 11 June 2019
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- 01 June 2007, pp 360-363
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Summary
Oh, Jesus, what was your error?
In what trial were you tried?
What crimes did you commit
that you were lashed and loathed like this?
They left you trembling, crowned with thorns,
mocked you dripping with spit,
Elephant striving for Africa.
Christians, rain down your tears.
Call to mind the pain he suffered,
falling, at prayer in the garden,
the voice already saying “That's him,
see him, stabbed and speared.”
Look at his blood-flecked body.
Our sins have caused his torment.
I see with eyes of truth
his love is boundless, past all knowing.
We must thank this battle hero
who vanquished and humbled all enemies,
crushed death and the ancient serpent
to wipe us clean of sin.
Reed that was crushed on the cross
for Adam's sins and his family's,
show us the way to peace on earth
through your bones that rest in death.
Today, in the Book we read of you,
like a little sheep led to slaughter,
not a word did you speak as you went,
like a lamb ready for shearing.
Crush Satan, the ancient serpent,
let him die in his tracks, let hell mourn.
We make our appeal to you
for the hundreds of thousands killed in Africa.
You came for love of your people,
washed in water and the word of might,
a king of peace who carried peace,
bringing bliss to the hard of heart.
Crush this land's vile habits,
embolden the youth of our nation,
for when we reached the white man's cities
we drank the brews of foreign gods.
Crush this land's vile habits,
through your death our foes were humbled
for with love you descended from heaven
to unify heaven and earth.
Through you our tears were wiped away,
through you the sun shone down on us.
Through the blood of the Lord we are partners in heaven
and with it we smeared our doorposts.
Mercy! Awu!!
55 - Ukuba Umntu! Akakwazi!! Ukuyongamela Eyake-Indlu!!! Angatinina Ukupata Isizwe Sika Tixo? If a man can't rule his own house, how would he manage God's nation?
- Nontsizi Mgqwetho
- Edited and translated by Jeff Opland
- Translated by Phyllis Ntantala, Abner Nyamende
-
- Book:
- Nation's Bounty
- Published by:
- Wits University Press
- Published online:
- 11 June 2019
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- 01 June 2007, pp 256-259
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Summary
“Once upon a time,” say those who know.
Christians, because of the way you live
we Reds will suffer before we die:
you're Christians by day, hyenas by night.
Today we engaged; I'm not Nongqawuse
who brought Xhosa mountains crashing down.
Timothy says, “These are my words;
tell your people I'm the one talking.”
Where are the leaders the likes of Hosea
who scolded the thundering skies,
whose prayer stopped the sun in its tracks
so it shone fullface on the mountains?
If leaders behave with dignity,
women and children will too.
Timothy says: “This is me speaking.”
So says heaven on the day of wrath.
It's a shame, my people, a scandal,
a disgrace not to help your own,
with you still saying, “We're students:
who are others compared to us?”
Where are the leaders the likes of Joshua
who bore love and rose from a fall
to manage the nation of God
with poise beyond reproach?
“Today we engaged,” says Timothy.
The tree's ripped out by its roots.
You distinguish yourselves through your lust for status:
even the animals stare in amazement.
A leader's a shade-screened leopard
in all the Creator's sorrows as well,
a shade-screened leopard, dark-skinned, eternal,
watching with far-seeing eye.
Our leaders round on each other
while blacks are ringed by foes.
So where is this God we're toying with?
Your soul is in His hands.
Pas op!!
He was there before the sun;
He was there before the moon;
His greatness has no beginning;
His greatness knows no end.
Peace!!
Leaders must act with dignity:
there could be fear behind the house.
The shades say “We know you not” and depart
and we sink in the stream of despair.
The people will perish empty-handed
if a miracle doesn't come soon.
Today we locked horns. I'm not Nongqawuse
who brought Xhosa mountains crashing down.
Read the scriptures!
Notes
- Nontsizi Mgqwetho
- Edited and translated by Jeff Opland
- Translated by Phyllis Ntantala, Abner Nyamende
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- Book:
- Nation's Bounty
- Published by:
- Wits University Press
- Published online:
- 11 June 2019
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- 01 June 2007, pp 452-475
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89 - Isimbonono se Afrika!! Africa's lament!!
- Nontsizi Mgqwetho
- Edited and translated by Jeff Opland
- Translated by Phyllis Ntantala, Abner Nyamende
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- Book:
- Nation's Bounty
- Published by:
- Wits University Press
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- 11 June 2019
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- 01 June 2007, pp 388-391
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Open the door and let me in, fellow countryman, to speak about two or three things. I'm referring to you, Editor. Mercy, Africa, African moss, sipping gloom among the ripples, whose country's prosperity was extracted at the sound of a whistle, we wag our tails on seeing you. You stubbed your toe and felt the pain, a slip of the tongue and they stomped on you. Mercy, then, whose kingship is now like an ostrich, with its head in the dust confronted by your force. For a long time now we've been calling, Africa. Hear our wailing, then, Africa, Garden of Africa. Your crop was consumed and scattered by birds, but you stood firm and never left us. Our voices are hoarse from imploring you; we criss-crossed the land calling for you; we came back there without tongues. We raised wailings calling to you, cheeks chafed from crying. All the earth's nations profit from you, they come from the north, they come from the south, from the east and from the west. Quiet! Quiet, poet of ours, stop stretching your legs out. Let me interrupt you before you're finished extracting the bile. Africa stayed still! She's nowhere else: look how the grass continues to sprout. Look at the springs still bubbling with water. Look everywhere, all's as it should be! Show me the mountain that packed up and walked. No! You're scratching your head—who are you to wail? You must come back. Because as I see it, you have all the signs that mark a person as dumb. Please seek the seers to tell you straight what the ancient of days divines (a whole volume!), lest rain fall some place else and plagues take your family. Raise dust then till you're dirty, dark one of Africa, like Moses quitting Egypt.
Bring to mind the days of our fathers:
they used grass skirts when they couldn't go out,
but you herded them like David
on the mountain slopes of Gilead.
A long time ago the word reached Ntsikana.
I lost the thread: who doesn't know?
We shunned our customs, accusing Africa,
and turned into long-tailed birds.
Think about it!
4 - Imbongikazi No “Abantu-Batho” The woman poet and Abantu-Batho
- Nontsizi Mgqwetho
- Edited and translated by Jeff Opland
- Translated by Phyllis Ntantala, Abner Nyamende
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- Book:
- Nation's Bounty
- Published by:
- Wits University Press
- Published online:
- 11 June 2019
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- 01 June 2007, pp 24-29
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Maxeke's split! And the woman poet joined you!
“Timbilili!” says the sleeper,
suddenly wakened.
“Timbilili!” says the marsh bird,
drenched in rain.
Hawulele! Mvabaza,
the blanket of Congress
has often been rolled up;
today it's unfurled again.
Mvabaza, I've long had my eye on you,
cow yielding dribbles of milk
lacking the strength
to reach the milksack.
Hawulele! Hule!
Abantu-Batho,
you thought you'd retain
the title of guardian.
Umteteli wa Bantu
saw right through you:
you're a sack without water
left to breed tadpoles.
Our people are spent,
urged over the edge,
lacking healers
to administer cures.
The woman poet joined you?
Where did we talk?
In that paper of yours
I'd be torn in the jaws of a lion.
I know you well, Mvabaza:
you shun the day,
prefering the moon
as travelling companion.
Reader, take note!
The woman poet joined you?
Mvabaza, plain Xhosa eludes you:
please reread my poem
on the split within Congress:
“Tramps’ ancestors
are no match for mine.”
Just what do you think
I meant by those words?
You tremble, Mvabaza, like jelly
served on a plate;
a Joburg Johnny-come-lately,
an overnight leader.
You're no leader, Mvabaza,
and you never will be,
all you can claim
is the status of shopkeeper.
Leave Reverend Maxeke alone:
It was God who founded that paper
seeing our people wasted,
urged over the edge.
When did you win
election to rule?
We still have our chiefs
established by God.
Mvabaza, you're blind
to God's creation,
wanting me woman poet
of your Abantu-Batho.
You brag that you brought
the woman poet from Peddie
to earn your bread
in Johannesburg!
That'll be the day!
We stumbled in starting.
We seek a ford.
Our people are wasted,
urged over the edge.
Hawuleleh! Huleh! From Jeppe
they urge us over the edge,
they egg on the troops
but stay home themselves.
How come these leaders
never get killed?
They send to their deaths
God's people and chiefs.
They're Bailey's agents.
In urging us over the edge
they're sinking Africa.
I chant this dancing
near my father's grave.
Hawuhule!
87 - U-Yehova Uyasivana? Does Jehovah hear us?
- Nontsizi Mgqwetho
- Edited and translated by Jeff Opland
- Translated by Phyllis Ntantala, Abner Nyamende
-
- Book:
- Nation's Bounty
- Published by:
- Wits University Press
- Published online:
- 11 June 2019
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- 01 June 2007, pp 380-383
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Jehovah has wrapped himself with a cloud, so that none of our prayers can pass through. He made us the sweepings to be discarded among other nations. All our enemies gaped at us with their mouths. Hear, then, the reason for it all.
Editor, thanks for the poets’ column.
I'm here, still alive and no poet;
I carry the milkpail across the Orange;
I look old with a beard like Hili.
Thus the small voice of Lamentations
saying “Jehovah, can you hear?”
Jehovah says in response:
“I've been quiet for days, until yesterday.
You've been weighed and found to be wanting.”
The Ancient Creator's voice struck home.
The fingers’ inscription proclaims
your kingdom's been taken, handed to others.
Go back to where you came from,
to Ntsikana's final words.
Don't bargain with the truth:
this cash led us astray.
Christians, where are your bibles today?
I'd better stop, so I don't lose control.
Maqoma said so, and they called him mad
for spurning the madness of surrender.
What must we make of these marriages?
Wed and split in a day: where's this from?
We sit on the fence, won't take a stand,
the walking dead unfamiliar to God.
We make a big thing of this schooling:
and this culture we eagerly hound.
We pinned our hopes on a miracle:
some died with nothing to show for it.
We bear envy and blame one another;
God leaves as we claw at each other.
Today, we've lost ourselves,
our leaders all sit mum.
All our customs were lost to the whites,
we took separate paths to the cells.
The old voice said, “You're dying, Africa.”
The gainsayers countered: “How can she die?”
All our thieves are in school,
all our witches in school,
all our liars in school:
which is the One on High to believe?
Will the Reds ever be Christian?
We pose as just, so they waver.
And what then of our parents?
We just left them shut in their homes.
We gave up polygamy; today we take lovers;
we gave up ochre, but now we're all drunk.
Hear what I say, Greybeard of ours,
those are the headings in our discussion.
The word of God's the very truth
but we've treated it inconsistently.
We perish for lack of diviners
as if every home housed a witch.
Mercy!!
32 - Kuguzulwa Okumkani! Kumiswe Okumkani!! The king is dead! Long live the king!
- Nontsizi Mgqwetho
- Edited and translated by Jeff Opland
- Translated by Phyllis Ntantala, Abner Nyamende
-
- Book:
- Nation's Bounty
- Published by:
- Wits University Press
- Published online:
- 11 June 2019
- Print publication:
- 01 June 2007, pp 166-169
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Summary
In South Africa the buffalo roused,
whose goring's feared before it gores;
the late riser misses everything,
misses the python uncoiling.
What does Daniel the prophet say
to King Nebuchadnezzar?
Read from Chapter Two
through to Chapter Six.
Jehovah removes kings
setting others in their place
with no thought of worth:
wondrous His works.
Thus Daniel the prophet,
and in this I concur:
kings ruling over us go,
others take their place.
This is it: God in Heaven controls
royalty in every nation,
grants it to whom he likes,
even to casual passers-by.
He alone created all,
asking no one's leave:
our low station's of his making,
he raised up those at the top.
Kings ruling over us go,
others take their place;
and Africa, you will meet him,
return to times you cry for.
Note the motion of sun and moon,
the bonds once foretold by Ntsikana,
oppression that crawled on its knees,
casting spells right to the Mpondo.
Oppression was touted by glittering scriptures
that taught us to cast off our blankets,
intent on unloading on us an elephant
that devours our king's domains.
Wake up, Africa! Come together!
Only a fool wrings his hands.
Mutton Gluttons sleep with open eyes.
Timber! Yellowwood forests tumble.
God alone is worth remembering.
Something twisted can't be straightened:
this new regime holds nothing new,
the present's no change from the past.
We yielded sovereignty to no purpose,
embraced the new, and lost our own:
our homes and our kingship were plundered.
Our eyes beheld, our ears perceived.
Nongqawuse, Mhlakaza's daughter,
you said: “Keep your eyes on the ocean,
you'll hear the bellowing bulls.”
Our fathers’ possessions crumbled to dust.
64 - Vumani! Siyavuma!! “Agree!” “Agreed!!”
- Nontsizi Mgqwetho
- Edited and translated by Jeff Opland
- Translated by Phyllis Ntantala, Abner Nyamende
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- Book:
- Nation's Bounty
- Published by:
- Wits University Press
- Published online:
- 11 June 2019
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- 01 June 2007, pp 292-295
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If you should ever turn your backs on Jehovah and worship another land's gods, He will wheel and harm you: Agreed!
There Joshua's telling us:
spurn strange gods on pain of death.
We toyed with God while whites looked on:
today our country's affliction itself.
Agreed!
Ah, the sorrow that siezes your land, Nontsizi,
all the things that bring us grief,
recalling our old Mgqwetho kin
wrapped in blankets of skin.
Agree!
Let yesterday's customs perish:
those gods ripped out our hearts,
and so we don't know who we are
and all our chiefs sit mum.
Agreed!
Today droves of black people
have long abandoned their customs:
they banished them from their homes
in the heat of the summer sun.
Agreed!
You see, my people, we're old,
truth threw us long ago;
my people, we need to be planted and watered
to bring forth the spirit of nationhood.
Agreed!
Agree, herders of Sandile's cattle,
of Mshweshwe and Langalibalele,
mimosas that twisted in falling!
That rising sun made me think of Shaka.
Peace, Africa, strife-torn land!
There's little indeed we can take for the truth.
Nitpicking poets, I say,
ignore the grain that pecks the chicken.
All of you know what's going on:
you're patently ringed by lies.
Let's seek the truth from those above,
who died both here and in the water.
There is Joshua telling us
to spurn strange gods on pain of death.
Where are the customs of our land,
transmitted to us through the ages?
Agree with me, men! Peace to you, ladies,
and let those who feel bad for you hang themselves.
Oh, we're covered with chaff from the threshing-floor!
We cast off our customs, went in search of a wife.
Let's remember the days of our fathers,
seal Tshiwo's deserted villages,
which sprawled up the hillside slopes
like the flocks on Mount Hermon.
So back, my people, and watch.
All creatures will come out to bask in the sun.
Agree with me! Yes, in truth we agree.
And You, who scolds the thundering skies.
Agree indeed!
52 - Inyikima e Rautini! Gqala esase Sodom!! Joburg earthquake: remember Sodom
- Nontsizi Mgqwetho
- Edited and translated by Jeff Opland
- Translated by Phyllis Ntantala, Abner Nyamende
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- Book:
- Nation's Bounty
- Published by:
- Wits University Press
- Published online:
- 11 June 2019
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- 01 June 2007, pp 244-247
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Editor, thanks for the poets’ column!
I'm still here, a young man and no poet;
I carry the milkpail across the Orange,
clubs are at hand but I fight with lightning.
The earthquake spoke, spoke in broad daylight,
it spoke while we played, revealing its hand,
it spoke and left the white people stunned,
it left the Coolies wringing their hands.
The earthquake spoke with an eerie wail
while people's pleasure raised a racket.
The world's given to pleasure, ancient temptress,
recalling the world in days gone by.
The errant city surrendered to pleasure,
everyone sapped until their eyes popped.
Satan sings praises till his guts bust
at you Christians and us Reds.
The world's given to pleasure, a puzzling problem,
astonishing things happen here in Johannesburg,
rampant booze-ups and live-in lovers:
I've never seen booze so abused!!
Locusts are spreading among our youngsters,
gangsters are spreading throughout our land.
Look to this learning we boast about
and this culture we eagerly hound.
I slap your face to provoke discussion;
I fight with lightning, working magic.
Nothing's left. The thieves are there:
my words will kill if I expose you.
We live with God and Satan both:
which to take? The One Above.
We sit on the fence, won't take a stand,
the walking dead unfamiliar to God.
The dove of the marshes of Mara tells you:
today's like Sodom and Gomorrah again.
The mission stations of God lie waste,
abandoned by priests: we're bewitched.
You've been weighed and you're found wanting.
Look at the earthquake today. Stay awake!
All our customs were lost to the whites
when we turned our backs on the gods of our home.
Stop asking questions! Look at the earthquake!
Heathen habits are rampant.
Ah, black people, the land is sinking.
We're standing barren, bereft of dignity.
That being the case, my people,
let's return to our wonted ways
remembering Sodom and Gomorrah.
The dove of the marshes of Mara says so.
Peace!!
66 - Mazibhange! Izikumbuzo Ezingenalo u Manyano Stop the divisive commemorations
- Nontsizi Mgqwetho
- Edited and translated by Jeff Opland
- Translated by Phyllis Ntantala, Abner Nyamende
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- Book:
- Nation's Bounty
- Published by:
- Wits University Press
- Published online:
- 11 June 2019
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- 01 June 2007, pp 300-303
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We just don't have time to fumble in fog: consult Isaiah 19: 18.
On that day, five of the houses of the land of Egypt will speak in the Canaanite language and swear only by Jehovah of the hosts. And Canaan is the home of blacks everywhere. There is no Jehovah of Ntsikana alone or of the Mfengu alone. Oh, no! There is only the Jehovah of all the black nations under the sun, united, commemorating the same thing and crying as one: so clap your hands!
Editor, thanks for the poets’ column,
I'm still here, a young man and no poet;
I was born yesterday over the Orange,
I look old with a beard, like Hili.
The truth is there in the scriptures
and also within our blankets.
How do you live in constant strife,
in ignorance and conceit?
We bark for you, my people,
confronting those who pick us clean.
Unity's our only strength,
it alone can nourish us.
Isaiah says: “Come all of you,”
all the blacks are invited,
Zulu, Xhosa, Suthu, Mfengu,
all are the same despite distinctions.
Jehovah is not Ntsikana's alone,
Jehovah is not the Mfengu's alone.
Why do we act like Hottentots,
snoring their heads off, arse in the air?
Let's stop the commemorations:
their rifts rip out our hearts.
Inspire the country with your words.
Was ever her country in such a state?
Jehovah is not Ntsikana's alone,
Jehovah is not the Mfengu's alone.
We don't have time to fumble in fog.
Oh I blundered in going to whites!
This Unity's a shade-screened leopard
in all the Creator's sorrows as well,
all enemies will be crushed by it,
the mercies of heaven yield to it.
And so be one and sing one song
with your compatriot Die-As-One.
Isaiah says: “These are my words;
tell your people I'm the one talking.”
We split into factions, betray our own people,
and Africa leaves as we claw at each other.
We'd be all at sea if we ruled ourselves:
our cry for self-rule is vapid!
Peace, Africa, Army whose warriors stab one another!
They rip each other but reassemble.
Pulling in different directions,
these spans will smash their legs.
47 - Amaqaba! Pulapula Reds! Listen
- Nontsizi Mgqwetho
- Edited and translated by Jeff Opland
- Translated by Phyllis Ntantala, Abner Nyamende
-
- Book:
- Nation's Bounty
- Published by:
- Wits University Press
- Published online:
- 11 June 2019
- Print publication:
- 01 June 2007, pp 224-227
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Summary
Editor, thanks for the poets’ column.
I'm still here, a young man and no poet;
I carry the milkpail to arm-ringed celebrities;
let all Christians glance behind them.
Editor, thanks for the poets’ column.
I'm here, still alive and no poet.
You'd better believe I'm still a Red:
tell your people I'm the one talking.
Christians call us heathens
but every home's unstable.
When the Word appeared we were together,
but you chased the whites to join them.
Ngqika himself broke away,
cheeks chafed from his lies.
Christians, because of your school education
you're Christians by day, hyenas by night.
Just like always, we Reds come together,
sitting here, swapping news.
We never enter your meetings,
where the mood is so hostile to Reds.
Here I sit, to be sure, just like always,
tell your people I'm the one talking.
I'm someone of consequence; I spoke at my birth:
in the courtyard princes stamped and frolicked.
We Reds have made a statement,
preferring charges against you;
today we've come, we'll do this for you,
for we were born at the setting sun.
I'll give you advice though I don't know much:
for a long time you claimed to know everything.
Your milk's all dried up, you've none for your coffee,
that's my opinion, a Red among Reds.
Celebration began before fighting ceased:
the sun gasped in amazement.
When we Reds stood slackjawed,
you didn't mark our threadbare blankets.
Today your voice is drowned in a whirlwind,
Christians, your learning's down in the dust,
all because of this pride of yours:
can a seasoned debater dispute this?
You're past any help; you make us puke:
you use us as kindling to warm yourselves.
That's what we say, we girls who smear ochre;
we'd rather die than dispute you.
Does no one remind you, Christian,
that you were made by the word?
While you're wasting time, Moses will come
to clear the path you still can't tread.
Peace!!
56 - Hosanna!! Melkizedek!!! (Xmas) Hosanna! Melchizedek!! (Xmas)
- Nontsizi Mgqwetho
- Edited and translated by Jeff Opland
- Translated by Phyllis Ntantala, Abner Nyamende
-
- Book:
- Nation's Bounty
- Published by:
- Wits University Press
- Published online:
- 11 June 2019
- Print publication:
- 01 June 2007, pp 260-263
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Summary
What now, Death, great python?
The One on High laid you low today;
through Adam we once were forsaken,
but today we're saved through Jesus.
Peace!!
So all of you come, come today!
Don't be timid, we're all invited.
The feast of grace is laid for us,
so come, let's eat, and live.
All races invited, no one barred:
Hosanna means all are welcome,
men and women, children, all:
the Lord invites every nation.
Come, you crushed by the weight of sin,
you poor, you frail, you blind and lame,
come and rest, you aimless tramps,
come let Jesus care for you.
Today, today, don't hesitate
over the Lord's invitation.
Hosanna to Him, heaven-mellowed.
Roar, angels with feathers of gold.
Hell can hang its head in shame:
a star has risen in battledress.
It's Jesus: honour him joyfully,
laud him with heartfelt songs.
Hosanna indeed!
Swell your hymns of praise,
thud your sounding drums,
see him with eyes of faith
and sink in awe to your knees.
Hosanna!
Rejoice today and sing in bliss,
heavenly messengers join in the chorus.
Rejoice, for Christ the Lord is born
to lift from us the load of the pass.
He's Melchizedek without beginning,
he's Melchizedek without end.
He mapped the country's corners
and he'll reign above all powers.
In September the wild beast bleated,
laid the corpses on the ground;
they departed for His home,
today our homes are filled with tears.
Peace to you all!
Let our wishes cleave the heavens
to reach you, Elephant browsing the tops,
don't let their deaths raid our hope,
draw us to them filled with hope.
Peace!
Who would know that greatness in you,
Maker of heaven and earth,
in you who made the stars and moon,
in you who made the sun and day?
In long ages past the earth was fashioned,
in long ages past were people created,
truly the maker of heaven and earth
existed for age upon age.
Today we should be terror-stricken
at all these horrors we encounter,
announcing the Creator's renown to men,
telling us always to keep God in mind.
Hosanna!!
9 - Unyikimo Lomhlaba-E-Rautini Johannesburg earthquake
- Nontsizi Mgqwetho
- Edited and translated by Jeff Opland
- Translated by Phyllis Ntantala, Abner Nyamende
-
- Book:
- Nation's Bounty
- Published by:
- Wits University Press
- Published online:
- 11 June 2019
- Print publication:
- 01 June 2007, pp 54-57
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Summary
Lord, you alone created all things,
you said let them be and they were;
earthquakes occur by your will,
you arrange their trembling;
mountains stand by your will
to crush us if we deny you.
Peace!
You rain floods on our dwellings,
scourge us with whirlwinds to bring us to know you.
Peace!
This earthquake's your sign of future destruction
if we don't repair our ways.
Listen, Joburg: if you deny me
you'll burn like paper in storm after storm.
Mercy!
Don't you see what this is, my people,
this thrashing quirt of an earthquake?
In this quake Jehovah addresses us,
distressed, a Creator abandoned.
Earthquake, slow in approach,
older than even the sun!
Earthquake, the voice of Jehovah,
urging return to virtue!
Earthquake, tumbling anthills;
oh! the nation's mountains turn to each other!
Earthquake, the voice of Jehovah,
releasing springs for you to drink,
cracking a whip when you spurn him:
you'll die like flies if you don't all come back to him!
Mercy!
Take care, Joburg, you will be consumed
by the rager like fire on the move.
Earthquake, a knock at your door,
condemning your sins to correct you.
Mercy!
Do you heed this earthquake here in Johannesburg?
It whips fear into those who know.
Joburg, watch out when its blow seals your fate:
your Sodom and Gomorrah sink as you throttle Jehovah.
Under the soil lie treasures:
white elders are quick to break contracts.
Peace!
Take care, Joburg: an earthquake buries you.
Peace, sturdy child of farflung Africa, can you hear this earthquake's
wailing?
Take care, Joburg, there it is:
a quake with a black club threatens you,
a wild beast awaiting your move,
sinners its only prey.
Earthquake, the hand of Jehovah,
knocking at your door!
18 - Umpanga! ka Rev BS Mazwi The loss of Rev BS Mazwi
- Nontsizi Mgqwetho
- Edited and translated by Jeff Opland
- Translated by Phyllis Ntantala, Abner Nyamende
-
- Book:
- Nation's Bounty
- Published by:
- Wits University Press
- Published online:
- 11 June 2019
- Print publication:
- 01 June 2007, pp 106-111
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Summary
Hallelujah, the Moravians
approach you today in tears,
Massive Pillar of Bethlehem,
divine Diviner of troubles.
You raised your cry at the Mazwi home,
removed its central pillar,
made orphans of the family.
Mercy then, pool-screened Crocodile.
Lion of Africans’ city,
Lion of Africa's city,
comfort the Mazwi children.
Oh, St Michael, stop them scrapping!
When you take the breath from people
and they die,
fix our minds
on the kingdom of heaven.
We all called this pastor father,
the late B.S. Mazwi:
he held limitless love,
one heart for all.
On his shoulders he bore the burdens
of youngsters far and wide;
he gave them comfort, put them at ease,
they confided their troubles to him.
Death, your heart is cold,
you can't be coaxed;
you can't be moved
by torrents of tears.
Peace! Pastor Mazwi, kneeling for hours
painfully praying for Africa;
you proclaim the news from heaven
for the wayward of this land.
We called your life to mind:
before the word came we wore grass skirts,
then you preached and we wasted our foes,
laid them low with conquering kieries.
Mercy, Pastor Mazwi!
Moravian who broadcast the gospel:
the walls of the house resounded,
killers returned to the fold.
Mercy, Pastor Mazwi!
You preached the gospel, they turned to listen,
Elephant striving for Africa.
The commando's horse has lost its way.
You took him from us, Lord of creatures,
gently removed your servant;
prophets heard from shepherds
as angels bore him to you. Peace!
Mercy, Pastor Mazwi!
Your prayer attracted all;
and, Father, your onetime mockers
now perceived your glory.
Walk with pride in Paradise,
mighty stalwart of Africa.
create a commotion in heaven,
thrash all the creatures of hell.
Son of Mazwi, Gabriel's called you.
Go! Confer with the sages.
May your bones be at peace in death,
roar through Africa, bringing the Light.
Walk with pride in Paradise,
mighty stalwart of Africa.
Blessed are those who die in the Lord
but hell is wracked by duststorms.
Walk with pride in Paradise,
mighty stalwart of Africa:
when you get there hell will blink
and shaggy-eared Satan will take to his heels.
40 - Saxulutywa!—Ngamatye Omsebenzi!! Our efforts stone us!
- Nontsizi Mgqwetho
- Edited and translated by Jeff Opland
- Translated by Phyllis Ntantala, Abner Nyamende
-
- Book:
- Nation's Bounty
- Published by:
- Wits University Press
- Published online:
- 11 June 2019
- Print publication:
- 01 June 2007, pp 196-199
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Summary
Look! I want you to understand
our misfortune today, compatriot:
we're amazed they compare achievements!
Won't you stop vying for status?
May the dumb speak in Africa!
The dumb spoke in Decapolis,
the eyes of the blind were opened in Jericho:
may our blind regain their sight today.
May leaders emerge in Africa,
stop living on bones and scraps
and cry out here at the prospect
of Africa's children arrayed in rank.
My people, there's pain in the truth:
this regime controls our lives today.
It thrashed us through trust in the scriptures,
saying “Lay your blankets aside!”
See all those killers and thieves:
what I exposed knocked you flat.
You were stoned by strangers
who splash in the Jordan without crossing over.
The truth must be treated fairly,
the truth must be heard by both sides:
the truth is there in the scriptures
and also within our blankets.
May our leaders see eye to eye,
stop putting each other down:
efforts not weapons win battles.
Tell me, fellow, what you are doing.
Day after day you ask for donations.
To what end? Please tell me, fellow.
Our silver-tongued speeches droned on and on,
dulled our senses, set us snoring.
While Jehovah opens his arms to us,
while Jehovah beckons us close to him!
This is the point: you were made by the word,
so we'll learn of your efforts on judgement day.
Peace!
Efforts not weapons win battles:
stop vying for status today.
Aren't you afraid that you stripped the nation,
left it naked with only its hands for cover?
Unity's our only strength,
it alone can nourish us:
all enemies will be crushed by it,
and the pillars of heaven shattered.
How long must we keep on repeating:
the dumb spoke in Decapolis,
the eyes of the blind were opened in Jericho:
may our blind regain their sight today.
Peace to you! Heavens!
36 - Imimiselo ye Zizwe! Iwugqwetile Lomhlaba ka Palo! Foreign laws have upended this land of Phalo!
- Nontsizi Mgqwetho
- Edited and translated by Jeff Opland
- Translated by Phyllis Ntantala, Abner Nyamende
-
- Book:
- Nation's Bounty
- Published by:
- Wits University Press
- Published online:
- 11 June 2019
- Print publication:
- 01 June 2007, pp 182-183
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Summary
Thank you, Editor, for the poets’ column. We can't keep quiet. The party's fine, except for the smoke. What's happened to us? We're still just white as snow! Cast your eyes on Leviticus, chapter 18, verses one to five. Keep your country's laws and customs: those are your life-giving God. Mercy, Africa! African moss, sipping in ripples of gloom. The riches of your country were dug to the sound of a whistle. Our tails wag when we catch sight of you. You stubbed your toe and felt the pain, a slip of the tongue and they stomped on you. Mercy! your kingship's now like an ostrich, with its head buried in the dust. Oh! Two bad Xhosa things slapped against each other when you swayed from side to side. Mercy, Africa! Garden of Africa, your crop was consumed and scattered by birds. Mercy, Africa! African she-dove, spiders who once clung to you will spin your home to a cliff and leave it for European orphans; yet you took not one thing from the whites. Africa, wail in a mountain cave: foreign customs have upended this land of Phalo, African mimosa, twisting in falling, branches yet reaching out to foreign nations. Spotted leopard because of those nations, who distrust us, and warn one another. Where are the priests, who came to teach us, saying: “I'm just a stranger on earth: I'm on my way to Heaven. I long passionately for the heavenly Jerusalem.” But what they really meant was that they were just strangers overseas: they were on their way to Africa: they longed passionately for the wealth of that country. And you, Africa, sang those songs, you cursed yourself before Jehovah. Today you need clothes: you're chased off while ploughing. In the end you're just a stranger on earth. You must know this: when will you get to Heaven? Look, young men! I'll be blunt: foreign laws have upended this land of Phalo. Mercy, Africa, strife-torn land! Please low like an old cow as well as a calf—that's why we cry out saying “Let it come back”—and induce birth pangs in our people. We began to dress up before the fight ended.
77 - Hosanna! Cibi Elino Mnqwazi Ngapezulu!! (Xmas) Hosanna, Lake with a bonnet on top! (Xmas)
- Nontsizi Mgqwetho
- Edited and translated by Jeff Opland
- Translated by Phyllis Ntantala, Abner Nyamende
-
- Book:
- Nation's Bounty
- Published by:
- Wits University Press
- Published online:
- 11 June 2019
- Print publication:
- 01 June 2007, pp 340-343
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Summary
I'll roar returning to where I began,
I came when they said I'd come,
babes at the breast even swear by me,
kings prance and stamp in the yards.
What now, Death, great python?
The One on High laid you low today.
Through Adam we once were forsaken,
but today we're saved through Jesus.
Come today; come all of you,
don't be afraid; we're all welcome,
Zulu, Xhosa, Sotho, Mfengu,
all are the same despite distinctions.
Hosanna means all are welcome,
all are invited, no one barred.
The feast of the Babe is laid for us,
so come, let's eat, and live.
Come, you crushed by the weight of sin,
you poor, you frail, you blind and lame,
come and rest, you aimless tramps,
come let Jesus care for you.
Hell can hang its head in shame:
a star has risen in battledress.
It's Jesus: honour him joyfully,
laud him with heartfelt songs.
Swell your hymns of praise,
thud your sounding drums,
see him with eyes of faith
and sink in awe to your knees.
Rejoice that Christ the king is born,
through him may our kings arise.
Hosanna to the One with a bonnet on top.
Roar, angels with feathers of gold.
In September the wild beast bleated,
laid the corpses on the ground;
they departed for His home,
today our homes are filled with tears.
Who would know that greatness in you,
Maker of heaven and earth,
in you who made the stars and moon,
in you who made the sun and day?
In long ages past the earth was fashioned,
in long ages past were people created,
truly the maker of heaven and earth
existed for age upon age.
Today we should be terror-stricken
at all these horrors we meet,
announcing the Creator's renown to men,
telling us always to keep God in mind.
Hosanna!!!