Poetry

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Heart’s Desire

August being women’s month in South Africa, I decided to (re)engage with the question: am I a woman? In the biologically sense, I am a woman; there is no doubt about the matter! However, from the cultural perspective this is debatable. In my mind, it seems marriage and/or motherhood are the only determinants of womanhood. And since I am neither, I am making the most of my situation with a healthy degree of disdain (to bring just an ounce of envy into my life 🙂 ). This is indeed what inspired the poem below:

Ba re: ke lefetoa,
Ke lehana puso.
Ha ke tsoa ka lehlafi,
Ha ke arabe lipotso.
Ke ea ha pelo-ea-rata.
Ha ke khutla,
Ha ke tenoe ka lipotso.
Hoba moo ke tsoang,
Ke ha pelo-ea-rata!

‘Na ke re: ebang balekane,
Eseng ba salang!
Hoba ha pelo-ea-rata,
‘Musi ke pelo;
‘Moloki oa thabo le khotso!

A close to literal ranslation of the above is as follows:

They say: I am one passed over 1
For I refuse governance.
When I walk out of the door,
I answer no questions,
I go to where my heart desires.
When I come back,
I am bothered by no questions.
Because where I come from,
Is where my heart desires!

My response is: be partners,
As opposed to those left behind!2
Because where the heart desires,
The governor is the heart;
The protector of hapiness and peace!

  1. As in: I have been passed over for marriage ↩
  2. To unpack this statement, one needs to briefly explain the construction of the words ‘molekane’ (partner) and ‘mosali’ (woman) in Sesotho. Molekane is derived from the word ‘lekana’, which means equal. ‘Mosali’, controversial as this may be, is derived from the word ‘sala’, which means remain (or be left). I know some may argue why ‘mosali’ as opposed to ‘mosala’? For this, my response is: Sesotho is a language that operates in the subtle and overt modes. In the former mode, guided by reasons that range from respect to diplomacy, construction of words is based on the art of distortion. Of course, there are instances where the distortion might have been purely motivated by a sense of economics (i.e. to shorten things a bit); for example, it is much more economical to refer to maja-a-ikana (those who plead their allegiance as/before they eat i.e. “pray”) as majakane just to quickly convey a message. This said, the simple point I am trying to make is that the word ‘mosali’ embodies a degree of distortion but one that was intended to show respect for the role of the traditional woman in staying behind to look after the children. ↩
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Africa, my Africa!

“A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence stops” — Henry Adams

Today, I am taken back in time, to ntate Oliphant’s class, when I was half my age. He is reciting the poem, Africa by David Diop. As he recites this poem, his voice is heavy, reverent and amazingly captivating; its almost like it is the first time I have ever had him speak but it isn’t! It is merely the first time that I am awakened and connected to my identity. I am awaken to what it means to be an African and challenges that lie ahead in order for Africans to stand tall and not with their backs bent!

Ntate Oliphant, thank you for reciting this poem as you did:

Africa, my Africa
Africa of proud warriors in ancestral Savannahs …
I have never known you
But your blood flows in my veins …
Africa, tell me Africa
Is this you, this back that is bent
This back that breaks
Under the weight of humiliation
This back trembling with red scars
And saying yes to the whip under the midday sun? (ll. 1-2, 5-6, 11-16)

Happy Africa day to all! May we all continue in small ways to work towards an Africa that is peaceful, prosperous and democratic. Mayibuye iAfrica!

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Came for a Reason

Africa without any boundaries is my home. However, once in a little while I meet someone who makes me question whether South Africa is my home.

South Africa is my temporary domicile (until my studies are complete). As a proud Lesotho citizen, I have all the intentions to go back home and when that time comes, no one will have the benefit of saying to me: “khomo, boela hae u holile”. This literally translates to: “cow, go home you have grown”.

In the meantime, to anyone who is intent on making me feel like this is not my home, I came here for a reason. My reason is not to play a game like morabaraba (a strategy driven board game); my reason is to get a dose of knowledge. So please listen to my plea (captured poetically below) and let me be!

Moleko, tloha ho ‘na!
Ha ke ea tla morabarabeng.
Ke tlile ngakeng:
Ke tlisitse sebono eteng.
Ha ke ne ke tlile morabarabeng,
Ke ne ke tlare:itekanye mesikaro!
Ke namane e ts’ehla;
Motho a ka thiba ka ‘m’ae,
Kapa a thiba ka monoana!

Moleko, haeba o na le litsebe, libule,
Haeba o na le mahlo, le oona a bule,
Le kelello haeba e teng, e sebelise!
Hoba ke namane e ts’ehla;
Ha ke rore feela, ke ea loana!

Translation of the above, without getting into the depth of the language is as follows:

Evil one, get away from me!
I didn’t come here for morabaraba.
I came for the doctor:
For my arse to be injected.
If I had come for morabaraba,
I would say to you: weigh your “capabilities”!
I am a yellow calf; 1
A person could defend with their mother, 2
or defend with their finger!

Evil one, if you have ears, open them;
If you have eyes, have them open as well;
And if you have a brain, use it!
For I am a yellow calf;
I don’t just roar, I can fight!

The bold part of the translation is arguably inaccurate. Doctor is ngaka in Sesotho. Ngakeng refers to any place that a doctor practices his/her craft e.g. hospital or sangoma’s chambers. People go to these places to see doctors; hence, my translation. Actually, to be exact, they go there for cure. Just to be indulgent, in the above context, the disease that needs cure can be regarded as either poverty or ignorance. Its all a matter of interpretation!

  1. Yellow calf is a term of endearment for a lion/lioness. ↩
  2. The potency of this statement is lost in translation. ↩