A peaceful Sunday morning turned chaotic for Azizi as he was brought to the emergency room. He was in agony, bleeding, and had huge bite marks on him, mostly on his arms and legs. He claimed it was a Boerboel that attacked him, but the doctors doubted the validity of his story due to the size of the wounds.
Meanwhile, the police received an anonymous tip suggesting that a wild animal might be on the loose in the city after having bitten someone. The tipster provided the police with the address of an apartment in Langa, Cape Town. Upon arrival, the police heard a menacing growl coming from inside through the front door. Eager to investigate, they made their way to the apartment next door, grabbed a drill, and started making tiny holes in the wall to peek inside. To their shock, they were met with the unexpected sight of a 200-kilogram African lion lounging in the Langa apartment. The pressing question was: How on earth did the king of the jungle end up there?
Back to Azizi, a 31-year-old part-time driver for a ride-sharing company who had a strong love for animals. He went to the extent of illegally acquiring an infant Cape baboon and a lion cub from an exotic animal trainer in Cape Town and bringing them to live with him in his government-subsidised apartment in Langa. Azizi already had a ball python named Sly living with him in his apartment, and now he also has a Cape baboon and a lion. What could possibly go wrong?
When Azizi acquired the Cape baboon, it was unwell, leading to a short life span. Sadly, the baboon passed away shortly after, but the lion cub survived. Azizi named the cub Shiba and raised him in his apartment, providing him with his own room, a sandbox to play in, and transitioning him to solid food. Their bond grew strong, making them the best of friends.
After two and a half years had passed, Shiba had outgrown his cub days. He had transformed into a 200-kilograms king of the beasts, yet he still resided in that government-subsidised apartment with Azizi and Sly. Azizi supposedly fed him 8 to 10-kilograms of chicken daily, considering his massive size. Lions sure do have an appetite!
If you thought a man and a giant lion sharing an apartment was a recipe for disaster, you wouldn't be alone. However, against all odds, everything was actually going perfectly well.
It was a regular day until Azizi encountered a stray house cat lingering right outside his doorstep. Driven by his affection for animals, he welcomed the cat into his home, adopted him, and lovingly named him Shadow. To ensure Shadow's comfort, Azizi arranged a special room for him, away from Shiba.
After about three weeks, Azizi and Shiba were playfully wrestling, their usual way of playing together. Suddenly, Shadow emerged from his room, and Shiba, catching a glimpse of him, immediately switched into wild animal mode. He sprang into action, pursuing Shadow relentlessly around the place in an attempt to capture and eliminate him. Azizi quickly reacted by positioning himself between Shiba and Shadow, only to end up being tackled by Shiba. Azizi held onto him tightly to prevent him from going after Shadow, but that's when Shiba latched onto Azizi's neck, then his arm, and finally clamped down on his knee, refusing to release his grip.
Azizi found himself in a precarious situation when his knee ended up in the mouth of an African lion. The tense standoff lasted for two long minutes before Shiba decided to release him. Feeling remorseful, Shiba quickly sought refuge in the bathroom. In great pain, Azizi was forced to dial for paramedics, who quickly transported him to the hospital. It was then that he fabricated a story about a Boerboel attack, worried that they would uncover Shiba and take his lion away.
Back at the neighbour's place, the police officers gazed through the hole they had created in the wall and were startled to find a fully-grown lion lounging inside. "Yoh, yoh, yooh!" the officers exclaimed in disbelief. Now, they needed to brainstorm a strategy to safely remove this 200-kilograms beast without becoming its next meal.
A police officer rappelled down the building with a tranquillizer gun in hand. Upon reaching the apartment window, he glimpsed Shiba inside. Taking aim through the bars, he fired a dart, striking Shiba on the shoulder.
Shiba's reaction was clear: he was not happy with the situation, leading him to get angry and charge at the window, repeatedly slamming against it. Fortunately, Shiba eventually succumbed to the tranquillizer, and the police were able to safely remove both Shiba and Sly from Azizi's apartment before relocating them. As expected, Azizi was taken into custody.
Charged with reckless endangerment and keeping wild animals without the proper permit, he was convicted and handed a fifteen-month prison term after a court hearing.
Sly, the ball python, was rehoused in a snake sanctuary in Cape Town, and Shiba was moved to an animal sanctuary in Paarl, where he had the opportunity to run and play with other big cats, including lions.
Until the age of nineteen years and four months, Shiba lived in that location, a significant lifespan in lion years. Sadly, he eventually passed away from natural causes.
Shadow was never seen again.
"Now that I knew fear, I also knew it was not permanent. As powerful as it was, its grip on me would loosen. It would pass."
I am sorry
I am sorry that I am seen as inferior
I am sorry that I walk around real loud and oh so proud.
I am sorry that I stand out,
I stand out because I am different
Uxolo bhuti for being myself
For standing up for myself,
For fighting for my rights
Uxolo bhuti for wearing a dress
For wearing something that you might define as revealing
I, as intombi find this dress appealing
Ke maswabi that your imagination ran wild and left you aroused
Your thoughts, your actions
Are you proud
Are you proud that you left my dignity dead and my spirit without a chance to rise
Tshwarelo mama afrika
Your children have no love for each other
Your children are dancing with knives just for clout
Ringing their neighbours necks just for selling bread at half price
Some of your children are crying without a voice
Some of your children are left with scars that are not seen, without choice
Asseblief ma
Ek weet jy is kwaad
I know it hurts to see the gifts that you gave us flow like the fluent Tanganyika and into the rich man's mouth
I know it hurts to see the spirit of Ubuntu replaced by the spirit of Izita
Asseblief ma, retshwarele
I know it hurts that you're beginning to rifts apart like modern day families disconnecting
You're ripping apart from small Djibouti, down to vibrant Maputo
We all see that
We live in a patriarchal society where we find ourselves apologizing for being female,
And where smashing makes you alpha male
We all smell
The gunpowder over all the Chlorofluorocarbon emissions
We all smell the iron in the blood of the victims
Mothers and Fathers
Sisters and Brothers
We miss their presence as we see them disappear
We miss the safety of our hometowns
We need not a teaser nor a knife to feel safe
All we cry for is change
Nothing more
Nothing less
Just change
Every tale astonishes with its melodies, warmth, and linguistic mastery.
Young Naledi desires to trade her Bantu knots for Nonhle Thema's hair on the Dark and Lovely box. She hopes to resemble her light-skinned mother. Ledi lives in Pimville with her strict grandmother, Mama Norah, while her mother, Dineo, pursues a lavish lifestyle.
After a government edict cut his father's job, Eniola's family has been struggling to survive. His secondary school teachers beat him because of his unpaid fees, and his parents are behind on the rent and cannot pay for his apprenticeship at a tailoring shop. Nevertheless, he strives to make himself useful, folding wrappers and trying to forget about how he's taunted by schoolmates.
Wuraola, the daughter of the tailoring shop's most valued customer, is an exhausted young doctor who can barely catch any sleep as she works long hours in a public hospital. After her boyfriend proposes, their relationship accelerates towards marriage even as his darker side is exposed, risking her family's spell of good things.
Meanwhile, Eniola becomes caught in a tangle of decisions that will bring him into collision with the political forces in the city and harm his family and Wuraola's in the process. Following the lives of Eniola, Wuraola, and their relatives, the novel traces the entwined fates of two families in a Nigerian city, one with all the fortune in the world and one that cannot catch a break.
From the award-winning author of Kintu comes a stunning story of a feminist coming-of-age.
In this radical critique of established pre-colonial and colonial history, Mellet centers on land dispossession, the destruction of livelihoods, and the brutality of slavery in South Africa. Drawing on scholarly work and his own experience of searching for identity, Mellet provides a bold new perspective on the loss of land and belonging. Characters such as Autshumao, Krotoa and Doman come to life in the story of the founding of a port at Cape Town over 50 years before Jan van Riebeeck arrived.
In the fight against neoliberalism, rural movements have gained prominence as crucial social forces. From Brazil and Mexico to Zimbabwe and the Philippines, these movements, with differing political ideologies but a shared foundation of dispossessed peasants and unemployed workers, have utilised tactics like land occupations to stand up against the neoliberal state.
Across three continents - Africa, Latin America, and Asia - this book compiles a set of original investigations on the latest rural social movements.
First published in Kenya in 2014: Kintu is a modern classic, a multilayered story that reimagines the history of Uganda through the cursed bloodline of the Kintu clan. Split across six chapters, the book starts in 1750 when Kintu Kidda leaves for the capital to swear loyalty to the newly appointed Buganda Kingdom ruler. He falls victim to a curse along the road that will follow his family for many years.
Makumbi interweaves the stories of Kintu's descendants as they attempt to overcome the weight of their common history and make peace with the legacy of tradition and the contemporary world that will shape their future in an ambitious story of a clan and a nation.
In this book, readers will find a unique exploration of the struggles faced by black South Africans in relation to land, labour, dispossession, and violence over the years. Mbuso Nkosi uses the 1959 potato boycott in South Africa as a starting point for thinking about the meaning of land and ancestral connection.
This book delves into how environmentalist and developmentalist ideas affect the indigenous population and their socio-economic status in the DRC. It specifically looks at the Batwa pygmies, who were displaced from Kahuzi-Biega National Park in the Eastern DRC and now reside in the mountainous region. The book also examines how they currently obtain natural resources like land, forests, and water and maps out the conflicts that arise.
This poetry book is filled with all things sunshine without ignoring the storms. Pain is real. Anxiety is real. Depression is real. Hardships in life are real. I hope when you pick up this book you feel heard and comforted. Even if it doesn't seem like it right now, your sun will rise once again.
"If sharks were men," Mr. K. was asked by his landlady's little girl, "would they be nicer to the little fishes?"
"Certainly," he said. "If sharks were men, they would build enormous boxes in the ocean for the little fish, with all kinds of food inside, both vegetable and animal. They would take care that the boxes always had fresh water, and in general they would make all kinds of sanitary arrangements. If, for example, a little fish were to injure a fin, it would immediately be bandaged so that it would not die and be lost to the sharks before its time. So that the little fish would not become melancholy, there would be big water festivals from time to time because cheerful fish taste better than melancholy ones.
"There would, of course, also be schools in the big boxes. In these schools, the little fish would learn how to swim into the sharks' jaws. They would need to know geography, for example, so that they could find the big sharks, who lie idly around somewhere. The principal subject would, of course, be the moral education of the little fish. They would be taught that it would be the best and most beautiful thing in the world if a little fish sacrificed itself cheerfully and that they all had to believe the sharks, especially when the latter said they were providing for a beautiful future. The little fish would be taught that this future is assured only if they learnt obedience. The little fish had to beware of all base, materialist, egotistical, and Marxist inclinations, and if one of their number betrayed such inclinations, they had to report it to the sharks immediately.
"If sharks were men, they would, of course, also wage wars against one another in order to conquer other fish boxes and other little fish. The wars would be waged by their own little fish. They would teach their little fish that there was an enormous difference between themselves and the little fish belonging to the other sharks. Little fish, they would announce, are well known to be mute, but they are silent in quite different languages and hence find it impossible to understand one another. Each little fish that, in a war, killed a couple of other little fish, enemy ones, silent in their own language, would have a little order made of seaweed pinned to it and be awarded the title of hero.
"If sharks were men, there would, of course, also be art. There would be beautiful pictures in which the sharks' teeth would be portrayed in magnificent colours and their jaws as pure pleasure gardens, in which one could romp about splendidly. The theatres at the bottom of the sea would show heroic little fish swimming enthusiastically into the jaws of sharks, and the music would be so beautiful that to the accompaniment of its sounds, the orchestra leading the way, the little fish would stream dreamily into the sharks' jaws, lulled by the most agreeable thoughts.
"There would also be a religion if sharks were men. It would preach that little fish only really begin to live properly in the sharks' stomachs.
"Furthermore, if sharks were men, there would be an end to all little fish being equal, as is the case now. Some would be given important offices and be placed above the others. Those who were a little bigger would even be allowed to eat up the smaller ones. That would be altogether agreeable for the sharks, since they themselves would more often get bigger bites to eat. And the bigger little fish, occupying their posts, would ensure order among the little fish, become teachers, officers, engineers in box construction, etc.
"In short, if sharks were men, they would for the first time bring culture to the ocean."
With promise of job,
he lured her into a cane field.
His gentleness a veil of sanity.
Lurking in his mind,
a perversion of sex instinct:
'Bind her! Torture her! Kill her! '
Deep within comfort zone
suddenly brandishing his bludgeon,
countenance wearing mercilessness -
sight of which imported terror into her spine.
Desperate plea for mercy fueling his excitement.
Menacingly, her clothes he demanded.
Hissing in agony like pine tree,
gnashing her teeth before the incubus, she stripped.
Her nudity assaulting his senses,
eyes flaming with lust,
he took stock of the bared flesh:
'Beautiful! Submissive! Horrified! '
Bound and gagged,
fantasy translating into reality,
all hell broke loose...
Urge gratified,
with her undergarment around her neck,
he sealed her fate.
Sixteenth victim of the unhinged mind:
Single mother of two horrendously maimed.
Not quite long,
no sooner had he got home
than long arm of the law tapped his shoulders:
DNA found on victims had matched his.
Karma forced to be lenient,
he lives albeit in confinement.
No Death Penalty In Mzansi.
Africa Africa Africa!
Oh the once mighty and heroic Africa
Why has thou grown so cold?
Why has thou remained thus numb?
A fremd is here in thy enclave
Battling thy home without mercy
And battering thy all in thy all
Before thy very eyes, oh Africa!
Thy peace is stolen
And fear injected in thy veins
With thy activities all at halt
All by same unwelcome visitor.
Thy hands are caged
And thy mouth silenced with mask
While thy children die in numbers
Before thy very eyes, oh Africa!
Hunger is dire in the land
Yet thy children are home and docked
For the fear of the fremd
And thou dost nothing.
Thou keepest quite, oh Africa!
In the midst of all these
Waiting for the Whites to solve thy puzzle
And the world to come to your rescue.
When hast thou grown lazy, Africa?
Where are thy ecumenic powers?
Where are thy roots and thy foods?
What happened to thy herbs?
Why art thou dependent on the Whites?
Why hope on them for solution?
Why look akimbo, oh Africa?
Can't solution come from thee?
Are thy bushes there in vain?
Thy creatures and powers to create
Africa, recall thy deeeds in the past
And mights and beauty in the days of old.
Arise, oh Africa, to save the world
For a fremd has trapped the earth
And the key with the earth remains
Arise oh Africa, and find ye the key.
Arise, Africa, Arise
Leverage thy powers and flowers
The world is waiting for your
Arise, oh Africa, arise
Pot of love,
Dot with life!
Spot of peace,
Hot like the sun;
Love Brewed In The African Pot!
My identity,
My continent,
My Country,
My land,
Love Brewed In The African Pot!
Mama Africa,
Africa! Africa!
My identity,
The Colour of my Skin,
The muse of life,
The muse of my mind,
Africa! Africa!
Cultures and Traditions,
My continent,
My Country,
My land,
My identity,
Love Brewed In The African Pot!
Mama Africa,
The continent of my birth,
With the muse of my mind to the world so sweet!
Poetry,
Way of life;
Presenting my works to the world,
From Africa!
Being an African,
Born and raised in Ghana,
My identity,
My life,
Love and art!
Love and life,
Peace and joy!
Mama Africa,
Africa! Africa!
Mama Africa,
Love Brewed In The African Pot!
With the fragrance of life and the romance of nature;
The beauty of creation,
The Harmony of life,
Mama Africa,
The Symphony of the truth!
With righteous morals;
Africa! Africa!
Mama Africa,
The colours of life,
With the aroma of creation;
Love Brewed In The African Pot!
No end of story has been told, several legends have been born; tiny runnels have wiped out into the Nile; massive water courses had gorged the Indian and the Atlantic.
Africa is the native land of all mankind species, our cherished fatherland is the continent of Africa; you are always welcome to Africa.
Jewels are found in the stain atop, pure beauty is found in our hearts; giving hope with full-blown vision.
For many people of the world, Africa is time and again seen through a spare monocle, purified curtain abodes of indigence, deprivation, illness, dearth, and blues.
Yes, we have our threat, it's true, but we are a people of physiques, resilience and faith; African elevation comes alive as a cloud nine.
Africa is a continent of countries, clans, of peoples; each with its olden days, its voice, its rainbows; its bounty of rituals, the diversity of its arts; and the charm of its civilization.
Africa is a nook of titanic conceivable of chow that is appetizing, fervent and sweet; Africa is not a spot of shadows, but a distance of light of a nightmare and opportunity; Africa is not a hole of pity, but a place of influence and self-respect.
We are the offshoot of a proud continent, Africa is where the sun steps up and bents with a scorching effulgence; making it a place where every day is a sunny season.
Don't cry for me Africa
Because I will never let you out of my mind
I hear your voices people of Africa
I hear your cries people of Africa
I see pain in your eyes people of Africa
It is hard to describe what you people of Africa are going through
Poverty strikes you all people of Africa
Don't cry for me Africa
Because I will keep you in my prayers people of Africa
Power to the people of Africa
People of Africa lift your spirit higher
Lord is the light and truth people of Africa
The Lord sends you a message from his heart to you people of Africa
He said because I love you
I will answer your prayers
I hear your prayers
Don't cry for me Africa
Because you have a friend that is the Lord
People of Africa continue doing the Lord's work
Make a wish people of Africa
The people of Africa are looking at the Lord face to face
Lord here is no paradise
We dream a little dream said the people of Africa to the Lord
The People of Africa Pray that the Lord will give each other strength every day
Don't cry for me Africa
Save the people of Africa
Strengthened the people of Africa each day
Because I'll be there in your dreams people of Africa
The people of Africa tells The Lord how much they love him
Don't cry for me Africa
Lord comes when you are ready people of Africa
Feelings you have for your Lord People of Africa
And I know you will never let it die
Nothing but flowers the people of Africa will plant in the sea shore for the Lord
Don't cry for me Africa
The people of Africa needs hope to heal there land
The Lord rose up on you people of Africa
Don't cry for me Africa
My heart will go on
Once I close this door of the ship I will sail across the Atlantic Sea
We are the miracles that God made
To taste the bitter fruit of Time.
We are precious.
And one day our suffering
Will turn into the wonders of the earth.
There are things that burn me now
Which turn golden when I am happy.
Do you see the mystery of our pain?
That we bear poverty
And are able to sing and dream sweet things
And that we never curse the air when it is warm
Or the fruit when it tastes so good
Or the lights that bounce gently on the waters?
We bless things even in our pain.
We bless them in silence.
That is why our music is so sweet.
It makes the air remember.
There are secret miracles at work
That only Time will bring forth.
I too have heard the dead singing.
And they tell me that
This life is good
They tell me to live it gently
With fire, and always with hope.
There is wonder here
And there is surprise
In everything the unseen moves.
The ocean is full of songs.
The sky is not an enemy.
Destiny is our friend.
Colonialism in its last moments is pushed to the centre stage -
the recoiling phenomenon intensely illuminated
by The Flame Of Liberty.
Roused by the prospect of emancipatory freedom,
from the shadows of Servitude, nations rise.
Their demand for a dawn long on hold
brings an end to the colonial yoke.
Her soul refreshed with a breath of new life,
Africa thrills at the sight of the expanding horizons -
an euphoria feelings that veiled 'Danger Signs'.
She's been bequeathed dreadful webs of intrigue:
Uneasy amalgams of multicultural colonial territories,
hitherto upheld through coercive mechanisms.
With price tags of 'patriots' hanging on won Liberty,
they bicker over the vacated Seat Of Power.
In their snobbery of honour in favour of greed,
strategic realignments of comrades produce
The Strongman: A tyrant - backed by 'jackals'
and supported by gullible public.
In a cruel twist of fate, hopeful assertion of self-rule
soon becomes the anticipation of a gaudy illusion.
The exit of Foreign Powers has delivered the people
into the grasps of Democratic Mobs:
Cabals fueled by putrid sludge of Kleptocracy,
devoid of political visions to transform into realities.
With no intent of restructuring imposed alien models,
cabals pursue joint criminal enterprises:
Good citizens are sieved out of the system,
party loyalists take over their place.
Key positions go to ruthless operators,
who translate decisions into actions.
Vast network of political jobbers across tribes are bought;
Political parties become private estates;
Police remains agent of The State;
Legislative bodies are subdued;
With the Judiciary effectively hijacked,
the oppressed has no where to seek redress.
Ultimately The Liberators Turn Into Oppressors.
Haven subverted Power Of The People
which has raised them to unfair dominion;
In frenzied torrents of greed without care,
Opportunistic Banditry is institutionalized.
In a matter of months raging economic crises follow.
And attempts to curb budget deficits upset lives,
sending an already violated citizenry
on a sad voyage into poverty.
In their scheme for hegemony, struggle credentials with
membership of the ruling party, are made the
prerequisites for political and economic ascendancy.
Their capitalist tendency reinvents imperialism.
With nepotism and sectionalism proclivity, parochial
appointments skewed towards specific groups are made.
Ethnic rivalry is promoted as one tribe is favoured above others.
Serious conflicts are provoked with diverse interest groups.
The Freedom Party once the pride of the nation
has turned public enemy number one.
With the powder keg too close to the naked flames,
BANG! It explodes. And the fire burns with a vengeance.
Turmoils of Democratic Anarchy usher in The Military:
Demagogues with perfect sets of iron teeth -
Whose stern miens wore the semblance of an undertaker.
They bait on sentiments of the masses to legitimize regime;
They promise to steer The Ship Of State
to berth on a safe harbour;
They pay lip service to their anti-corruption crusade.
They're the raiders of public treasuries!
They're the violators of Integrity Of The State!
They're the embodiments of rot!
Strategic alliance is built with oligarchs of crafty pretense.
The marriage of convenience symbiotic in its nature:
'You Rub My Back I'll Rub Yours.'
The wooed spiders, with a keen knowledge of the web
assume an oversight for the junta - reinforcing its hold
on power. Their administrative tasks keep the wheels
of government-owned enterprises turning,
thereby maintaining brazen squandering of resources.
In the quest for total control,
with the delusions that match their effronteries;
They unleash an assemblage of horrors:
Prison cells are packed with innocent citizens
picked on the flimsiest of excuses;
Rendition of dissidents tagged 'terrorists' becomes normal.
Curfews are enforced; Checkpoints are mounted;
Visible policing is achieved; With free speech punished,
displeasures are carefully altered in whispers; And
brutality is sold as pragmatic response to increased crime.
The cowardly populace petrified in its sullen expression,
in degrading submission blindly accepts Slavery.
Assets of nations are then plundered with impunity;
Ill-gotten moneys are laundered to different offshore heavens;
Treacherously, patrimonies are secretly being transferred
abroad, and governments turn around to ask for loans
on the very funds illicitly moved.
Post-colonial Africa is a continent marred with endemic conflicts;
Human Rights abuses of monumental proportions;
The entrenched lack of accountability within governments;
Shameful history of nationalized thefts by those in high places;
Quests for power at all costs - with Heads of States
holding on to power even when circumstances dictate otherwise.
Since Independence Africa has continued to stagnate
while the rest of the world have forged ahead.
But she ought to be thriving well!
She has an unrivaled wild life conducive to tourism;
Pristine ecosystem with endless stretches of fertile lands;
Rare incidences of natural disasters;
Resilient hardworking population;
Her prospects for hydroelectric supply is second to none.
She is hugely blessed with diverse mineral resources.
No other continent is endowed with as much!
Yet notoriously, Africa with such fortunes and potentials
relentlessly wallows in the throes of economic woes.
The sun sought thy dim bed and brought forth light,
The sciences were sucklings at thy breast;
When all the world was young in pregnant night
Thy slaves toiled at thy monumental best.
Thou ancient treasure-land, thou modern prize,
New peoples marvel at thy pyramids!
The years roll on, thy sphinx of riddle eyes
Watches the mad world with immobile lids.
The Hebrews humbled them at Pharaoh's name.
Cradle of Power! Yet all things were in vain!
Honor and Glory, Arrogance and Fame!
They went. The darkness swallowed thee again.
Thou art the harlot, now thy time is done,
Of all the mighty nations of the sun.
Don't let your heart stay broken
Do not stay fixated on what could have been
Focus on all that was deep
Be thankful you smiled
Be thankful you cried
And be thankful you loved and were loved
Because no magician is strong enough to conjure the magic you've created
So don't let your heart stay broke
Don't focus on the darkness
Or things that did not last
Don't look back at your pas
When your future is that bright..
A wind is ruffling the tawny pelt
Of Africa, Kikuyu, quick as flies,
Batten upon the bloodstreams of the veldt.
Corpses are scattered through a paradise.
Only the worm, colonel of carrion, cries:
'Waste no compassion on these separate dead!'
Statistics justify and scholars seize
The salients of colonial policy.
What is that to the white child hacked in bed?
To savages, expendable as Jews?
Threshed out by beaters, the long rushes break
In a white dust of ibises whose cries
Have wheeled since civilizations dawn
From the parched river or beast-teeming plain.
The violence of beast on beast is read
As natural law, but upright man
Seeks his divinity by inflicting pain.
Delirious as these worried beasts, his wars
Dance to the tightened carcass of a drum,
While he calls courage still that native dread
Of the white peace contracted by the dead.
Again brutish necessity wipes its hands
Upon the napkin of a dirty cause, again
A waste of our compassion, as with Spain,
The gorilla wrestles with the superman.
I who am poisoned with the blood of both,
Where shall I turn, divided to the vein?
I who have cursed
The drunken officer of British rule, how choose
Between this Africa and the English tongue I love?
Betray them both, or give back what they give?
How can I face such slaughter and be cool?
How can I turn from Africa and live?
Don't count the days, make the days count.
"One of the sayings in our country is Ubuntu - the essence of being human. Ubuntu speaks particularly about the fact that you can't exist as a human being in isolation. It speaks about our interconnectedness. You can't be human all by yourself, and when you have this quality - Ubuntu - you are known for your generosity. We think of ourselves far too frequently as just individuals, separated from one another, whereas you are connected and what you do affects the whole world. When you do well, it spreads out; it is for the whole of humanity."
What To Read Next?
The Zulus of New York
This powerful novel is based on the actual history of 'Farini's Friendly Zulus', men who were brought to Britain and then to America as entertainment. The story starts in 1885 with the main character, Em-Pee, in cold New York, disliking the exaggerated 'savage' performance of 'The Wild Zulu', which is very different from his own true history, not well understood in this foreign land: 'His Zulu colleagues call him Mpi, which has become Em-Pee to the English-speakers.' His real name is not the only thing lost in this distant foreign country, and he is viewed as nothing more than a sideshow act, although at least he is not kept in a cage like the beautiful Dinka Princess, owned by Monsieur Duval, the owner of Duval Ethnological Expositions. And so begins one of Zakes Mda's most powerful stories, a short novel but one that delivers a strong message and will evoke intense emotions in its portrayal of real injustices and indignities while also celebrating the strength and creativity of the human spirit and the transformative power of love.
Reclaiming the Land
In the fight against neoliberalism, rural movements have gained prominence as crucial social forces. From Brazil and Mexico to Zimbabwe and the Philippines, these movements, with differing political ideologies but a shared foundation of dispossessed peasants and unemployed workers, have utilised tactics like land occupations to stand up against the neoliberal state.
Across three continents - Africa, Latin America, and Asia - this book compiles a set of original investigations on the latest rural social movements.
Africa Risen: A New Era of Speculative Fiction
Immerse yourself in a unique anthology of fantasy and science fiction stories from Africa and the African Diaspora, handpicked by Sheree Renee Thomas, Oghenechovwe Donald Ekpeki, and Zelda Knight.
Tales from the African Sun: A Collection of East Africa Folklore
An intriguing anthology that explores the rich fabric of Southern African tradition and culture. Readers will find a wealth of historical narratives presented in the oral storytelling style within its pages, providing insights into the experiences, customs, and beliefs of the region's diverse peoples.
Every tale offers a window into the rich tapestry of Southern African life, from the myths of great warriors to the counsel of ancestors. This collection honors the timeless value of storytelling and extends an invitation to discover Southern Africa's enduring legacy via the craft of narrative.
The Little Book of Thinking
"Thinking big is not just for dreams and fairy tales. Your mind has awesome potential and boundless ambition. How you use that potential will steer and shape your life. Think small and that is the life you will have. Think bigger and you will never limit yourself."
This little book will put you on the path to success. Greater plans, greater answers, and greater ideas than you have ever had pertaining to your identity, goals, actions, and destination.