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When they killed BIKO
They thought those who were born
In that era will never learn
The language of the soil
And through transition of words
Heart trending we were cultured
Into black consciousness
We looked at the scope of politics
Through the hour-glass of the minority
Agree that Lexis like
Discrimination, prejudice and racism
Exist beyond the thought
Of being classified as God’s step child
I fell from my mother’s womb
When the 70’s generation was
Confused with misplacement of colour
I was born when MAN
Spoke about revolution and democracy
I came to be when those
With lighter skin
Openly sit in their own devils
Laboratories and workshop
How my life should be
In the 70’s my father introduced me
To the faceless names of Nelson Mandela,
Robert Sebukwe and Walter Sisulu
I was born when men and women
Spoke openly about freedom
Of the soul
I was shown the chains that bind
My sisters and brothers
Who were called spies and terrorist
Against their own words of equality
In their land
I was born when voices of BLACK-POWER
Stole Tsietsi Mashinini, Khotso Seatlholo, Onkgopotse Tiro
And threw them inside a pit of hate
apartheid is the word
My community base churches wouldn’t preach about
In the 70’s I learned I was born different
And Through MOZABALAZO scriptures
I woke up toyi toying in the street
When the language I sucked from my mother’s breast
Was to be substituted with Afrikaans
When my black soul started to speak louder
My father took me out of SOWETO
He became God who took Eve
Out of the Garden of Eden
Just because she has tasted the fruit
Of good and evil, right and wrong
In the 70’s I discovered the boat of fear
That my people were sinking in
Even when my own father
Tried to camouflage my knowledge of truth
But now a full-grown woman I know
I am the embodiment of my people
I am a symbol of their strength and struggle
My feet freely race
From the North Star to the South Sands
I fight back to the world of racial dust
Badimo baka have sent me
To wipe the dirty floors of
Race, poverty and class
That my father left untouched
I am STEVE BANTU BIKO’s descendentAnd I know it ain’t a sin to be born
BLACK.
To: Tim Ngubeni (Mentor, friend and a Father)
“The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor, is the mind of the oppressed” - Steve Bantu Biko
By Napo Masheane
This poem is copyright protected and is used here with permission. Go to Napo Masheane's Website
Napo is currently starring in BIKO : Where the Soul Resides which is showing at The State Theatre until 21 September.
‘CAVES SPEAK IN METHAPORS’
Podcast with Napo Masheane, a Black Woman with a Voice
POETRY COLLECTION: By Napo Masheane
Fore-Word on Napo Masheane’s work:
By Sister Natalia
During the past few years (around 10 years), the word poetry has been gaining more use on the tongues of young South Africans, and revival among the older generation. This is due to the commitment of young performing artists who organised, among others “open mic” sessions and poetry collectives to share and perfect their craft.
They wrote and performed stories never heard before, never told by their parents under the apartheid and colonial state of minds. Now they are documenting their words in books (without fear of being banished or exiled to Bradford) and on compact discs. They perform their words at liberating spaces that used to be prisons and are now revived by music and drumbeats that follow their enchanting voices. Every week, at some or other spot, they gather, and speak up, criticise and become the new lights to cities such as Johannesburg and Cape Town. These lights however, carry underneath their feet, soil from home…
We are poetry! This statement is affirmed and engraved on the walls of our souls by the wisdom that oozes from Napo Masheane’s work. She has become one of the daughters and mothers to spoken word in contemporary South Africa. Napo has the ability to connect her African roots – from the depth of her language and elders, proverbs and praises – with her modern existence – ideas of independent and educated women, theatre and life in South Africa now.
Her voice speaks to us about life’s lessons, about women and men, community experiences, and tries to gather all the destitute children of our soil. She feels, deep, and manages to bridge the generational gap between 10 year olds and their grandmothers. Her extensive research on poetry, styles of writing and presentation, among others, as well as binding academia, society and the arts together, make her stand out as a teacher, facilitator and artist who affirms the voice of young, yet talented and well spoken Southern African women.
Caves Speak in Metaphors is her first collection of poems and reflects on her journey as a writer and community activist. She reconfirms, to the world, that well before 1994, and way beyond 2004, South Africa always has bags full of stories, caves that require the world’s full attention, as they house metaphorical sounds, lyrics and unheard experiences of our people.
“The poems are inspiring and reassuring. They move us into a bouncy and free tomorrow, without letting go of what we have leant from yesterday and her people. The essays and writing tools form a crucial element of knowledge to be passed on from classrooms and bookshelves, woven and articulated by one of us, in a familiar tone. These will benefit generations of those who are sharpening the skill of wordsmiths.”
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