Thoughts about origins of Sound

In God's kingdom sound comes from uncontainable joy.
In the kingdom of darkness sound comes from excruciating pain.

I am South African

I am a South African

I owe my being to the women in red, white and black

I owe my being to the women in purple and black

I owe my being to the women in black and white

Who seek no positions

Who take no credit

Who never fight to be seen

Who expect no crowns

Abafazi boxolo               (women of peace)

Abafazi bankol’ingagungqhiyo      (women of unshakable faith)

Abafazi abathi behluphekile bathi bahluthi     (women who are poor yet count themselves as rich)

I owe my being

To women who do not beg

Who seek no human favours

Who seek the favour of One

When they appear before God

They know that kugqinyiwe, kwanele  (it is finished, it is enough)

I am South African

I owe my being not to the hills

Nor the mountains

I owe my being to the women

Abathi mntan’am qina          (who say my child be stand strong)

Mntan’am kuyanyanyezelwa   (my child perservere)

Mntan’am uThix’uyaphendula   (my child God answers)

I am South African

I do not owe my being to the mountains

I owe my being to the women whose faith is as unshakable as mountains

I owe my being to women who have said God’s love is deeper than the ocean

I owe my being to the women

Who have gathered every Thursday from Colonial days, apartheid and post-apartheid days

I owe my being to the women whose prayers are going up to heaven as I write

I am South African

I owe my being to every unacknowledged missionary

Who left England, Germany or France

Who braved unknown lands and scripted languages never before written

Who made mistakes but created ways for the future

I owe my being to my grandmothers’ prayers

I owe my being to my great grandmothers’ conversion

I owe my being to the fire of the Methodists

The faithfulness of the Anglicans

And every mother who prays

I am a South African

© siki dlanga

Inspired by Women’s Thursday prayers over Mhlobowene radio station.

Siki Musing on Love

Love has rules of its own. It is senseless and nonsensical. It is foolishness to the outsider and wisdom to the partaker. It is irritating and boring to the onlooker. It is exciting and exhilarating to the ones engrossed in it. It is illogical to the thinker and logic to its drinker. It is clearly a thing not to be observed but to be had. 

Leaving

Taking off from Tel Aviv after spending over 2 hours at the airport. They do their security checks quite thoroughly with grace. Very impressive. Everyone is incredibly patient at those security checks. It's a lot easier to go through South Africa.

do it again - (poetry africa)

do it again

i sat
beneath the light
of your performance
last night.
where you
fed me
with a silver spoon
many
rich
courses
of your rare

words.
then
when the night
was over;
i,
i
staggered
home,
because you,
you,
had me drunk
with your
poetry.

©  siki dlanga
27Sept2010

I wrote this the day after I had spent an evening listening and watching the greatest poets of Africa perform in Cape Town CTICC. Poets such as Gcina Mhlope, Lebo Mashile and many great poets of our continent including an interesting duo comprised of a White South African and a White Zimbabwean ripping each other off in the most fantastic performance. It was the night where a great base guitarist accompanied one of the poets. When we went to compliments since my friend is crazy about base guitars, the base guitarist was rather mesmerised by my eyes. My favourite performance of course the entire evening was Malika Ndlovu. What a discovery! Wow. I just love that woman. How I wish I could attend it this time again.

This is the kind of day

This is the kind of morning
Where I know I was born to run
These weights I carry
I do not feel
These weights I carry
I do not feel
I can run forward
And never stop
Today
Not even the weight
of my body
Hinders me
This is the kind of morning
I know I was born
Today
I can run

Shabbat

Holy One write Your words on my heart. Spirit of Truth show me Your ways and I will have fullness of life. Holy One only Your words matter because Your Word is life, light and water to my soul, springs of life! Holy One there are no gods before You.

The real Bethel

Today began at the crucifixion and resurrection site of Jesus on the Mount of Olives. I choose to believe that where new olive trees are growing over dead ones to produce even more olives...something special must've happened there hence only fruitfulness can take place in that land. The testimony is in the olive trees that can't die.

I went to Shiloh the place Hannah prayed for Samuel. I went to Bethel the place God promised Abraham the land. The ability to look and see determines what we will have faith for. It is also the place of angels ascending and descending. I ate the biggest grapes I have ever seen with my eyes. They reminded me of the spies that were sent to have a look at the promised land. I have tasted and seen that the land is indeed GOOD!!!