The poem ‘My Name‘ by Magoleng wa Selepe has touched many strong chords. It is the truth, and still rings true today. During colonial times, our parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents were stripped of their names and identity: to go to school, they had to have a European name, and very often their own names were distorted because the European colonizer could not spell it properly. Depending on the origin of the colonizer, whether it was France, Great Britain, Germany, or Portugal, one ended up with a French, British, German, or Portuguese name. Enjoy !!!
I just thought about what happened to our fathers, mothers, grandmothers, and grandfathers during colonial times: to go to school African children were forced by European missionaries to adopt a christian name such as John, Peter (Jean, Pierre), etc… as opposed to their good old African name Nomzimo, Makeba, Ndoumbe, Keïta, etc. Thus many Africans who would have just worn the name ‘Ndoumbe Mpondo‘ or ‘Binlin Dadié‘ or ‘Um Nyobé‘ had to adopt a European name such as John + their own name, such that they became: John Ndoumbe Mpondo or Bernard Binlin Dadié or Ruben Um Nyobé. To this day, the tradition has remained… most Africans would have three or four names: their family name, and their given name, plus the European first name and in some cases a European middle name as well. The poem below entitled…
Friends, today, I want to introduce you to a poem by the great South African author Dennis Brutus. Dennis Brutus broke rocks next to Nelson Mandela when they were imprisoned together on the notorious Robben Island. He spent 18 months there. His crime, like Mandela’s, was fighting the injustice of racism, and challenging South Africa’s apartheid regime. His weapons were his words: soaring, searing, poetic. He was banned, he was censored, he was shot. However, this poet’s commitment and activism, his advocacy on behalf of the poor, never flagged. Brutus inspired, guided and rallied people toward the fight for justice in the 21st century; his poetry was his way of protesting against the injustices of the apartheid regime and the world, while celebrating the freedoms all men deserved.
The poem below poem is a call to friendship without borders, freedom, love, and peace. Enjoy!!!
There will come a time
There will come a time we believe
When the shape of the planet
and the divisions of the land
Will be less important;
We will be caught in a glow of friendship
a red star of hope
will illuminate our lives
A star of hope
A star of joy
A star of freedom
Few countries in the world, apart from European and American (as if writing was only part of the western world) countries, can claim several Nobel prizes in literature. South Africa is one of those countries: with Nadine Gordimer and J.M. Coetzee.
The South African Nobel-prize-winning author Nadine Gordimer, one of the literary world’s most powerful voices against apartheid, died today at the age of 90. She passed away peacefully at her home in Johannesburg. She was the first winner of this prize for South Africa.
Born in Gauteng, South Africa, in 1923 to immigrant European parents, Gordimer was awarded the Nobel prize for literature in 1991 for novels and short stories that reflected the drama of human life and emotion in a society warped by decades of white-minority rule.
Many of her stories dealt with the themes of love, hate and friendship under the pressures of the racially segregated system that ended in 1994, when Nelson Mandela became South Africa’s first black president. She became active in the then banned African National Congress (ANC) after the arrest of her best friend Bettie du Toit in 1960, and the Sharpeville Massacre on 21 March 1960. Thereafter, she was a close friends with Mandela’s defense attorneys (Bram Fischer and George Bizos) during his 1962 trial; she actually helped Mandela edit his famous speech I am prepared to die. She was one of the first people president Mandela asked to see after his release from prison in 1990.
She was called one of the great “guerrillas of the imagination” by the poet Seamus Heaney, and a “magnificent epic writer” by the Nobel committee. Her intense, intimate prose helped expose apartheid to a global readership and continued to illuminate the brutality and beauty of her country long after the demise of the racist government. “She makes visible the extremely complicated and utterly inhuman living conditions in the world of racial segregation,” Sture Allen, permanent secretary of the Swedish Academy, said while awarding Ms. Gordimer the Nobel Prize for literature in 1991. “In this way, artistry and morality fuse.”
She had three books banned under the apartheid regime’s censorship laws, along with an anthology of poetry by black South African writers that she collected and had published. The first book to be banned was ‘A World of Strangers,’ the story of an apolitical Briton drifting into friendships with black South Africans in segregated Johannesburg in the 1950s. In 1979 Burger’s Daughter was banished from the shelves for its portrayal of a woman’s attempt to establish her own identity after her father’s death in jail makes him a political hero.
I never read any of her work, and now plan to start. Thank you to Nadine Gordimer for her brightness, and for her endless fight for freedom through her works.
In the past I have always wished that we, Africans, could be patriotic. I came across this beautiful poem ‘Love poem for my country‘ by South African writer Sandile Dikeni. I really enjoy the way the author describes his country, the valleys, the birds, the ancient rivers, and its beauty. He feels the peace, the wealth, and the health his country brings. He is one with hiscountry.He is at home! His country is not just words or food, or friends, or family, it is more, it is his essence! That is true patriotism, the bond that links us to the bone to our motherland. Enjoy!
My country is for love so say its valleys where ancient rivers flow the full circle of life under the proud eye of birds adorning the sky.
My country is for peace so says the veld where reptiles caress its surface with elegant motions glittering in their pride
My country is for joy so talk the mountains with baboons hopping from boulder to boulder in the majestic delight of cliffs and peaks
My country is for health and wealth see the blue of the sea and beneath the jewels of fish deep under the bowels of soil hear the golden voice of a miner’s praise for my country
My country is for unity feel the millions see their passion their hands are joined together there is hope in their eyes