So its heritage day... never exactly knew what we were celebrating today... culture , tradition or roots.... until somebody said it in Swati... Imvelaphi.... which are roots...
Guess I've always appreciated the Africanness of South Africans..... those things you'd never find an American doing... hayi emadloti but like the shangaan dancing, the house painting and alles..
People often go on the 'if you dont ken where your from, you wont know where your going'... so i guess His-tree is all about the roots...the seed first planted...andazi if i'm making sense...all i know is that its important to know kutsi uvelaphi... those stories cant end... know your clan praises and teach others... understand where they originated and why...
I'm not on my usual rant until its long enough stance today coz its Herit-age manje... So i guess to commemorate it I'll just slaat 'n ou poem and hope you consider it pure joy....
From the swig of your veg looking cup,
I find a bitter strength even in the way you ferment, up
in the sky, the sun seems to be undone with you
gold brown dusted sheets that we call skin in view
that messy throng of black nettles that could hide all global secrets crowns you
the very ground you beat with heavy burdened feet, adores you
produces the life and soul of the soup you serve still you pursue
better lands that will bend themselves in soil and be true
yielding all they could, in salt water sweat and toil to bear anew
and better yet to produce of your wives the bottl'ar view
strength beating about the grounds in a rhythm that grips
the world as that carriage of good load dips,
directions etched by the sway of your hips
from afar the world pants to hear of the wisdom of the whisper of your lips
and in silence, you womb quips
Mothers come to you for what they term nursing tips
Even in your wrong,
Your shoulders are strong,
Carrying hope unilaterally throughout the minds of time in song
you, listen filter and emancipate the clashing gong
And yet you are fierce when enraged
The liberation calls to you, caged
and you plant peace tree tea's, when blood has been waged
But still it is your drum that soothes nations
parts and echo's back forlorn generations
It defies all limitations
Setting pathways home with fruitful plantations
And when you dance the moon stitches symphonies
Igniting truth, dignity and freedom into heartfelt harmonies
Which blot out all past, present and future soliloquies
In unity the people reach deep into odysseys
Triumph over all hypocrisies
Still you allow, hunger to entice you
watching for patches of material you made to match your hue
Having ID crisis's when Home affairs have told you
You are of colour,patterns, free frolicks and morning dew
of water, nature and shrubbery that naturally cares for you
You are of age old foragers and kings and queens, take your cue
Still you allow hunger to entice you...
When you wake to peaked horizons, thoughts of failure and the beating sun
Mama Heritages ponders....Iphi imvelaphi yakho Mntanami?...Where are you rooted Son?
Happy..(if that's what they say vandag)...Heritage day....
Consider it pure joy....
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