ISSN 2304-8107

poems for freedom

2014 | 02
print quarterly number six
www.poetrypotion.com
Copyright 2014 by Black Letter Media and the respective poets

ISSN 2304-8107

editor & publisher

duduzile zamantungwa mabaso
zamantungwa@poetrypotion.com

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cover image: “freedom”, is a derivative of “In Flight” by Don McCullough,
used under CC BY, via Flickr
Maya Angelou image is a derivative of “Maya Angelou” by Adria Richards
[CC-BY-SA-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via
Wikimedia Commons

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 Contents
Editorial 4

Poet Muse
Maya Angelou 7

Poet Profile
Naledi Raba: poetry of self-determination 8

Poetry
Carla Chait - the home I know 23
Mapule Mohulatsi - Butterfly Burning 24
Charl Landsberg - Slowly Unchained 25
Fasaha Mshairi - Skipping 26
Love Shackles 28
Thompson Charlie - More Nothing My Own 30
Rodney Roskruge - temporally free 32
Ravona - It vs. Freedom 34

Q&A
Vuyelwa Maluleke_ the licence to poetic freedom 36

Poetry Seen
Twelve + One 42

Writer’s Block
Cultural identity trapped between colonial margins 46

Contributors 58
Submissions Guidelines 60
Stockists 62
Editorial
“Freedom? You’re asking me about freedom? I can tell
you about what freedom isn’t…”
...Assata Shakur speaks at the end of the song that Common
dedicated to her Song for Assata.
What do we know about what freedom is?
We sure know what it isn’t. This is the challenge I set out
for my fellow poets. And I suppose while anticipating what kind
of poems would come out of poets ruminating on freedom, I
figured what we know of freedom is only what we can dream
of. Out of knowing what freedom isn’t and from glimpsing,
through various struggles for freedom around the world, we
may begin to imagine what freedom is.
But is freedom one thing? No, Maya Angelou spoke a
freedom in Still I Rise when she wrote,
“You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.”
And Sipho Sepamla wrote,
“At the dawn of another day
some people were trudging frantic
to work
to rent-offices
to pass-offices...”

6
 The poem, At the Dawn of Another Day, goes on capturing
the battle against the unfreedom that the youth of ‘76 exploded
against.
Even Basho, expressed a freedom that many of us fear in
this haiku
“Sick on my journey,
only my dreams will wander
these desolate moors”
So in this edition, the poets I interviewed, the poems
published all discuss, explore freedom in an interesting way.
Even just the act of writing and perform is a kind of freedom
that some can’t enjoy. I profiled, Naledi “Deigh Poetic” Raba,
a young poet from Cape Town who won the 2013 Drama For
Life Lover + Another. Naledi’s gentle yet confrontational
poetry explores identity, love, humanity through the gender
and sexuality lens.
Also featured is Vuyelwa Maluleke recently shortlisted for
the second University of Brunel African Poetry Prize. She talks
about how poetry lets her take control of the story that she
wants to tell.
And then award winning poet, David Maahlamela discusses
the politics of language and how they impact on culture an the
freedom of expressing ones cultural identity.
The poems featured here, respond to the theme of Poems
for Freedom in interesting and diverse ways. I hope that you
enjoy them as I have. We have written, now you reader, take
control of this story.
zamantungwa
editor.

7
Poet Muse

8
Maya Angelou
(poet, writer, dancer, singer, teacher, producer, playwright, activist
1928 – 2014)
Born Marguerite Annie Johnson, Maya Angelou was a
multidimensional human. A multitalented woman and a gift to
us all. She lived a life so full, so true to herself, and in her own
terms that she inspired many to find their truth.
Described by some as the “Black Woman’s poet laureate”,
Maya Angelou gave voice and language to the experiences
of black women the world over. Through poems such as
Phenomenal Woman and Still I Rise she reminded all women
to claim their experiences. She wrote poems for presidents, for
ordinary people even for herself.
Though she never went to college, she was greatly honoured
with fifty honorary degrees by various universities and later in
life preferred to be addressed as Dr Maya Angelou. She won
the Pulitzer Prize for her book of poems Just Give Me a Cool
Drink of Water ‘fore I Diiie, a Tony Away for her play Look Away
and three Grammys for her spoken word albums.
Her work is used in education, in films, in various women’s
movements. Even though she was in poor health just before
her passing, she was said to have many plans for work, for
parties and Life!
The caged bird has flown away...
9
Poet Profile

Naledi Raba
poetry of self-determination
10
 I meet Naledi in her hotel room, it is the morning after she
won that national Lover + Another Poetry Challenge hosted
by Drama For Life at the Hillbrow Theatre. “It is Naledi Raba,
right?” I ask checking that I’m pronouncing her name correctly.
“Yes,” she says smiling and explains that she is Sotho but born
and raised in Cape town. Although she understands Sotho she
doesn’t speak it as well.
We settle into the interview and I ask her about herself. How
did you came to poetry?
“I started writing... I’ve always been a reading-writing type
of person. I’ve always liked to read, I’ve always liked to write.
Poetry was the one thing that I was able to use, almost, as
an escape. We all grow up and have stories to tell and I grew
up in a township, eNyanga one of the most violent townships
in Cape Town. And family life, as well, wasn’t as amazing. My
dad was an alcoholic. So poetry was my way of trying to find
an escape and have a little place for me, where I could be at
peace with myself. So I started writing and I think it started
being more serious in high school because then I feel like my
content became richer, more real and raw.”
Writers are always telling stories, but we don’t always know
what is it that we’re doing so we imitate tv stories, or what we
read. I ask Naledi what she thought she was doing before she
knew she was writing poetry.
“Before, it felt like I was just writing, I knew what poetry
was, like Shakespeare but I didn’t understand that I could write
a story about me and it could be poetry. I didn’t think I could
write poetry. I just figured I was writing, I was sharing, putting
down feelings on paper and that’s all it was. When my English
teacher, one of my favourite teachers ever, read my essays
she told me I was a good writer and asked if I wrote other

11
things on the side and it started from there. I realised that this
is poetry. A lot of people started reading my pieces and my
work and they were like, ‘this is poetry.’”
“And then sharing and getting on the stage?”
“It was never a plan of mine. I have always wanted to be
just a poet on paper, let other people [perform], and [I] just
publish. I never thought the stage is for me because I didn’t
even... I don’t know. I love to read my pieces, even when I
perform in small places, I will just want to read. I went to New
York in 2008, I was in grade 11. I think I was on stage for the
first or second time there and even then I was reading on
the stage but then one of the mentors at the camp said, ‘You
weren’t reading that page, you were reciting. You just held it
there for comfort.’ From then I decided, ok, put the book down.
Lets learn, lets memorise [the words], let’s be on stage. From
there on, I’ve been performing on stage.”
I ask her to elaborate on the New York trip. “It was a
camp with people from different cultures and religions getting
together to educate each other. So we used art as a form
of expression. Some people were dancers, some people were
poets, doing drama so then we had a poetry showcase.”
On the morning of the interview I listened to some of her
poems found online as well as what I had captured from her
DFL performance the previous night. “What I find interesting
about your voice, and even your performance, [is that] you
stand still you don’t do a lot of things like other people move
around… and you don’t, which kind of draws a person in.
But there’s this thing that you do with your voice, I don’t know
what to call it. It sounds interesting, because it’s confessional
poetry, it feels like you’re about to break down and burst into
tears. (She laughs.) Are you conscious of that?”

12
 “No. I feel like when I get on stage and recite, I become,
not another person. I become Naledi, I become Deigh Poetic. I
become myself, and a person I don’t necessarily show to other
people. I think a lot of people know me as the sort of person
who’s not approachable. So I think, on stage I get fragile. It
scares even me, a bit; I can’t explain it. A lot of people tell me
about it (the fragile voice) - I’m not conscious of it. But every
time I share a piece especially when it’s a piece that’s really
close to me, or because of something that has happened to
close friends of mine, it just brings up situations and then I
kind of relive [them] on stage. Which is why I think I love stage
more.”
“So now do you love stage more than the page?”
“I do, I do. I still appreciate writing [on paper] because I
believe every piece deserves to be on stage but if I read it
and I don’t like the way it sounds then I wouldn’t necessarily
perform it. I think that pen and paper is still very important
[but] stage allows people to get to know me.”
I ask her about the stage name, Deigh Poetic. “So my name
is Naledi and at the end it’s ‘di’. I grew up with people call me
Di and so because of poetry, and since high school, everyone
has seen me as this little poetic one. If there’s an event at
school they’ll ask me to write a poem for the awards ceremony
or write a poem for church or write this… Then people were
like ‘you’re very poetic.’ I still wanted to keep being Di because
I write a lot from how I’ve grown up. So I thought ‘Deigh’ and
everyone, whenever they think Naledi it’s ‘the poetic one’ so I
thought ‘Deigh Poetic’ and that was it.”
“Tell me about the poems that you performed at the DFL
finals. Very sensitive subject matter, very pointed language,
very confrontational as well. I hear you also speaking about

13
church. Tell me about the process of writing those poems and
being able to perform those poems in front of people that may
be offended. [Some people] may get you or not get you.”
“I always feel very… not worried, but I’m very wary about
performing pieces like that because most of my pieces are very
angry. I’m in your face, I want you to listen and you will listen to
me. And I’m always wary about that but those two pieces: To
Whom It may Concern, I’m bisexual and I’ve been with women
more than I have been with men, and this year I lost two of my
friends, who I grew up with, to hate crimes. One was shot and
one was kidnapped for a year, raped and put in a bin. We found
her this year. So I wrote it for them because they will ever be
able to write it for themselves. And with, I Know You Said No,
when I heard about, I think Sihle is her name, the lesbian who
was raped and they put a toilet brush in her vagina, and also
my friend who was found in a bin, when they checked her body
she had been raped multiple times and it was a guy living on
the same street [as her]… so those two pieces for me are in
my heart. Sometimes I write in such a way that some poetry
lovers who are more conservative could feel like … you know.
And even Christian people, I don’t perform at church anymore.
I’m Roman Catholic and, obviously, the language… And I’m not
into editing my pieces to suit certain situations, [it’s] one of
the reasons I don’t perform in church any more.
“I think the one thing I appreciate [the most] about this
DFL [competition is that] when I sent my poems I was like
‘read them, can you see what’s going on? I say what it is, the
way it is. Is this allowed?’ And they DFL organisers said, ‘[this
is] a free space’.”
“To Whom It May Concern/ My first love is a woman
and if you’re wondering I am one too/ I know you

14
 would never understand but there’s something so real
to me/ about waking up to the sound of a heartbeat
under breasts than any other chest...”
I ask her to talk a bit more about where she draws her
inspiration and subject matter from and if all her work is
confessional. “It depends - different
pieces for different things. To Whom
It May Concern is very confessional.
My family is very Christian based. My
parents are Methodist and I went
to a girl school and you’re going
experience stuff. I made a conscious
decision that I do love women and it’s
something I wanted to speak about
because people don’t want to hear
about that. So for my subject matter, I
write about things that happen to me
personally. So To Whom It May Concern
is a confession from Naledi, and then
I write for everyone else who relates
in this story. I also try to respond and
react to political things that happen.
I try to be an activist in my poetry
because I think art is very… people
don’t realise the power of art and
activism. And [I’m focused on] gender
inequality and sexuality issues. Other
people love politics and religion but for me, I think sexuality
and gender issues are right in the core of everything else.”
“When you perform work that plays in that space the ‘I’ in
the poem isn’t necessarily you. You might write a poem that is

15
completely removed from yourself and when you perform it in
public, people think the ‘I’ is you. Have you ever had to defend
or explain the ‘I’ in your poem?”
“Yesterday, I ran into a lady who was in the audience and
she told me that the poem I Know You Said No took her back
because it was a real experience for her. I wrote I Know You
Said No for someone else. So I had to say, “thank you for going
there with me but it was for someone else.” After I wrote To
Whom It May Concern, it was like I was coming out as a lesbian
so a lot of people were like, ‘you’re my role model. Don’t you
know Naledi, the gay girl, she wrote To Whom It May Concern’.
In Cape Town, the poem went viral and that’s how people know
me. My brother was like ‘Oh I heard you date girls, I heard your
poem’ and I was like ‘well my first love was a women but I didn’t
say I’m only with women’. I think sometimes people take parts
that relate to them but then they relate them to me as well
because I’m the writer of the piece. Sometimes, yeah, I have
to just clear it up, even to people I’m close to. Especially with
To Whom It May Concern. I had to make it clear that ‘yes, I’m
there but just remember that it’s not always [me]… by writing
my poems I’m writing for you as well but it doesn’t necessarily
have to be something I went through for it to be a real piece.’”
“I promise I said no / but I realise when you’re
crippled in front of a broken man/ with nothing
but skin and scars protecting you/ they become
delusional/ thinking that your bites and your scratches
and your screams and your scars/ will somehow
circumcise them back into shape/ this time around/ I
did say no...”
“What made you want to enter this competition?”
“I didn’t even know about it. Not that I’m an anti-slam person
16
but I’ve never considered myself to be a slam poet because
it’s depicted to be a very dramatic and I’m this little fragile
person. I’m more of a gig at a chilled event kinda person. I’ve
never [thought] myself [able] to do slam poetry. Mbongeni,
who’s my coordinator, told me about [the DFL competition].
The theme made him think of me and he said to try it out.
And I did. At the regionals, I was still sceptical because people
were slamming and I got on stage with my little husky voice
‘hi guys’ and everyone was thinking ‘what is she gonna do’.
Then I came second and I realised this is actually real. And
now when we talk about it we stick to saying is the DFL Lover
+ Another Poetry Challenge. Try to take away “slam” because
it creates a certain stereotype and kinda takes a few other
people away. When I hear slam, I’m just like ‘nuh-uh’.
“When you came to the final were you revved up, pumped
up telling yourself that you’re going to win because well it’s a
competition!”
“When I met the [other] competitors, people were reciting
their stuff and I still wasn’t sure if my type of poetry was
gonna make it through. I was wishing that as this fragile,
confrontational yet emotional poet, [I could] come in and show
[everyone] that slam could be raw like this, slam could be
emotional like this. So I did come in thinking that even if I don’t
win, I wanted to make that impact. I wanted someone who
writes like me or someone who feels like this is their type of art
to feel like they can enter a competition. My coordinator kept
on the telling me that having made it to nationals I could win
but I didn’t really think so. I’m confident in myself but I didn’t
think that my type of delivery would be considered slam. But
I knew I [had] definitely come to a competition and I wanted
to make an impact. I think, as cliché as it sounds, the most

17
importantly thing, I just wanted to get out there and see if
a different crowd of people which is Jo’burg, cause I’ve only
performed in Cape Town, would appreciate it.”
“And how do you feel now?”
“I feel like they did. That was the main thing for me.
Even when I got up [on stage] the second time and people
remembered me from the first poem I felt, ‘they know me now,
they know Deigh Poetic, they know Naledi’. Now, going into the
second round, I wanted to make them proud of me. Because I
had made them look at me, know me, I wanted to make them
proud.”
“Now that DFL is done, what is up with Deigh Poetic, where
are you heading with your work?”
“With my whole poetry life, I don’t have a set plan. I want
to perform some more. I feel that there’s so much more that I
can still learn and I’m not as well known as I’d like to be outside
of Cape Town. I want to venture out and perform in Jo’burg,
Durban and get myself known.
I find myself to be writing a lot more pieces now which I
don’t get to perform and I, maybe I’m giving too much, but
I’d really like to publish. Start out lightly just one poem here,
and one poem there… but eventually, before I’m twenty-five
I wanna have a collection out, by Deigh Poetic. I think for me
that would be my biggest goal. I think some people don’t get a
chance to come to watch poetry because they think, there’s a
certain aura or a certain type of person who sits in a poetry
audience so maybe they will appreciate reading it.
“How far away is twenty-five?”
“I’m twenty one, I have a lot of time to perform, a lot of
time to write some more. I think my pieces [will] branch out
18
to different issues, other issues I haven’t written about and try
those out.”
“You’re studying at the moment?”
“Yes, I’m studying at the moment, at UCT. I’m studying
Psychology and Gender studies. I’m graduating this year.”
Psychology and poetry make for an interesting combination,
I wonder about the marriage and even separation, how they
complement each other.
“I’m studying psychology because I love people. I’m
interested in the way people think. I think they definitely
complement each other but in a way, there’s a little
contradiction. I know my parents wanted me to study but I
think, [this is] a recent realisation, that we don’t all always
have the luxury of studying what we want. I think if I had the
choice I would’ve studied poetry. If there was a degree in
poetry studies I would’ve done it. But we don’t always have the
luxury of studying what we want but we can become our truth.
And for me my truth is poetry. That’s who I wanna be. But I also
love psychology. I want to have that degree and maybe I’ll be a
performing artist and have the degree or I’ll become a clinical
psychologist and still perform. But it’s two things that I’m going
to make possible. Whether they fight with each other or not, it’s
two things I really want.”
“Writer’s block. Do you ever experience writer’s block and
how do you deal with it?”
“I never sit down and plan to write a piece. My pieces come
at very strange moments. I work at the university library so
I’ll be at the front desk and a piece will come to me and I’ll
write it. If while I’m writing I get writer’s block, I try not to
force anything, like making words link to each other. If it’s not

19
working at that moment I leave it. I feel like when the time
comes for it to come back I’ll finish it. But obviously if there’s
a gig that I’m planning for and I really wanted to perform this
piece, I always listen to poetry and it kinda relaxes me and I get
back to the space I was in and I write again.”
“Who are the poets that you’ve read, or seen performing
that you’re inspired by?”
“There’s a guy, brother in poetry, Native Refugee, he’s a
Capetonian spoken word artist and rapper. He’s amazing. I’ve
seen him perform and he’s kinda like me in a weird way – [he
has an] emotional and fragile way of delivery. Another poet
is Kyle Louw, he was also in the competition, he’s also really
amazing. Then, I haven’t seen her perform live I’ve only seen
her on youtube, King Nova. I think she’s really amazing.
“What is it about Nova that you like.”
“I was performing at this other show and this random guy
comes to me, he’s from Rhodes and he said I perform like
Nova but ‘you’re just more angry’. I think when I listen to her
pieces there’s a sense of… I like poets that demand you listen
to them. With Nova, one line, second line, third line, you can’t
do anything else but listen. I respect that in a poet, to be able
to get on stage and get it and own it and make it yours. I like
her language use; I like her play on words. I like poets who,
after they finish performing, you leave and you’re still thinking
about them. To Do List for Africa is the first poem I heard from
Nova.”
I decide to put her on the spot and ask her what she
thought of her competitors, particularly their content. Her
eyes grow big and I laugh, “Well you come here [to compete],
you’re particularly interested in gender politics and the

20
intersectionality of our lives. The interesting thing for me was
that there were very different opinions and I’ve been thinking
that I don’t know if as a judge I’d let that poet through not
because they suck as a poet but I’m thinking ‘did you just say
that?’ So when you listened to the other poets, what did you
think and feel.”
“I noticed was that it was clear to see which corners we
were coming from. It was clear to see that for some it’s a
personal thing, for others, it’s an opinion or a reaction.
But there were poets who were telling a story, their story,
because they were the theme and there were poets who were
performing in response to the theme. That’s what I noticed.
There was a clear line between poets who were the theme
and poets who were replying to the theme. And by being the
theme, being Man.Woman.Any.Queer(ies), specifically, queers
and queries… so it was clear, I could see who was who.”
“About activism and poetry, how much do you think as
poets and as writers we can be part of the activist movement
and make an impact? Are you able ever, to gage from your own
work, and feel like by writing and performing this poem I have
hopefully done this…”
“I think there is space for activism and creating an impact
but at the same time, usually I feel like we’re preaching to
the converted. If I’m performing To Whom It May Concern,
I’m probably going to perform it to people that maybe have
experienced hate crime or are LGBTI but I’m not going to
go into a space of people that are anti-LGBTI and perform
To Whom It May Concern so that they could get where these
people are coming from. So I think, I’m trying to be an activist
but [I] still battle [to] going to the spaces I know I need to
go to for the activism to make an impact. Being at UJ or UCT,

21
you’re performing and creating an impact for people who are
more likely to be aware of the situation.
“[We need to] go to a township where people are less
informed about it, they don’t understand poetry but I think
they’ll get the message. I think us, writers, performers, poets,
we’re trying but not in the spaces that we need to go. And I
think we know the space we need to go to we’re just not sure
about the reaction from those spaces. That’s something even
I need to work on. That’s what activism is about. Going to the
spaces where you know you’re not expected to. Not the spaces
where you’ll get an applause and encouragement by people
who have heard it already.
We’re trying though.”

Naledi blogs at deighpoetic.tumblr.com

22
Poetry

24
the home I know
Carla Chait

the home I know

is dry as
has been lit aflame
smoked and scorched
chewed up
swallowed up
sick up and spat out
measured out
found to be wanting
traced out
crossed out, cut out
pencilled back in
and rewritten,

the home I know

is full-up
has been tipped
poured
and measured
re-wetted
and watered
remembered
the place I know
home

25
Butterfly Burning
Mapule Mohulatsi

I am a butterfly burning.
My wings are strangely stitched, tattered at the corners and
hard to breathe
My weight is of a flying feather fluttering to be painted in
landscapes.
Burning,
Wounded.
A butterfly burning in the bloodied heat of a collectors bloodied
feet.
My wings are stitched to satanic holes incessantly stuttering
prayers to zenith concubines and heavenly sighs that have
been smothering in Satoa’s Sun.
I am Idemili’s Daughter
I am Brightly coloured and beautiful with painted lips.
When you paint of me, you’ll see me.
You’ll put light into the crescendo of my fluttering heights;
Resplendent and iridescent, my eyes are woven with the tales
of sages
Centuries have outlived themselves screaming of the seams
tying me to a satanic pits.
When men see me they hover and wait
Stutter and wish to whisper
To touch
In the abyss of my consciousness.

26
Slowly Unchained
Charl Landsberg

he died to me, some time ago, long after I was free

and I still have his chains about my neck, as you can see
he never let me know where I could hope to find the key
to break these chains that keep his hate imprisoned inside me

so freedom came and there I was all chained about my skin

try as I might, to wrest and fight, to overcome and win
I hope a day brings quiet here to suffocate that din
his angry voice still branding me with stigma, shame and sin

his angry hand still leaves that mark where once he struck my
face
his angry boot still cracks the bone where once I learnt my
place
and still I feel his hateful words consume my every space
the dog-like-son to god-like-dad, him gone without a trace

but freedom comes like reveille to move the night to day

each day, my task, to chisel, etch, and scrape these bonds
away
to leave a scratch on every rock to show my friends the way
that we are not alone out there, whatever “gods” may say

27
Skipping
Fasaha Mshairi

Limitless
Stings
Frowns
Dark at heart
Saddened us
Weakened eyes
Shadowed sight
Mirrors lie
Insides out
Outsides still
Pupils dilate
See no further than electronics
Blinded love
Loving things
Inhuman beings
Silly schemes
Running slow
Walking fast
Motionless
Moving in circles
Lost…
STOP.
Silly
Things breeding
Opulent
Poverty.

28
MOVE.
Standing
Stagnant
Now crashing.
Dead.
Words resurrected.
Break
Rebel
Freedom consumed
Still.
Live.

29
Love Shackles
She’s constantly praying for a day
When she will treat your heavy sketching on her chest
As gentle hands attempting to tickle her soul.
She’s learning to stop crying to your words.
She’s recalling her face.
She’s shooting at the mirror...
The mirror breaks her reflection.
Her reflection breaks away from the shattering mirror.
Society lost its voice.
She’s alone.
The air is naked.
She’s dressing the ambiance with tears.
She’s washing dirty laundry in a packed coliseum.
She’s dancing.
Falling.
She’s begging.
Praying.
She’s tearing your calligraphy with rage.
She’s running.
She’s learning to become blind to your drawings.
She’s scrubbing your presence off her skin.
She’s dying off your absence.
Your absence is killing her.
Your absence brings flashbacks of your presence.
She’s crying out your memories.
She’s reciting redemption poems.
She’s unshackling her soul from your thoughts.

30
She’s dancing away your stereotypes.
Her mind wears freedom for the first time.
It smells like childhood.
She’s speaking her mind.
She’s dancing.
Jumping.
She’s free’d.
Loving.

31
More Nothing My Own
Thompson Charlie

There is more nothing my own

Than the freedom of my heart
The pulse that searches
The wilderness for the tame
There is no wall more confining
Till to the cold wide sea
I am forced to stand in awe
The sun of Afrika all over me
Shining like a fire of gold
Smiles of warm souls
warriors and pretty daughters
From Cape to Cairo
All the enchanting benevolence
Stirs my pride

There is more nothing my own

Than the colour of my skin
The blood poured out of Zanzibar
The energy and sweat stolen
And wasted across the rude seas
I who came out of that was left
From the Cameroonian high lands
The tiny spark all Afrikan
Blossoming fire of the flame lily
Grain-wisdom of natal red top
Spec in scattered confusion

32
Of colonial configuration
I draw my warrior blood
From the mighty Nile
And saliva of my tongue
Out of the Zambezi

There is more nothing my own

Than the caves of my ancestors
The living grace of Ubuntu
A carpet of cushion spread soft
Preaching, warring against tyranny
And dancing the naked rhythm
Of the wild and soft
O! the peace of slumbering villages
Either on hard rock or pavement
In tears or happiness
Afrika is my home

33
temporally free
Rodney Roskruge

Thomas Sankara died for ideas

which still live on
today, tomorrow
red carpets for red berets
which can not stand upright
weighed down by tender bellies
made from Egypt, France and others
punching the air
screaming I will take back what is mines
driving what is not theirs
destroying then rebuilding on greener pastures
watered with blood
maintained by ancestral gardeners still trapped
underground
after retiring from the mines
gold-digging
digging for gold
which will never be theirs
T.B housed
by these lives
easily shared by those who wait for these
RDP houses
red for redical change
wood for woodwork on zincs in shacks
tapping into the rage of teens
side effects from ANC pills

34
running impatient
off-beat to the fast paced drum in the intestines
obsessed with yellow bones
cheers! echoes louder on a 200 rand glass
action does speak louder than words
money talks,french
how much does Africa owe France in taxes
how much does France owe SA for dissecting and slicing Sarah
Baartman
for polishing and show casing her private parts and butt
publicly
how much did Claire magazine owe Boity
to polish and show case her private parts and butt
publicly
public figures selling private parts
aborters making a living by killing the living
gravediggers living off the non-living
maybe freedom is a nano-second
when the armed clock hits 12
and left for 1
a second which stuck in our minds
splitting the political struggle
and introducing us to the economical struggle
maybe freedom is in the mind
a high
we once tasted when he punched the air
with Winnie in hand
recovering South Africans trying hard to relapse

35
It vs. Freedom
Ravona

A hankering beast set out, just behind me

It was birthed to this world seconds after my cord was snipped
Life became my own
And always shared with It

It breathes heavy on my neck

The condensed droplets of its life filling up my space
Wading through its want of me
My legs have often given way
To drown in my follower

It is never but a few steps behind

Carrying its attracting light, casting ahead of me
I constantly look back to It, to consult the only knowledge I
know
Seeking wisdom in experience
Only then to be devoured by fanged poison

Seeped through my veins

It then revolted on my brain, my thoughts are under siege
There’s no defence against yourself
Hung paralytic in the past, It owns me

As It enveloped me
I glimpsed to a scene of craving and want
Perfumed air followed a sun path

36
That led to unclarity
There was no distinct destination, no tangible expectation
Nothing marred by a muggy shadow
“Welcome to Freedom”

Paused, to read those words, It caught me

And swallowed me whole
The scene vanished, in the stewed juices of Its consuming belly
I broke down, digested by Its meaning
Captive to my past and once again surrendered

37
Q&A
Vuyelwa Maluleke
the licence to poetic freedom

38
 Vuyelwa Maluleke is a Wits Drama graduate who has found
her artistic home in poetry because it gave her the licence to
create and direct the story. She has been a storyteller and an
avid reader since she was a young. Vuyelwa uses her poetry
tell the story of the women she sees all around her… Vuyelwa
made a name for herselve by competing as a performance
poet on platforms like Word N Sound in Johannesburg. As a
recent Brunel University African Poetry Prize “shortlistee”,
Vuyelwa’s voice is set to resound around the world. Poetry
Potion quizzed her about her craft.

“we are people too not just bodies…”

Poetry Potion: How did you come to poetry or how did

poetry find you?
Vuyelwa Maluleke: I consider myself a storyteller, be it
in my acting or poetry. Poetry gives you the words for your
own stories; it is the most liberating, solitary experience. But
my poetry arises whenever I speak to someone and think ‘you
are [an] asshole because...’ and ‘oh, this is how we hurt each
other’. When I feel like I haven’t heard that character tell that
story that’s when I reach for poetry.

PP: Can you remember the first poem you shared in a

public setting? What made you sure, pushed you to get up and
say this is my poem? Talk about what the poem was about and
how you felt.
VM: Sure, I’ve had many failed starts, embarrassed myself
so much. I’m ducking under [the table] just thinking about all
of it. In my first year of varsity, I was a terrible cliché but that is
39
how you begin. It is how you find your voice, while you read the
good stuff. There was a poem, ‘dear ex lover’, and [I] doused
the audience [with] mediocre poetry, but I loved it enough and
then I forgot the lines mid performance because there are no
cliff notes in slam. After every try I said ‘you can do better, let
people hear you do better by their stories’ and that is what I
try [to do], always.

PP: You were recently shortlisted for the Brunel University

African Poetry Prize, how did you feel when you were told?
VM: The Brunel University African Poetry Prize was [an]
affirm[ation] of my work and my attempts. I was very grateful
and blessed by it. It made me feel like I could show my parents
something concrete, at last, and say “see, people will read
your stories”. I’m a black woman writer, with old school parents
who allow me to be an artist and believe [in] it.
I was grateful.

PP: One of the shortlisted poems is My Mother Says; is it

one of your favourites? Talk about what inspired it and what
are your hopes for it
“My mother says

you do not need a gun to hurt him

do it when you are a sober morning
when your voice is as beautiful as a broken violin
make it go further than your nails under his skin…”
VM: I hate to say what it’s about, that poem. I feel like it
stops people from getting what they want from it. But it’s about

40
a friend, and love, and mistakes.

PP: One of your poems, about choosing names that rare

difficult, Big School, is one of my favourite poems. It’s such
a powerful poem that always reminds me of Magoleng wa
Selepe’s My Name and a few other personal experiences.
“Look what they have done to my name…
The wonderful name of my great-great-grandmothers
Nomgqibelo Ncamisile Mnqhibisa

The burly bureaucrat was surprised.

What he heard was music to his ears
‘Wat is daai, sê nou weer?’”
What inspired Big School? And do people usually go insane
after hearing?
“Today, her misty glasses are lowered for a scowl at
you as she asks,
‘What is your name?’
her voices flows through the folds of cake and tea and
her neck to you
but you’ve practiced saying your name on a
playground with friends…”
VM: Well it depends, if the audience is black, and their
names are in one of our vernacular languages they are the
story. If they are white and they are a Michelle, and have asked
black children ‘for an easier name’ they are the student and
the lesson. Sometimes people don’t like to hear the ‘this is how
you offend me, make me small’ talk

41
 “…
you answer through custard cheeks with your parents
promise for you
and when they ask for something easier know that all
promises worth making
should dry your mouth out and you are a language
without acronyms…”

PP: I know you as a performance poet, when you perform

your poetry, what is it that you hope to achieve? Is performance
a big part of your life?
VM: I love performance; it is the one time I get to share my
solitary life. Share the stories. If people leave with the thought
‘I hate it because’ or ‘I love it because’ it means they listened.
They were moved to a response, a no or a yes
Performance poetry is part of the dream, always. But this
year has been filled with acting, shooting and auditioning. I’m a
trained actor so that is my bread and butter. I want performance
poetry to be the dream and the food, but it’s not there yet.

PP: Will we see a book, or anything in print one the days?

VM: Well...there is talk of a chapbook. I will shout about it
when it’s done.

“to the plus size girl I once was

the full cream, double thick and then some girl
the girl I barely see on bill boards, that size sixteen
girl

42
 honey, I wish someone could’ve told you just once that
you’re a wonder…”

PP: Now that you can add, the Poetry Prize shortlisting in
your bag of achievements, what else are you looking to do
next - more prizes, or?
VM: I don’t know. As long as I’m making work, telling
stories…

Follow Vuyelwa on twitter, @vee_m_words to find out

where she’s performing next

43
Poetry Seen
Twelve + One
a review by zamantungwa

Title: Twelve + One. Some

Jo’burg poets: their artistic lives
and poetry
Edited by: Mike Alfred
Publisher: Botsotso Publishing
Year: 2014

Botsotso Publishing is best known for its literary

journal, Botsotso as well as numerous poetry titles and the
performances by its founders Botsotso Jesters. What many
don’t know is that they also publish plays and short stories
which can be found online at bookloversmarket.com.
But this review isn’t about all those titles; it’s about one
unique poetry title that aims to do more than just present
poetry in print. Their latest title is Twelve + One.
Twelve because the initial concept was for only eleven
profiles but then Allan Kolski Horwitz, the publisher insisted
that Mike Alfred, the editor to also be profiled and he “wanted
to include a young woman poet who gives a lot of insight into
the burgeoning Spoken Word scene”.
This book was borne out of the idea that “most poets
living around the corner in Johannesburg, as is their poetry,
are largely ignored.” Contemporary poetry is largely ignored

44
by the academy and publishers steer clear of it for its lack of
profitability. Here, Mike Alfred aims to “give our local, neglected
poets, a ‘louder’ voice.”
The book features interviews and poems, which give insight
to how the poets approach their craft, find inspiration and
create. Alfred turns the spotlight and delves into the lives of
the poets called Siphiwe, Gail, Ahmed, Phillippa, Lebohang,
Jane, Frank, Ike, Lionel, Makhosazana and Allan. From their
beginnings, whether their love for words was sparked by
bedtime stories or pulp fiction or a great teacher, the editor
attempted to give each poet the respect to tell their own story.
What’s lovely about this collection is that these poets
are from various backgrounds and varying ages. The first
poet, Jane Fox, perhaps the oldest poet in the collection,
has been working with writers for decades. Described as a
“trim, strong, feisty, seventy-something”, Jane Fox has never
thought of herself as a poet, “I’ve always thought that poetry
is something I do on the side.” She shares a few of her poems
but the one she says she’s most proud of is “On Seeing Dawn
Over the Vlei At Waylands Farm”, a sonnet in tribute to her late
husband, Lionel Abrahams. It was written on the morning after
he passed away.
“The bird above lives, breathes, will on day die;
its copy waits below, life hath it none”

Fox attributes her growth and love for poetry to her late
husband, Lionel Abrahams, who also played a big part in the
development and publishing of writers and poets such as
Oswald Mtshali, Zachariah Rapola and Graeme Friedman.
Ike Mboneni Muila’s interview is another standout interview
for me. One third of the surviving Botsotso Jesters, Muila
45
creates poetry using multiple official and unofficial South African
languages. His is a story of triumph, resilience and brilliance.
An alumnus of the Soyikwa Institute of African theatre, Funda
Centre and Market Theatre Lab, Muila brings his training as
an actor to performance poetry. He doesn’t, however, consider
himself a performance poet, “I started as a creative writer, as
a student of drama… When I’m asked if I’m a poet I grin from
ear to ear. I’m just a creative writer.”
“blomer
blomer madala
ek is ’n ou taxin terries
binne in di toene
change deurdlana
op en af
blomer madala…”

“I can’t finish a verse without mixing the language in

between,” he says, and I can already picture that smile I’ve
come to know over the years at many poetry events.
What is enjoyable about this collection of interviews is that
not all of them are treated in the same way as if there’s a
formula. In all of them, Alfred, let the poets speak and didn’t
insert himself into the stories. In each interview, or story, he
does his best to capture the poets voice and emotion. Though
the written, as even Alfred, notes doesn’t achieve it the same
way that a recorded voice might, each of the interviews came
alive, showing off the different characters. The interviews
are nicely complemented by the poetry. And having read the
stories, even without reading what inspired the poem, I found
that I understood the poems better.

46
 Twelve + One is a great addition to my collection and I’d tell
anyone and everyone to buy it. The lives of Mandi Poefficient
Vundla, Lebogang Nova Masango, Allan Kolski Horwitz,
Makhosazana Xaba, Phillippa Yaa De Villiers, Ahmed Patel,
Siphiwe ka Ngwenya, Lionel Murcott, Frank Meintjies and Gail
Dendy are inspiring and inspired. In fact it would make for a
great introduction to these poets as it gives life to the poetry
but letting us in, even for a little, to the lives of these poets.

Twelve + One is available for R100 at bookloversmarket.

com.

47
Writer’s Block
Cultural identity trapped between
colonial margins
David wa Maahlamela

Freedom, to me, means a number of things, but I will

particularly focus on one, language, which I regard as ‘cultural
identity’. The right to cultural identity. As long as the highest
law of the country does not correspond with the actual
practice, then freedom will remain a wet dream, to some
of us. Many language activists are loud to identify how the
black South African youth do not, and in most cases, cannot
speak their mother tongue(s), African languages. But they,
unfortunately, fail to realise that most of these languages are
still half-developed and there is a shocking scarcity of learning
resources. We then wonder when the youth adopt and adapt
Western culture. Culture is embedded in a language, meaning:
without language, the youth will remain orphans to their
culture. There are cultural rituals which cannot be translated
or articulated in any language other than the original language.
The current government speaks with an angelic accent when
coming to language rights, yet less is done to nurture them.
But this problem started centuries ago, and to redress it, one
needs to trace its origin in the colonial era. Multilingualism
remains a pounce coated on our monolingual state’s face for
the international acclamation.
Having observed how unapologetic other countries are

48
when it comes to their languages, one will conclude that
less, if not nothing, is done in our beloved country. This will
surely hasten the death of these languages. Needless to point
out, currently there is a serious contradiction between the
constitution and the departments such as the Department
of Education on the language issue. Institutions tasked to
promote these languages are contaminated with politics.
Authority and funds are abused in the process. These
institutions barely focus on their main task: to develop these
languages. Language development is still an educated man’s
business. Colonial history tells us that the missionaries who
developed African languages into written forms were not
that educated. Again, we learn from the apartheid era that
the development of Afrikaans into the strong language that it
has become, did not take more than two decades. Post-1996,
after the formation of PanSALB, we saw men, some of whom
speak none of African languages spoken in South Africa; men
who studied Latin and French in Europe; being tasked with
drafting language policies to develop these languages. Most
of them, then, took advantage of the language question to
score political points. Furthermore, the national and provincial
language committees were throttled by scholars who were
mostly heads of the African languages departments and had
a lot in their hands. Language development is a full time job.
Unfortunately, Our Politicians in Parliament do not see it that
way. We ignore passionate language experts and activists,
particularly writers, forgetting that Shakespeare was not a
professor but through his literature, he re-created Queen’s
language. Passion is the drive in this issue.
Does Union Buildings have passion for African languages?
Perhaps the right question is: When last have you heard one
of our black MPs speaking in one of the African language

49
in the Parliament? Afrikaans interpreters’ jobs are safe, but
what about Tshivenda, Sesotho and isiSwati interpreters?
South Africa has forgotten the vision of the June 16 youth,
so the language question is no longer a question. We enjoy
the romantic hegemony of English at the expense of African
languages. Our cultural identity is eroded by our ignorance,
and soon we will be a nation without identity. Some would
argue that choice of language is a personal preference. But
you could ask an insane person to choose between an empty
box and a full box, he will surely go for the full one. Such is
not a choice. My point is that lingual rights are the mother
of freedom of speech. If you deny me the right to learn and
speak my language, you are denying me the right to freely
express myself. This is the chief reason my PhD research is
on Sepedi Oral Poetry: to explore and expose lack of cultural
rights.

Background on Sepedi poetry

The development of African languages into written form,
despite its noble aims, has cost Africa much loss in politics,
religion and culture. Literacy came at an enormous price
that planted segregation between languages and tribes. One
language was often developed to the detriment of the others.
Certain variants and dialects have been favoured and, in
some instances, a new language hierarchy was created, which
resulted in unending linguistic disputes which often translate
into and reinforce tribalism. “Through the random selection
of African languages to be standardized, dialects that had
been standardized had their status unnecessarily elevated at
the expenses of others. Thus, different nations were created
out of people who spoke more or less the same language…”

50
(Banda 2002:2). More than 150 years after South Africa’s
Sepedi language was ‘reduced to writing’, the language is
not only half-developed, but also trapped in a dispute about
whether to be officially named as Sesotho sa Leboa or Sepedi
(Parliamentary Monitoring Group, 2011).
Sepedi oral poetry is arguably the least studied genre of
the three Sotho languages spoken in South Africa. It is hardly
ever mentioned in studies of the southern African oral tradition
or in African studies in general. Yet Sepedi, according to the
national 2011 Census (Statistics South Africa, 2012), is the
most widely spoken Sotho language, followed by Setswana and
then Sesotho.
In his 1906 study of the South African “Bantu Folklore”, the
Southern Sotho folklore expect, E. Jacottet raised a concern
that out of the three “Ba-Suto” languages, the “Ba-Pedi” or
“Northern Ba-Suto” folklore is the only genre that remains
unstudied. He acknowledged the role played by the missionaries,
particularly Alexandra Merensky, in the development of this
language, though he still regarded it as “terra incognita”. He
urged “the scientific societies of Pretoria and Johannesburg”
to “encourage or undertake the work of collecting them before
it is too late.” (1906:xx-xxi). In 1932, G.P. Lestrade, the then
head of Bantu Studies at the University of Pretoria, proposed
a better method of burying this language: “I am against the
full development of Transvaal Sotho…,” he recommended,
“[a]t the very least, it should continue to exist as an auxiliary
language, for the less mature, and for simple or more intimate
needs, in home, the church, the lower classes of the schools,
etc.” Lestrade suggested this, in his favour for the “unification/
harmonisation ” of all the three Sotho languages; a concept
which was later made popular by James Nhlapo (1944) and

51
Neville Alexander (1992). However, several scholars, including
Eileen Jensen Krige, D. R. Hunt, N.J. van Warmelo, Ferdinand
Kruger, J.D. Krige and W.M. Eiselen, continued conducting
sociolinguistic, anthropological and historic studies on Bapedi.
Yet all the above studies excluded oral poetry.
Perhaps that was because the common perspective on oral
poetry was that “[t]he traditional way of delivering a praise is
to start and proceed with the greatest speed possible, saying
it rather softly and pronouncing the words most indistinctly.
Due to this method a European, who has a perfect speaking
knowledge of the language, may not be able to understand
anything of what is said.” (van Zyl 1941:125). Annekie Joubert
(2004:388) shares the same sentiment:
“The richness in poetic language, and the use of archaic
and lofty language is often beyond the capacity of the
ordinary listener, difficult to decode and understand within a
certain framed context, and often in need of interpretation.
Despite my own fluency as well as that of Profs Gobler and
Louwrens in Northern Sotho, we had to rely heavily on the
knowledge of the performers and community members
with regard to the translation of the praise poems.”
Moreover, many compilers have, in their editing, confessed
to having distorted the recorded poems to “suit [their] own
convenience” and “translations are as literal as possible”
(Cook 1931:184), which is later misleadingly interpreted as
‘nothing poetic’ by other scholars. Literal translation, then,
saps the depth of oral literature’s creative richness, resulting
in people questioning whether the poetry has any richness at
all.
Only in the 1930s did C.M. Doke make a call for the
“BaSotho themselves [to] play a greater part in collecting and

52
preparing such material.” (Doke 1933:20). In 1935, the first
Sepedi books by the “BaSotho themselves” were published:
D.M. Phala’s Kxomo ’a thswa! (A cow spits!) and E.M. Ramaila’s
Tsa bophelo bya Moruti Abraham Serote (Pastor Abraham
Serote’s Biography); followed by S.K. Lekgothoane’s (1938)
collection of Sepedi oral poetry. Introducing Lekgothoane’s
compilation, N.J. van Warmelo (Lekgothoane 1938:189)
wrote, “What at first sight appears to be so much incoherent
nonsense then becomes, upon closer examination, intricate
and subtle humour and allusion.” Three years later, H.J. van Zyl
observed, during his intensive analytic study of Sepedi poems
written by students from the Lemana Training Institution (in
Elim, Limpopo), that “[I]t is sometimes said that these…
cannot be considered poetry, and that the difference between
Sotho prose and praise-poetry is so insignificant that it proves
to be extremely difficult to distinguish one from the other.
On closer consideration such opinions seem to be based
on a somewhat limited conception of what we really have in
praises.” (van Zyl 1941:120). Eileen Jensen Krige and J.D.
Krige’s merged Balobedu studies resulted in the culturally
dense and detailed account, The Realm of a Rain-Queen. Their
justification for excluding poetry was that “the exquisite poetry
of these praise-names cannot easily be rendered in English”
(Krige & Krige 1943:95).
This led to what P.S. Groenewald (1983:1) regards as
“The Matsepe period,” 1960-1982. Oliver Kgadime Matsepe,
like B.M. Vilakazi in isiZulu, introduced exotic forms such as
rhyming, sonnets and ballads into Sepedi poetry. His multi-
influenced writing style won him the Samuel Mqhayi prize
twice (1964 and 1973). Many poets such as Moses Bopape,
Stephen Ratlabala, H.M.L. Lentsoane, B.N. Tseke, A.M.
Mashala, S.N. Tseke, S.P. Nkomo, S.R. Machaka, J.R. Maibelo, A.P.

53
Nkadimeng, and M.J. Mojalefa emerged afterwards. Following
in the footsteps of Solomon Plaatje (1916) was J.R.R. Rakoma
(1971) who published a remarkable account of Sepedi idioms
and proverbs, Maremakadika, though unlike Plaatje, he did not
translate it into English.
The most noteworthy oral poet of that time was Peter
Molelemane, whose poems were initially recorded in a form of
an LP record and are today, decades after his death, still widely
distributed, proving the importance of “technauriture ” as
argued by Kaschula (2004) and Kaschula & Mostert (2011).
His poems, just like that of Isaiah Shembe’s and Ntsikana’s,
have become poetic anthems to members of the independent
African church he belonged to. The three leading researchers
of Sepedi poetry were, and still are, Groenewald, Serudu and
Mojalefa. Groenewald conducted analytic studies; Serudu
collected, translated and anthologized; and Mojalefa continued
Ellenberger’s and Laydevant’s work on “divinity poetry”.
“Divinity poetry” is poetry recited by traditional healers in
their communication with the traditional bones (dolos). He also
continued Lekgothaone’s oral praises of animals. The Matsepe
period was followed by the Makobe period. Bishop Makobe still
remains the leading poet in print. Vital historical accounts on
the Bahananwa and the Sekhukhune Bapedi have been written
by Makhura (1996) and Delius (1984); the latter filling up
gaps in studies such as Bothma’s Pedi Origins, Mönnig’s The
Pedi and H.M. Nkadimeng’s Kgoši Mampuru Sekwati.
Around 1990, performance poetry attracted more attention
(Finnegan 1990), leaving three notable accounts on Northern
Basotho oral tradition with reference to performance: Hofmeyr’s
(1993) We Spend our Years as a Tale that is Told, James’s
(1999) Song of the Women Migrants, and Joubert’s (2004)

54
The Power of Performance. Hofmeyr’s account questions the
view that women of southern Africa were historically silent,
which, according to her, contradicts the fact that women were
historically regarded as storytellers. James takes this further
by demonstrating how women migrants at the Reef did not only
adopt what before the 1970s was known as a male genre (kiba
dance) – they further recreated a new form (koša) different
from the women’s dance of the rural hinterlands of Limpopo
(Leboa). This suggests that for these women migrants, dance
was not just recreation of “home” by “homeboys” but the
invention of a new and independent identity uninfluenced by
male domination. Joubert, on the other hand, simultaneously
explores song, dance and praise poetry of the “Hananwa” and
the “Lobedu” using a broader approach. She encompasses
the commonly ignored “derogatory/negative praise poetry”,
which, as scholars including Mafeje (1967:193) and
Kaschula (2002:12) have argued, attests that the seretigale/
seretitumišo (praise poet) is also not limited to ‘praises’ as
the term ‘praise poet’ misleadingly suggests. “Praise poems
are usually explicitly laudatory,” Joubert observes, “but can
also include complaint motifs, uncomplimentary and critical
references to the hero, or they can be derogatory.” (Joubert
2004:385).
Timbila Poetry Project, a Polokwane based publisher
recently published two ground breaking Sepedi poetry
volumes, Phomelelo Machika’s (2005) Peu tša Tokologo
(Seeds of Freedom) and David wa Maahlamela’s (2006)
Moswarataukamariri (The one who holds the lion by its mane).
Machika’s volume is the first volume of Sepedi poems by a
female poet to be published. This, like Hofmeyer argued, might
be misinterpreted as testimony to women’s silence, but in
Sepedi culture, it is rakgadi ’a tšona (the aunt) who always

55
recites an unprompted poem when the coffin is interred, when
initiates graduate, or during the cultural wedding ceremony.
This is a long practice which can be traced before the first
Sepedi poetry volume was published. Wa Maahlamela’s volume
included the praise poem, Ka Lehu Laka (In my demise), which
became the leading Sepedi performance poem and won him
many awards including the PanSALB Multilingualism Award
for the Promotion of Oral and Written Language for Sepedi
category in 2011. Both these poetry volumes include protest
poems which are unapologetically radical - something new in
the Sepedi written poetry milieu.
Praise poetry has “an ethnological significance in
tracing kinship relating relationship and genealogy”
(Vilakazi 1938:106), and it has “literary, historical and even
philosophical interest” (Cook 1931:184). Unfortunately,
most poetry anthologies prescribed for the Sepedi school
syllabus are dominated by the western forms such as sonnets
and ballade. Less attention given to Sepedi traditional form,
particularly praise poetry – which remains the core of Sepedi
oral and performance poetry. Deborah Seddon (2008:133)
writes of “the urgent need for the creation of a student- and
teacher-friendly anthology which would collect, re-voice, and
adequately contextualise a selection of the seminal works of
South African oral poets from the colonial to the post-apartheid
periods.”
Several scholars have conducted their studies on Sepedi
poetry in Afrikaans. Unlike their Setswana and Sesotho
counterparts, such as Mangoaela (1950), Schapera (1965),
Kunene (1971), Damane & Sanders (1974), Coplan (1994),
and Mokitimi (1998) the Afrikaans researchers did not
anthologise or publish their studies widely. Furthermore,

56
studies conducted in Sepedi remain un-translated and only a
few include fieldwork. Unfortunately, most scholar-poets tend
to use their own compositions as general examples of Sepedi
oral tradition – what Hamilton (1987:69) calls “personal
history depicted as public history” or simply “invented history”.
Sepedi oral poetry, as Jacottet observed more than hundred
years ago, is still a “terra incognita”, desperately calling for
scholarly attention.

In conclusion
This research will, therefore, focus on Sepedi oral poetry,
particularly the unexplored field of kiba poetry. Kiba traditional
dance of the Bapedi people in South Africa is infused with rich
oral poetry, especially the male version, dinaka. I will critically
examine and translate kiba poetry into English with minimal
loss of its richness in order to preserve kiba poetry for cultural
and educational use for current and future generations, by
assembling an annotated anthology of this poetry. The
general observation has been that Western poetry influenced
traditional poetry, but no qqone has explored how African
traditional poetry has influenced the modern or Western forms
of poetry, Sepedi poetry in particular. “Most of the so-called
“modern” poems…are still praise poems in nature.” (Milubi
1997:131). Sello Galane’s (2009) doctoral study shows how
Phillip Tabane adapted and adopted kiba poetry to produce
contemporary jazz music. Deborah James’s (1999) study also
adds that musicians such as the German auto-harp player,
Johannes Mokgwadi reproduced kiba poetry in different
genres. The influence of kiba poetry on urban poetry forms
such as slam poetry and protest poetry will, therefore, be
traced. The researcher hopes to inspire many other scholars,

57
particularly African scholars, into conducting further studies
in kiba poetry field and Sepedi literature in general. This will
eventually ensure that Sepedi literature (and the same applies
to other African languages) is no longer a “terra incognita.” By
having sufficient literary and academic resources in, on, about
Sepedi, Sepedi youth will also be inspired to learn and develop
passion for their mother tongue, their cultural identity.

Bibliography is available online

References
Banda, F. 2002. Language Across Borders. Cape Town: CASAS
Cook, P. A. W. 1931. “History and Izibongo of the Swazi Chiefs.”
Bantu Studies, 5, 181-201.
Doke, C. M. 1933. “A Preliminary Investigation into the state of the
Native Languages of the
South Africa with suggestions as to research and the development
of Literature.”Bantu Studies, 7, 1-93.
Finnegan, Ruth. 1990. “What is Orality – if anything?” Byzantine
and Modern Greek Studies, 14,130-
149.
Groenewald, P. S. 1983. “The Literature in Northern Sotho: 1960-
1982.” South African
Journal of African Languages, 3(1), 1-22.
Hamilton, C. A. 1987. “Ideology and Oral Traditions: Listening to
the Voice ‘From Below’”. History in
Africa, 14, 67-86.
Jacottet, E. 1906. The Treasure of Ba-Suto Lore. Morija: Sesuto
Book Depot (Kegan, Paul, Trench,
Trubner & Co).
Joubert, Annekie. 2008. The Power of Performance: Linking Past
and Present in Hananwa and
Lobedu Oral Literature. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter.

58
Kaschula, Russell H. 2004. Imbongi to Slam: The Emergence of a
Technologised Auriture. Southern
African Journal of Folklore Studies, 14(2), 45-58.
Kaschula, Russell H, & Monster, Andre. 2011. “From Oral
Literature to Technauriture.”
World Oral Literature Project, occasional paper 4. Cambridge:
University of Cambridge.
Krige, Eileen, & Krige, J. D. 1943. The Real of a Rain-Queen: A
Study of the Pattern of Lovedu Society.
London: Oxford University Press.
Lekgothoane, S. K. 1938. “Praises of Animals in Northern Sotho.”
Bantu Studies, 12, 189-213.
Lestrade, G. P. 1932. cited by Doke, C. M. (supra).
Mafeje, A. 1967. “The Role of the Bard in a Contemporary
Community.” Journal of African
Languages. 6(3), 193-223.
Milubi, N.A. 1997. Aspects of Venda Poetry. Pretoria: JL van Schaik
Publishers.
Mokgoatsana, Sekgothe Ngwako Cedric. 1996. Some aspects of
N.S. Puleng’s poetry. MA thesis.
Pretoria: University of South Africa.
Pretorius, Willem Jacobus. 1988. Traditional Songs as Part of the
Northern Sotho Poetic Heritage.
Pretoria: Universiteit Vista.
Seddon, Deborah. 2008. “Writing out, writing in: Orature in the
South African literary canon.”
English in Africa, 35(1), 133-150.
Vilakazi, B.W. 1938. “The Conception and Development of Poetry
in Zulu.” Bantu Studies,
12, 105-134.
van Warmelo, N. J. 1938. On Lekgothoane
van Zyl, H. J. 1941. “Praises in Northern Sotho.” Bantu Studies,
15, 119-156. Johannesburg:
The University of the Witwatersrand Press.

59
Contributors
Mapule Mohulatsi is a writer, teacher, performance poet, daughter
and a Zenith Concubine.

Carla Chait is in her Honours year of English at Wits.

Fasaha Mshairi is a writer and performance poet at Afro Alphabets,

Shindig Awe and Music Society University of Johannesburg and a
Photographer at Inked Pupil.

Charl Landsberg is a South African poet, artist, musician, and

academic. His area of interest includes issues of abuse, human and
civil rights, LGBTQI awareness, and secular and humanist interests.
His work is often written from the first person perspective and is
very often autobiographic, thereby dealing with his own experiences
of abuse. Landsberg is openly bisexual and transgender and this
lends greatly to his theoretical and contextual frameworks in much
of his poetry and other writings.

Thompson Charlie was born in 1968 in Highfield, Harare in

Zimbabwe. He grew up in Mufakose Township during Zimbabwe’s
transition to independence, a period in which he lost his father. From
1986 up to 2002 has taught in schools in the Mashonaland East
province of Zimbabwe. His poetry and short stories were published
in Tsotso Literary Magazine and Karibu! the anti-xenophobic
newsletter published by Khanya College, Johannesburg. He lives in
exile in South Africa and is founding member of the Afrikan Writers’
Forum and of the Zimbabwe Heritage Foundation, working with
unaccompanied foreign minors, orphans and vulnerable children.

Rodney ‘The ATM’ Roskruge is a writer, poet, draws, enjoys all

60
kinds of music. a writer. words person.

Ravona is an increasingly active poet, having been thoroughly

bitten by the poetry bug. A lawyer by profession, words have always
been a lover of hers. Ravona is an increasingly active poet, having
been thoroughly bitten by the poetry bug. A lawyer by profession,
words have always been a lover of hers.

David Maahlamela is a poet and prose writer from Mankweng

in Polokwane, Limpopo. Wa Maahlamela has performed in various
events and has published poetry books such as Moswarataukamariri,
Mphogodiba, Poem to my Poems and Mopedi o Maratong and the
novel Sejamoledi and the play O jelwe ke Aretse. He is the recipient
of the Herifest Prize for Poetry, the Musina Mayoral Excellence Award
for Arts development, and the 2010/2011 PanSALB Multilingualism
Award. He has featured in the popular SABC 2 soapie, Muvhango,
the SABC 1 series of 55 South African poets, Voice of Africa, and on
SABC News International’s Youth Expression and Africa in Literature.
Wa Maahlamela is the founder of Lesedi Theatre Production,
Shanduka Poetry Group and Realmen Talk Poetry concept. He has
also chaired the Musina Arts Committee and served as the director
of an annual arts festival.
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