Dear Mr President

Dear Mr. President

I humbly greet you in the name of peace, love and truth. I write to you today as nothing more than a man, a brother, and a son. The son of a loving mother, a loving people, and a hateful country.

Dear Mr. President

I respectfully request your audience as I divulge my thoughts, and speak the truth as it is known to me. I can only hope that my experiences as a child of this country, a student of our history, and a lover of truth serve me well as I attempt to articulate a reality well known to me, and millions more.

However, if ever I do fall short in my efforts, I would only hope that the undying spirit of those who came before me raise me higher and closer to the truth.

In IsiZulu it is said that “indlela iyaziwa abaphambili” (the path is known by those who are ahead). May my letter then serve as a call to truth, in the hope that you’ll be at the other end of the line. May my words be no more than an echo of the cries to justice made by brothers, and sisters all across this land. Indulge me then for a moment, and allow me to ask this question:

What does it mean to be black in South Africa?

But to be in a constant state of struggle against cultural, social, economic, and psychological annihilation every day.

But surely it must mean more?

If it does, then I owe to myself and those around me to bring to light the true nature of our existence in this country. From 1652, when the first Dutch settlers arrived at the Cape, to 1961, when the Republic was established, to 1994, when the “Rainbow Nation” was born, and all throughout this country’s dynamic evolution I found one perennial truth.

That, to be black in South Africa is necessarily to live on the margin. To exist only as a supplement to the sufficient truth that whiteness is enough. My words alone couldn’t bear to imagine the full extent to which this truth is still propagated, and protected to this day.

Sound then, the screams of those who suffered the ill fate of the massacre that took place in Marikana. Sound the innocent screams of little black girls, and boys who suffer the intellectual slaughter wrought on them by a failing education system in their country. Sound the screams of their older brothers, and sisters who suffer at the hands of cultural assimilation masquerading as integration. Sound the screams of their parents, who are crippled by the economic onslaught of outsourcing. Most importantly, sound loud and clear, the voices of the beautiful black bodies across the country brave enough to call for the fall of this historically violent system.

Sound it loud. Sound it clear, and through their voices may we hear what it means to be black in South Africa.

On the 16th of December every year, we celebrate in this country what is known as Reconciliation Day. A day of coming together, and reflecting on the complex history, and progress of our relationships as citizens of South Africa. A day of celebrating the accomplishment of the “Rainbow Nation”, a seemingly impossible feat when looks back on our history. A day for family, friends, and fallacy.

To speak of reconciliation, is necessarily to presuppose conciliation. Conciliation, in and of itself, tells of a time of compatibility, and collaboration between people. A time, which I found hard to come by when looking back on our history. A task as tall as seeking out a dignified recognition of blackness in this country.

Consequently, I assume ignorance in this regard and ask that my fellow my countrywomen and men indulge me enough to enlighten me to a higher truth. I ask them

What does it mean to be black in South Africa?

If this is a question we cannot answer ourselves, I would ask then that we look to the bright sons and daughters of this land, of times present and past. The Fallist movements across our nation’s universities call for a “Free, Decolonized Education” for all. A concept not far flung from Bantu Biko’s transcendental Black Consciousness philosophy of the ‘70s. Necessarily then, what our brothers and sisters are asking for, is an education that makes the learner conscious of their relationship with their society.

For the black mass in South Africa, and in fact all South Africans, that society is one that upholds, and protects White Patriarchal Supremacist norms systematically, and institutionally. Since 1652 till this day. Although much has changed, not much has changed.

So we too then cannot change our question, so pertinent to the lives of millions upon millions across this country.

Therefore, I ask that you indulge me once more Mr President, as I ask

What does it mean to be black in South Africa?

In the name of peace, love, and truth.

Sincerely,

Kukhanya Magubane

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no nation of mine

no nation of mine
where the black kids are crying
because their black skin is the crime
no nation of mine
where my existence is an inconvenience
where europeans turn african for conveience
no nation of mine
where my blackness is a crime
where the black kids are dying
no nation of mine
no nation of mine
no nation of mine.

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Maktub.

The only thing to be feared is comfort in servitude.
Death is only a necessary evolution.
In the fight for our humanity,
We will not tire.
 
South Africa is no home to me,
for I am no slave of a colony.
I am a free man,
and a slave to none but God’s work.
 
All men must die,
and I intend for death to find me doing my people’s work,
God’s work.
 
Black is no curse,
neither is it synonymous with poverty, misery
and all the evils they would have us believe.
 
There will be no rest.
 
As Moses liberated the Jews from their slavery in Egypt,
so too shall we set ourselves free from our misery.
But look not for Moses, not for Mandela, not for me.
Look only for yourself.
 
And if still you find no inspiration,
you need only look to the millions of black children in the world today born into a life of perpetual servitude.
 
Do not for one second be mistaken.
This world was built on the backs of our fathers and mothers
who came before us.
The elevation of the few,
and the degradation of the many,
came at the expense of the exploitation of the black nation.
the yellow nation,
the red nation.
I am, first and foremost,
a servant of humanity,
a guardian of the truth,
a protector of the youth.
 
And you will forgive my insolence
if I find no truth in suffering
no truth in pain.
 
Black people deserve freedom no more than any other people,
not because they are black,
but because they are people.
 
And for as long as our lives are worth less than paintings, lions, and serving the status quo,
you’ll forgive me
if I choose to serve my people
the only way I know how,
with my life.
 
I have not an ounce of hate in my veins
for no man, no woman, no child, no colour, nor creed.
 
Ours is only a revolution of love,
a love for truth,
a love for humanity,
a love for my people.
 
A love so deep
that it allows me to see no rest,
till all my people are free.
 
Free from fear.
Free to love.
Free to be.
 
God bless all her children.
 
Maktub.
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untitled –

Ubhuti bamuthathile izolo

ngaphambu kwenhlanvu yokugcina yelanga,

umpande nondima bekwinkonzo yokugida umhlanga

ubesexhiza igazi bemu xhixha ngesduna sesbhamu,

lopha ikhanda,

won’ usathane seboyomlanda ngehlamvu

ugogo agaye amakhambi

aphendle indlela yomhambi…

 

Izolo beliduma izulu kwehla uzamcolo,

izigodi zagcwala isililo

kwalahleka amasiko

ushaka wayeshilo

wathi leli liyophathwa ngodlebe zikhanya ilanga,

kodwa ukuphi mntomnyama,

baphi obhambatha kamancinza,

bhambatha imihlane yamadoda,

ubheshu libomvu liyazenza izindaba,

umanzi amnyama elangeni,

phuma langa sikothe,

kade sikothela kude.

 

Vuka mpande emnyama

dwala lami uhambe nami

sibheke emusamu

 

-Luyanda Ndlovu

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a power in the people

there is a power in the people

that’s why they try to keep us segregated

emotionally, mentally, and religiously

looking to prey upon our sanity

 

but

 

there is a power in the people

a power in the heroes

who know themselves as equals

 

there is a power in the people

a power in the people

a power in our people.

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the truth is the truth is

Perspective pervades perception

and pollutes the purity of truth.

Beware

the ghost of relativity

draped in a veil of reality,

addressing the body of your knowledge

as the bearer of the absolute.

Beware

the seas of popularity

paddling in the oceans normality,

the waves of which crash upon your sanity

and wash away your individuality

Beware

be where you’ll be aware

of the dreariness of truth.

dreary only because

you’ve been rarely wary

of that which is televised as truth.

the truth is,

the truth is

too absolute to compute

far beyond the reach

of human teach

only heard when nature speaks

so beware.

Beware

the false promenade to prosperity

proposed as the prose of plurality

when in actuality,

the duality of reality

often masks individuality

as the face of insanity

but how can it be?

for when I peer from the top of my mind’s eye

i veer from the clutches of ignorance

escaping an inhumane humanity,

solemn in the solace of morality.

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a poem by Kukhanya Magubane

Time necessitates change.

I pray it’s always for the better.

Life or death.

It is simply that simple.

Either you’re growing or you’re dying. I pray that you choose wiser. Life is all around you, all you have to do is open your eyes. Look outside, and you will find wisdom. Look within, and you will find God.

The only absolute is that there are no absolutes.

Death is only certain for the body, but the soul can live forever…

The human spirit cannot be governed by the laws of nature, nor can it be quelled by the acts of men. Ascension is the only direction for that which is sent from heaven. I wish you nothing but, Strength and Stillness, Soul and Passion, Light and Wisdom, Peace and Love.

In the pursuit of peace, don’t ever let anyone take a piece of your peace. All are welcome to share in it, but, your peace is your own. Every breath is a blessing, don’t take it for granted. Breathe life into the lives of others every opportunity you get, you never know who might need it.

Live, Love and Laugh into your twilight years.

And when you look back on it all,

these will be your wonder years.

 

Time necessitates change.

I pray it’s always for the better.

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