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apartheid

ACROSS THE VELDT

David Selzer By David Selzer3 Comments1 min read1.8K views

For Sizwe Vilakazi

 

Fearing electricity – only installed

in rural Kwazulu post-Apartheid –

would disturb and thus devalue their cattle

the village elders decided it should come

no closer than the main road to Bergville,

a mile or so from their scattered houses.

 

Though the night sky, with its myriads

and myriads of stars, stayed above

the ancestors’ houses unpolluted,

in time there were fewer cattle, fewer folk.

Young people still left for the townships.

 

***

 

On our last morning, the family’s

little girl and her younger brother took us

across the veldt to their uncle’s kraal

to see newly born twin calves. The children,

on the dirt path through high dry grasses,

moved like silence, but we, clumsy townies,

raised a flock of plovers. The spindly calves

were suckling, and watched us with startled,

curious eyes, their mother impassive.

 

***

 

As we drove north on the Bergville road

to join the N3 we passed a primary school

with a Coca Cola sponsored sign,

and slowly over the Drakensberg mountains

winter’s first clouds appeared.

 

 

 

 

SIMONSTOWN, FALSE BAY, SOUTH AFRICA

Where the dual carriageway to Simonstown

is nearest the bay some cars were parked

on the hard shoulder and some folk were standing

on the stony beach. A Southern Right Whale

had calved near the shallows. We stood with strangers,

in the silence, watching the suckling baby

and the mother in their huge gentleness.

 

False Bay is wide as a sea, as deep,

so-called because sailors without charts

thought it was Table Bay twenty miles west.

Simonstown was one of the last to accede

to Apartheid. A colonial port,

way station to the East, British dockyard,

it became a diverse place of Dutchmen

and Lascars, Jews and Muslims, entrepreneurs

and runaways, Xhosa guides, and Khoisan

strayed the few miles from the heather of the Cape.

 

Opposite our guesthouse was a cove where whales,

at the end of the breeding season, came,

like ships of the line, to scrape off barnacles,

before their journey to the sounding oceans.

 

As we left town we passed the main car park,

and, at its edge, eight young men in white

and navy blue from Khayelitsha township

singing a capella: ‘Nkosi

sikelel’ iAfrika’.

 

 

THE MUSEUMS

David Selzer By David Selzer3 Comments1 min read1.9K views

For Sizwe Vilakazi

 

ROBBEN ISLAND, CAPE TOWN

 

Except when the Atlantic fog surprises,

from high ground in the city the island

is present like a leviathan,

its lights at night like white phosphorous,

a place of banishment since the first ships,

among seals and penguins.

 

DISTRICT SIX, CAPE TOWN

 

Razing its streets, clearing this cosmopolis

of Asians, atheists, Blacks, booksellers,

Buddhists, Christians, Coloureds, cooks, Hindus, Jews,

musicians, Muslims, seafarers, Whites,

this is what it was all about – the racial

myths, the scorn, the humiliation,

the torture, the killings – to justify

the theft of property.

 

APARTHEID, FREEDOM PARK, JOHANNESBURG

 

Beneath the Pillars of the Constitution,

in the gardens the weaver birds are knitting

their elaborate nests from grass and reeds

precariously over water.

 

Inside is the Mercedes workers hand built

for Mandela, and a BAE designed

troop-carrying Casspir, mine and bullet proof,

to patrol the townships.

 

HECTOR PIETERSON, ORLANDO WEST, SOWETO

 

When the school children took to the dirt streets

in their uniforms and walked as one

towards the dogs and the guns and the police,

did each of their rulers secretly know

they were finished – not then or that year

but in time however many they maimed,

and killed and tortured in front of cameras –

yet kept it to themselves? Did they believe

really that righteous anger would, could

be suppressed forever?