Our Tales - Luyanda Mbatha

We have entered the night to tell our tales
             Dressed all in black,
Only our eyes and teeth could be seen
             Armed with ideas in mind
Darkness was our only hope to find a solution.
So, burning of tyres brought light
            And vision to our destiny.

We had been silent for a very long time,
            They had forgotten all about us.
It was because our dilemma had been ignored.
We had to remind them, that we are
            Still hungry for free basic education.
The generation of our grandparents
            Fought for our rights.
Blood was spilled, for us to have
            A bright future but yet they still act
            Irresponsibly towards us.

The burning desire of reaching our destiny
            Has chased away fear
But we know that we would not cross
The night without the company of the police.

After hearing sirens, we ran for our lives.
           Gunshots followed with rubber bullets
Grenades had already been thrown at us.
           As the youth, the majority had entered the night
To tell their tale, but only the minority remained
           To tell our tale.




©  Luyanda Mbatha

***
Grade 11
***

Educational Terrorism ~ Omhle Duma

Next thing you know its 1985 again. Guns blazing in these city streets, these souls have caught fire.

This time it isn’t your mother, father and neither is it your sister running from the police.

This time it’s you. The yellow tanks are chasing you. Roaming the streets; crushing your dreams.

They are waiting for us to express our freedom of speech, just so they can put a bullet through you.

Say they had sufficient reason. Say that what you’re doing is an act of treason. Call you a terrorist.

We are not trying to overthrow the government! We are saying we are trying to get an education.

So she can take her siblings to school.

So he can buy his mother a house.

So they will be better.

But here we are, sitting at the table, unable to afford what is on the table already.

I am not mad that you have money, I’m livid at the fact that you think that we all come from deep pockets, where education isn’t a major concern. 

These tuition fees you don’t think twice about are the same fees her mother is getting hospitalised for; the same ones she’s praying for a miracle for.

We aren’t terrorists. We aren’t the enemy. 

We just want an education man. We just want to learn to better ourselves.

 

And I am not trying to blame the past on these problems, but damn, it’s got you all so selfish.

You forget really don’t you?

That not even 30 years ago you were in our shoes.

Fighting against oppressors, now we are fighting for an education.

How many people have to die? 

We are a generation that will not be silenced. We are bombs. 

Momma told me that I can be whatever I want to be. 

Today I told her that I’m a bomb waiting to explode.

I am a rocket waiting to take off. 

I told her that I am a lantern waiting to light up the world.

Here I am, a non-explosive bomb, a failed rocket ship, an unlit lantern; just because you won’t light my candle. 

Don’t you know we shine brighter when we all have lanterns to carry? 

When we all explode at once?

When we all reach for the stars?

©  Omhle Duma

***

Grade 12

***

My terrorists do not drop bombs ~ Zaynab Asmal

My terrorists do not drop bombs
They are the rapist residing in every strange man’s face
The glances tossed my way as I walk down the street
The idea I guard against when I lock my doors tight
And pray that it’s not me that’s attacked tonight.

My terrorists have no convenient names
Like ISIS or Bin Laden.
They carry ugly hereditary titles:
Poverty, abuse, social decay
And every title is but one branch
On a Lernaean family tree desperate to be pruned.

My terrorists have no real race or identity
No matter what technicolor my TV feeds me
Or what nationalities are spat at
By friends, families, strangers
Who feel safe to speak only in their homes.

America’s terrorists are not my own
Switch off the internal media feed
You’re already surrounded by enemies
And it begins with an ambush inside your head.

(the symptom is not the problem
recognise the crisis
treat the disease)


© Zaynab Asmal


***
Matriculant 2013
***