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Compiled by Thuthukani Ndlovu
Published by www.radioactivetuts.com Compiled by Thuthukani Ndlovu Edited by Fay Munetsi & Thuthukani Ndlovu No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic, photographic or mechanical means, which includes photocopying and recording on tape/ laser disk, on microfilm, via the internet, by email, or by any other information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission from the publisher. All the contributors in this book retain ownership of their work. Copyright Š From the Motherland 2 2017
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Contents • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Message from the compiler To my man friend: By Louzanne Coetzee The hashtag of this Land: By Sin -1 Bungeni my home: By Jubilee Rivombo Freedom: By Lehlogonolo Thokoane Love to hate Africa: By LaFayé Munetsi, #North and South: By Coby Daniels Baba is a hungry glutton: By Olholhadey I Am Woman: By Anna T. D. Gowera TPRS: By Thuthukani Ndlovu ZIMASSET: By Clemens Giving Birth: By Tony Boi I want to go home: By Abotreh Apart: By Ruth Yacim The Poetic Portrait: By Taku Zee Before you meet the one: By Wildestmind Light a fire where you are: By Kilay Deh'Poet Question for Zenith: By Dark Horse Contributors Thank you note
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Message from the compiler Greetings dear reader. Welcome to the beginning of yet another great year, which sees us continuing with the Radioactive Anthology Project. 2016 Marked the inception of this project – which is one of our biggest projects so far - and since the response from the poets and feedback from the readers was so overwhelming, we decided to continue with the project for the second year. Our first publication was entitled “From the Motherland”, and was published in January 2016, so we decided to publish the second version to kick start the year (You can download the first publication here). This book is similar to the first publication, as it only contains poetry from African poets currently residing in Africa. It provided a platform for poets to share their stories, beliefs and ideas. We take pride in giving people a voice, especially because the voices we hear on mainstream media tend to be biased most of the times, thus portraying a party’s agenda as compared to a true reflection of what people go through and what they believe. There are plenty of foreign narratives available in public and private spaces in our African communities. However, most of these narratives do not relate to many Africans. With this being said, we believe that it’s imperative for African writers to continue writing, and telling our own stories, our own views and beliefs, from an African perspective – thus providing content for readers to engage and be able to relate. It’s always a great pleasure to receive so many submissions from poets who are based in different areas, as this gives the anthology a diverse element, and also makes it an interesting read. I hope you enjoy what these great poets have submitted, and I also hope that you will be inspired to either continue, or start writing too. Thuthukani Ndlovu Compiler www.radioactivetuts.com
To My Man Friend To my man friend: No surprise that as I sit here, Once again words evade me; For yours are usually the loudest: In all categories of life you drive your opinion home With no regard for the feelings, truths or experiences of another; Because according to you, your word is law. To my man friend: According to you always stronger, better and faster; Your “äfrikaner” will driven down the throats of yours ”submissives”, Submissive according to who? Only you I tell you. To my man friend: The rest of us see through your thin pride, your angry attacks on anything that threatens your wealth, We know about the cracks in your armour.
To my man friend: You might underestimate me for being a female – Disabled to boot, But let me say: Don’t underestimate the powers of those Who with love, understanding, sincerity and empathy Will one day break down your fortress, level your carefully built up walls And destroy your carefully crafted armour. © Louzanne Coetzee
The hashtag of this Land Wet paint Church with no priest Clay children chasing the sun Fruitful trees with no roots Is it will or just our destiny Free. Magnetised by the west Forged by the east Released by the north Baptized by the south New creations Born to a pillaged womb I forgive your mistake You are still learning Yet my lost soul is still yearning Searching. Can you speak what you seek? What made you cross valleys so deep? Climb mountains so steep? Forever imagining his fingertips on my cheek Wiping the tears of his misdeed As I kneel and plead Waiting for him to preach Will that make me feel complete? A misfit puzzle piece Irregular heart beat Rejected jelly bean Still I want to be seen Validate my being Blossoming my anger into sin. Again, will this story sing The hashtag of this land Another fatherless child in the motherland. Š Sin -1
Bungeni my home Bungeni my home, oh Bungeni my home From the majestic mountains of Manashi The riverbeds of the great Ritavi Bungeni you have provided so much space. Bungeni my home, oh Bungeni my home Your soil is so fertile Many are the trees that are rooted in you Bungeni you have provided me food. Bungeni my home, oh Bungeni my home Where still water runs deep And every person leaves a footprint You are the anchor of our harmonious community Bungeni my home, oh Bungeni my home You have brought your people various facilities Fully taking care of your people Bungeni you have made us proud. Bungeni my home, oh Bungeni my home You have taken care of my Tsonga people Providing them with a place to stay Most importantly, Bungeni you have provided us a home. Š Jubilee Rivombo
Freedom Free indeed? Are we really free even when we’re in need? Does being free include living freely? Here’s the irony, the joke the word has turned to. When being free means being a slave to sin, When being free means being bound by an addiction, When being free means drinking the night away And wasting our lives instead of being aware of the time we are throwing away. The world is free from oppression The wish of Martin Luther King Jr He, after all spoke these words, “Free at last, free at last, Thank God Almighty We are free at last!” Did he imagine the prison of hatred and depression? Or like Nelson Mandela said “As I walked out the Door toward the gate that would lead to my freedom, I knew if I didn’t leave my bitterness and hatred behind I’d still be in prison.” Well, walk freely as you like, Declare freedom all the while Your heart is trapped, your mind oppressed, Harbouring bad feelings, your soul is bound Is that what freedom means? Who the Son sets free is free indeed. No need to ask, He came just for that. Freedom… Died when the system made it a reason to sin An excuse to refuse to take responsibility. Freedom… Made us dom to be free, Because we ultimately became care-less Thinking we are being care-free. Who the Son sets free is free indeed. It means He already met our needs, No sickness, no pain and yes no grief! He made us free! So that we can live responsibly, Gave each one of us a chance to start afresh…
Not to cast aside the will and purpose for our lives, He set. Do you think the clean slate is for us to rewrite our past? Do you think the new page He gave so we can draw our nightmares? Freedom… Is the future, the dreams. We are free to make things right. To let His glory, through us shine bright. Aspire to inspire, not just acquire the riches to spend On our way to the grave, While we are free to do more than just turn up, dab and nae nae No, no, you are free to enter into the holy of holies. Who the Son sets free is free indeed. “Come let us reason together” The Lord Himself said Permission to question Him Friend of God, that’s being free. Here’s a confession Paul made “come boldly to the throne of grace” Guaranteed place near the King. Child of God that’s being free, Rid of the weight of sin, Rid of the yoke of guilt, Rid of the heaviness of turmoil and distress. See His peace, see His joy That’s being free. Claim your freedom, Be free, being truly free. Only in God’s kingdom. Given reason to live our purpose! © Lehlogonolo Thokoane
LOVE TO HATE AFRICA I love to hate Africa, For how women and the girl child is treated No education she’s given Married off to the highest bidder A train of babies she raises Wounds from beatings she nurses No one cares No one hears No one dares to stand and fight for her. Love to hate Africa, For how young boys are taken, trained and turned into war machines Leaving them psychologically and emotionally numb to any form of feeling. I love to hate Africa, The corruption of the leaders Whose bellies are pregnant with riches gained from dehumanization of fellow Africans. They parade themselves like role models Yet all they do is flash what they’ve taken from you in your face Telling you the reason for poverty is your laziness. Love to hate Africa, For how human suffering is turned into political gain Politicians throw around slogans of how they’ll eradicate all forms of human suffering Yet once they’re in power they cause all human suffering. I love to hate Africa, For societies have adopted Western cultures Believing their own is out dated. The youth no longer show respect to those older than them They walk around pants hanging off their behinds No one can tell them otherwise. Love to hate Africa, The women have no class Or voice When they speak it’s suppressed with seemingly “more” important issues The main agenda is to ignore their gender Love to hate Africa…
I love to hate Africa, The killings of fellow brothers and sisters Either by guns or with words The brutality is demonic. I love to hate Africa, For the tribalism, racism and all the isms They’ve shattered lives Ruined nations Causing all to distrust anyone who wants to help Love to hate Africa.
I love to hate Africa, But when all stand in accord to fight the same enemy; You’ll never know that there was once discord. Africa! Africa! Oh beautiful Africa, love to hate Africa! © LaFayé Munetsi, 2017
#North and South The last dregs have been pulled from peace pipes Exhaled and carried away on the lamenting winds. The guinea fowl now does not dare To be seen strutting through the market square Guns are cleaned, matchetes oiled Not to uphold and defend, but wreak chaos and havoc. Grassy fields of the savannah land Like sentinels, bear witness to this parting of ways When the moon wanes and goes home to expire, The stars come down to weep a tribute. But who shall sing the dirges when mourning begins? Who shall sing the harvest songs when the scythes hack away in the millet farms? Š Coby Daniels
BABA IS A HUNGRY GLUTTON (Either hungry for sex or food)
Baba, the courageous coward, Muscular hunter with no ability; Whose gun pollutes the atmospheric silence When cockroach shambles through our backyard. That's the best he can do... Baba, invited guest at the dinner table, Sweeps the corridor along his nose with tongue When the kitchen aroma wanders around the atmosphere. Mops his ten fingers with his salivary soap after meal. That's the best he can do... Baba, the architect of poverty, Who draws his dreams into the sheet of vanity. Mama, applaudable heroine with no medal Whose sweat pays price for the meal baba perspirates over... Upon which he groans when his stomach revolts. Sacks of baby's food located left-right of her chest sap, Bitterly sweet, yet aids baba's digestion at night When sucked, only droplets are left For the marching babies in heaven coming to earth. That's the best he can do... To eat like a glutton eating his last supper, Dig into mama's thighs when daylight sleeps. Mama, marital servant with expected obligations, Feed the tummy of the lazy man called husband; Opens her thighs when baba is sexually starved Even when her libido melts away with day stress. 'Her wishes are submissive'. Š Olholhadey
I Am Woman Shyly, in innocence, my first bud sprung, Soon to discern Who they said was I. Quick to water with words were they, Onto which, for dear life, I strictly hung... Whispers hoarse Behind doors closed, Thus my schooling begun: “I am Woman; The crumbling of man. I am rug; Nose-wipe for some wicked thug. I am Old and shoddy rag On which, vile desires, To freely drag. I am Weak, Worth no more Than a broken stick. All that is about me is dreary and bleak. I am One on whom to look With malice, With guile; To be abhorred- that is I.� I drank in the teaching; Lapped the produce of their tongues. Biting off large chunks Of their verbal utterance, I swallowed them whole. I withered as I grew And knew not what to do...
“I am Scorn; Away from me must the light be shone! I am Harlot, I am Shame; Behold my body with great disdain. I am Insect Waiting in ready beneath your thumb I am Woman; I have no name.” I listened, I heard, ‘Till, with bloated head, I did want hear no more. Something was changing; My rose was in bloom, And to contain it within me I had no more room! Now my song is different, Listen and hear Behold ye and see The breaking of dawn: “I am Speech, Sturdy and strong; Invoking within you Emotions long gone. I am Grace, A waltz in my walk; Your mouth agape Yet not do you talk. I am Strength; Your helper, but not your slave. I am one who came from The One Who Is…
I am Vigour, I am Skip; Passion seeps from succulent lips. I am Jewel, I am Beam; Superior in poise, Entrancing in gait. I am Shout, Hearken ye the awakening noise! I am Rage; Do you dare to spoil my page? I am Fountain, Splashing; soothing... I am earthquakeDisturbing in my wake! I am alive, I see it is true. Not as I was, But now I subsist. I am Phenomenon. I am Beauty. I am Woman. I am Soul.� I am. I am Woman. ŠAnna T. D. Gowera (Facebook :8 December 2011)
TPRS – Teargas, Pepper Spray, Rubber bullets & Stun Grenades Tear gas, pepper spray, Rubber bullets and stun grenades. Tear gas, pepper spray, Rubber bullets and stun grenades. Tear gas: a gas used that causes tears To pour out of a students irritated eyes, While trying to fight a system That has been feeding them with lies. Pepper spray: a spray used to spray their eyes In order to try and blur their vision, Because not only are their eyes now wide open, Their minds are openly fed up with the flaws of the system. Rubber bullets, maliciously fired, From private security owned guns, Aiming to hit students who are protesting: Students protesting about insufficient funds. Stun grenades, exploding at student gatherings In order to demobilize the student protest movement, Causing moments of blindness and lack of hearing For these students who are demanding a radical improvement. Tear gas, pepper spray, Rubber bullets and stun grenades. Tear gas, pepper spray, Rubber bullets and stun grenades. Tear gas: a gas that's used to create panic, Leaving students with no choice but to run in fear, For this gas does not recognize their cries, Or their ancestors blood, sweat and tears. Pepper spray, causing moments of blindness, Whether you're innocent, guilty or victimized, For just like the government, it also turns a blind eye Because it refuses to see the struggle you fight for through your eyes‌
Rubber bullets, flying through the atmosphere, Looking for a body to hit, And these bullets don't care whether you run , stand, Or mind your own business and sit. Stun grenades, explosive flashes that Bang so loud and aim to disintegrate student gatherings, While drowning the voices of students who sing Songs about struggle heroes who fought for the rights of black South Africans. Tear gas, pepper spray, Rubber bullets and stun grenades. Tear gas, pepper spray, Rubber bullets and stun grenades. Students, lecturers, management, journalists, Government, comrades, leadership, populists, Court interdicts and memorandums of demands, Heavily armed security and student activists with bricks in their hands, Hashtags, #FeesMustFall , #CampusShutdwn Student masses marching on campuses, roads and in town, Some remain quiet, some scream in pain, others sing to break the silence, Some protest peacefully, while others believe in death threats, vandalism and violence. If the generations that come after us has to fight the same struggle that we are facing, Then it will be without a doubt, That we would have failed as a generation, But if the next generation is deprived Of the current benefits - that were fought for in the past - due to our actions, Then we will be a disgrace in the books of History, In the 2016 fight for education. Š Thuthukani Ndlovu, 07/10/2016 Voices of Youth Blog
ZIMASSET : ZIMBABWE AGENDA FOR SUSTAINABLE SOCIO-ECONOMIC TRANSFORMATION Zimbabwe the land of emancipation With a people loving their nation Even when plunged in economic recession We falter not from our perception: ‘A new era is in procession Graduands will all retain a profession’. An agenda was set in place A salvation was preached to us The mind prepared for the race A quest making us lose trust In our agenda’s mantra As we pause to ponder and wonder Is this not too big a blunter? An ideology made in pride Staring back in spite. ‘Sustainable’ was to be The atoning fee For the shackling sanctions spree Rendering us truly free Yet sustainable proved to be Incredulously expensive to see Blotting out all remnants of hope. Social services’ improvement Was the echoing notion Conjuring a belief that development Had been stirred in motion To better the commoner’s welfare A reality that has become ill-seeming A conclusion not so rare From a people somewhat deceiving…
‘Economic investment and poverty eradication’ The assertions that held the solution To rescuing a crippled African nation. Value addition was the mandate Likewise, greed and corruption were ardent From those at the helm of this facet. ZIMASSET is an economic blueprint Set to be the nation’s manuscript A manual demanding a personnel Ethical, practical and non-political. © Clemens
Giving Birth She gave birth to you. Her blood, sweat and tears Were invested in the idea That you would bring meaning to her existence. She gave birth to you. Her screams for help fell on death’s ear. Known only by doctors and nurses that were near Alone with no hand to hold because daddy wasn’t there. She gave birth to you. She choked on her sighs of relief. Her body was batted and bruised But she couldn’t risk the thought of losing you. She gave birth to you. Even if your birth would put her in a tomb And leave her soul scattered in ruins All she ever wanted was to see you escape her womb. She gave birth to you. When she held you in her arms for the first time, Her tears turned into a waterfall of joy. “Thank Heaven’s it’s a baby boy!” She gave birth to a boy. She gave birth to a man. She gave birth to a leader. She gave birth to Africa. © Tony Boi
I WANT TO GO HOME Walking in the East of a free nation, My mind gallivants far away in Loam, The oldest of all habitats; my home. I know her by my imagination. Sooner than later I want to feel her. Her lips on mine, my feet on her body. Natural heat she’ll transfer to my body; Her very DNA is what I share. The beginning of writing and reading, Home of the centre of the home of mankind Where the belt does the Prime Meridian find. On her goodies many men are feeding: Both the poor foreigners and the natives. When will I go and see my relatives? Š Abotreh 2016, Poetybank Group
Apart I knew not of tribalism; I knew not that my people, The same people I schooled with Wanted to be apart. Apart they say, Is not just a word for my people Because, they want apart. They want apart cities, They want apart country name, They want apart societies, Apart languages, All apart they say. You see, I was formed by two tribes So I knew not of tribalism, I knew not that my people, May not be my people I knew not that tribes would matter In love, or dignity For my people look the same to me And still do. But I learn today that my people want apart And they want to call it Biafra. Š Ruth Yacim
The Poetic Portrait It is a perfect poetry portrait, Pixels precisely picturing her posture, Painted purple and pink, Perplexing prowess in purchasing perspectives, Punitive points on primary politics, Penned with pride and painted with passion. Pardon my progressive pattern of using P’s, Poetry praises , poetry preaches , poetry also punishes, Passion pin-pointed in plenty of my pieces, My perfect poetic portrait, Painting the proper practice of peaceful presidency, Problem presenting peach pigment patched there. Pure and productive thoughts pardoned from the prison, Poured out provocatively but proverbially papered, Poking promiscuous pastors and paper-chasing prophets, Who parent our pessimism in their pastoral practices, As we prognosticate paganism in their prophecies, Poor Peter poisoned by their paralyzing portions. Picasso styled I paste the painful posture, My portrait like Paws protruding prominently I pose a risk, My poetic portrait, priceless and picturesque, Pot inspired at moments , but passionately pottered, Pedants of political and religious vitality, Pistols rounds to the clergymen and parliament persons, If practically pictured perfectly it punishes fairly. The Poetic Portrait! Š Taku Zee
BEFORE YOU MEET THE ONE You don’t believe it’s true You don’t believe it’s real You don’t believe there’s any hope Before you meet the one. You spend days daydreaming And spend nights gazing at the beautiful African Sky Wondering whether the person will come Before you meet the one. You think it’s a lie A fantasy created by some crazy person You think it’s just a fairy tale Before you meet the one. You finally discover Yes you do You wake up one day And life brings you your lifelong dream – The One! More than you could ever expect That’s how the person is like Dressed like a god and looking like an angel Making every second with them feel like an eternity This is what happens ladies and gentlemen When you meet the one. © Wildestmind
Light a fire where you are Time in our hands the moon is beaming in the darkest part of the sky looking as if it were blood shed from the traces of our history... through our souls we are time travellers who have witnessed extinction and destruction and can barely remember how we got here despite the wrinkles that go beyond our skin to retrace themselves right onto the surface of our hearts Africa seems to be Africa for everyone except for the African himself there is nothing to remember beyond the amarula tree as tall as a mountain top To the coming generation so... here.... light a fire where you are... until it bites the words of my great ancestors into my ears... until I cannot differentiate between the stars of which are less flawed today than they were yesterday so light a fire where you are to remind your feet that upon this soil walks warming hearts as flawless as the stars ...
here lays land that's healing so light a fire where you are for the moon shines just above it among the gods there are kings.... and queens.... barefoot... that shine with pride but do not boast so light a fire where you are.. for Africa is learning to love itself. Š Kilay Deh'Poet
QUEST FOR THE ZENITH Overflowing in profusion, and emphatic fullness Dawns the cradle of mankind in a rhythmic oneness Wondrously adorned by landscapes stochastic in their presence But engineered with mathematical precision in essence. Embodying the laws of fluid dynamics to perfection Rivers brim majestically with algorithmic precision Minds resonate at a wavelength governed by commonality Our hearts beating in tandem with a synergistic regularity. With many tongues singing mellifluously in autonomous unison A sweet chorus of togetherness hummed in atomic excitation Sends a reflected, refracted and dispersed ray of light Into energised rays so mutually exclusive beyond naked sight Finally atmospherically bonded into a rainbow of races. The hibernating giant awakens Into the illumination of daylight Birthed afresh, is the land of poetic sublimity Africa the land of my mother‌ Š Dark Horse
CONTRIBUTORS
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Full Name: Louzanne Coetzee Stage Name: Louzanne Coetzee Nationality: South African Location: Bloemfontein (South Africa) Occupation: Research assistant (UFS IRSJ) Link: Louzanne Coetzee (Facebook) Full Name: Mohale George Matlala Stage Name: Tony Boi Nationality: South African Location: Bloemfontein (South Africa) Occupation: Student Link: www.instagram/thee_introverted_artist/ Full Name: Anna T. D. Gowera Stage Name: Scarlett Wordsmith Nationality: Zimbabwe Location: Harare (Zimbabwe) Occupation: Management Systems Auditor Link: www. zimlink.org Full Name: Daniel Asamoah Yeboah Stage Name: Coby Daniels Nationality: Ghanaian Location: Ghana Occupation: Student Link: www.cobysthinktank.wordpress.com
Full Name: Sindiso Maiswa Stage Name: Sin -1 Nationality: Zimbabwean Location: Bulawayo (Zimbabwe) Occupation: Student Link: Sindiso Maiswa (Facebook) Full Name: Jubilee Rivombo Stage Name: Jubilee Nationality: South African Location: Free State (South Africa) Occupation: Student Link: Jubilee Rivombo (Facebook) Full Name: Akinlabi Ololade Wahab Stage Name: Olholhadey Nationality: Nigerian Location: Ibadan (Nigeria) Occupation: Prospective copper Link: Akinlabi Lolade Full Name: : Thembekile Tsaoane Stage Name: Kilay Deh'Poet Nationality: South African Location: Free State (South Africa) Occupation: Student Link: http://hellopoetry.com/kilayDehPoet/
Full Name: Fay Shuvai Munetsi Stage Name: LaFayĂŠ Nationality: Zimbabwean Location: Johannesburg (South Africa) Occupation: Student / ESL Teacher Link: Twitter @LaFaye_Munetsi Full Name: Takudzwa Denny Ziwenjere Stage Name: Taku Zee Nationality: Zimbabwean Location: Harare (Zimbabwe) Occupation: Aircraft Technician Link: www.facebook.com/takudzwa.ziwenjere Full Name: Ruth Yacim Stage Name: Ruth Yacim Nationality: Nigerian Location: Nigeria Occupation: unemployed Link: www.anastasiaruth.WordPress.com Full Name: Evans Kissi Owusu Stage Name: Abotreh Nationality: Ghanaian Location: Accra (Ghana) Occupation: Student Link: http://abotreh.wordpress.com
Full Name: Lehlogonolo Thokoane Stage Name: Lehlogonolo Thokoane Nationality: South African Location: Pretoria (South Africa) Occupation: Phlebotomy Technician Link: @ImHlogiThokoane (Tiwtter) Full Name: Nyika Clemens Stage Name: Clemens Nationality: Zimbabwean Location: Harare (Zimbabwe) Occupation: Student Link: Clemens Nyika (Facebook) Full Name: Chiratidzo Charakupa Stage Name: Wildestmind Nationality: Zimbabwean Location: Harare (Zimbabwe) Occupation: Student Link: www.therealzimbabwe.co.zw Full Name: Terrance Mawanga Stage Name: Dark Horse Nationality: Zimbabwean Location: Norton (Zimbabwe) Occupation: Student Link: Terrance Mawanga (Facebook)
Thank you You have come to the end of the anthology, and I would like to thank you for taking your time to download and read this book. I sincerely hope that you enjoyed each and every poem that was featured. I would like to thank each and every poet that contributed to this publication, and the amazing editor “Fay Munetsi” for always doing a great job, because it’s these people that truly make this anthology what it is. It would also be an injustice for me to not give thanks to God, for He is the one that has made all our achievements possible. You can find more information about The Radioactive Blog on the following platforms:
If you are a poet and would like to feature in any of the upcoming anthologies, make sure you like the Radioactive Facebook page (link provided above) in order to keep updated with the call for submissions and deadlines. For more information about the other anthologies, you can visit/subscribe to the radioactive blog. #StayBlessed Kind Regards Thuthukani Ndlovu Compiler www.radioactivetuts.com
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