you had already left this world
when I saw you on a seconds-long video
I watched the back of three, four men
standing in a cloud of inconceivable intent
my mind refused, at first
to believe the video was real
a movie clip
of unknown origin
a sick joke
at our family’s expense
and then, my eyes panned down
as barrels lit up by pulled triggers
positioned flat, near the feet of these men
was your body
there
lying still on the ground
a human life snuffed out
by many rounds
my brother is dead, my brother is dead
was the first thought I had
my heart burst
vessels rupturing
simultaneously
as I unraveled
and bled
my brother is dead, they killed him
I screamed
a man of unknown name
help him, someone help him
my feral thoughts clamoured
he might be cold
and sad
and afraid
I cried and cried
in the driver’s seat of my car
parked outside a house you had never visited
a place you would not own
or perhaps could afford
my green and gold family
now fully lost to me
for no good reason at all
my grief was born
amid explosions on a video
I wanted to shout into the cellphone screen
I worried you left believing your death was of little concern
your life had no meaning
maybe you think no one saw, or if they had
they would not mourn
but that is far from true, brother
your end was my death
I am inescapably forlorn
for years now
my mind oscillates
between rage and despair
sobbing then
as I still do
for a man I never met
treated unfairly
as an incontrovertible threat
but there is one thing, I need to ask
myself as much as you
who exactly murdered you, brother?
do you know?
should you?
>>>>>> <<<
anger is grief, rich and deep
I shouted over your loss
burning every bridge that made light of the cruelty
wondering about your life, reduced by colour
race
and class
brother, people said that you caused your own murder
imagine the kind of heart that would say so
they argued over why you were in Phoenix at a time of looting
they said, you should have stayed home
crime by men like you, people said
undoubtedly turned some wary
and so, any crimes
committed by any other
were on your head
you were bound to pay for them dearly
but brother, take heed, people lie and hide, more to themselves than any other
I remember looong before the looting
mothers separating crockery from the women who cleaned their homes
conformist and feminist mothers alike
trust me, when I say, you are not alone
I remember stories told to children as young as two
Mboolooboola was the bogeyman
a black man, they said
he kidnaps children, they warned
and if caught, you will never be seen again
I remember my class friend in primary school
using the k-word to reference carjackers
the men who killed her dad
she failed however to dehumanise men
indian and white
who insulted, groped, beat or raped our sisters and mothers
who agreed to stealing our rightful salaries
pensions
or land
I remember my grandfather, a businessman by trade
a Clairwood man who loved me through and through
who told us imagined stories at nap time
of India and indian princes
grand adventures soaked in wealth and ingenuity
where indians always pulled through
I remember the click of his tongue
when coloured gangs were discussed on TV
You know that breed, he said out loud
I was five, six years old
my mind left full of questions
were my coloured school friends violent animals also
You see, we were told in insidious ways to be careful of people like you
dangerous
deviant
coloured and black
however mildly implied
fear was wrapping paper over insults
often, the worst kind
so imagine children
with seeds of black danger buried in their minds
holding loaded guns in their neighbourhoods
with the threat of looting, an overwhelming fear of crime
imagine them being the ones to decide
using minds, furrowed over years by trusted family and friends
the seeds of childhood, fully germinated and grown
thick roots and long stalks, black danger closing in
be good to each other
watch each other’s back
I heard myself say
who is blocking my brothers from Durban North petrol stations
who in Effingham is telling them to stay home
I started to rage
why will my black student not approach her indian neighbours
to tell them that she is afraid of the corner shop
why is she distrusting of women like me when they live in the same township
facing a twin struggle of poor public service
below inflation salaries
and corporate greed crap
where is this bloody rainbow nation, I bellowed
the one we were told to work toward
did any of us — not black — try to make it real
or were we just hoping for apartheid without segregation
an economic mess, we could still benefit from
even after the old man with smiling eyes told us to wave the new flag
people told the likes of me
that brother, you wanted my suffering for your own gain
because you thought yourself better, more entitled, than we
but their skewed perspectives were thorny crowns forced on my soul
a tightening metal corset of shame
every time I looked in the eyes of a black cashier, cleaner, a starving student
Bongiwe
reminding me of the choices we made
and for this sin, I cannot forget
I struggle to forgive
turning a sister against her brother
crushing the chance of a country
a broken family
in need of each other
>>>>>> <<<
when now I think of April 22 in 1994
I doubt whether we truly cared about my brothers scattered wide
protecting self-interest, focused on ourselves, as always
until a man in red insinuated he cared only for you, brother
pushing me aside
our chickens have come to roost, after decades of We are Not Them
using generations of children as reinforcements for ideological and wealth divides
this sin, this practice
a role-modelled norm
this, I am certain, truly cost you your life
I am blameworthy too
I will admit my own choices
my shame
I sat in rooms where you were discussed
allowing ridicule
for a just system in your name
I sat back and heard excuses for advantages
watering down of history, as they hyped up personal choices
deflecting the consequences of our birth, class
resentment and fear
biases and connections
I let them pit me against you
I bore witness to my constructed, arrogant pride
I considered my silence a safe bubble from the poison they spewed
I failed you, brother
a truth, I will not deny
I am so ashamed of my silence, brother
thirty-eight years worth
I am so angry at myself, enraged and disgusted
my silence likely led to your death
the people I once called mine believe their silence shields their children
they believe their us versus them defends and serves our kind
but since 1994, they have robbed me of my promised freedom
grabbed me by the throat and drowned me in poison
can you imagine what it feels like to be me
your mother stealing from your soul while telling you to be free
I should have questioned my normal, unna
but it is hard to do
when everyone around you swallowed the same poison too
I am sorry
more than you know
for me, your death signalled rainbow’s end
and while my silence cannot be undone
I will honour you
till my life is spent
I hold no expectation of forgiveness
you deserve more than a show of tears
you deserved a life of dignity and equitable comfort
a life’s end without our crushing fear
and before captains read letters suggesting Madiba valued white lives
he and other captains must call for more outrage
white and brown animated concern
for those black lives assaulted, keep in mind
when merely breathing in Cape Town’s Western Cape
seems like a crime
><<
><
>>>>
South Africa will rise, my brother
hope is a choice
strapped on shoulders like yours, I am sure
when a fair shot is given voice
for those most vulnerable and at risk
only men and women like you
can steer the change that will free us all
from the pain of poverty and privilege askew
voices must be loud and clear
no more billionaires in our rainbow land—white, brown or black
until union busting
the employer bullying and acts of murder
earns a prison sentence, more than public flak
when corporate games of market dominance, rampant price inflation
reliance on fixed-term contracts, terminations, retrenchments and personal median salaries
are published in company reports
and those royal families, worth millions, earn their own living
rather than special treatment for nought
no more billionaires in our rainbow land—black, brown or white
until corruption includes overcharging the state
little Jimbo, barely qualified, sliding into gov departments or the family business
and the number of chommies in top audit companies
lose their profession and status, now limitless
no more billionaires in our rainbow land
from any asian, western, arab or african state
my brothers and sisters of South Africa have long been deprived
peace will not work, without their enrichment
no more billionaires in iAfrika
brown, white, black, blue or green
until the slow death, poisoning of miners
the working class
for manganese and coal
is answerable globally
how much of our land is owned by private development firms
spawning more private housing estates
private schools for profit
in a developing country
the most inequitable by any rate
how will we innovate and grow
when our biggest harbour is controlled and managed
by those of faraway shores
uninvested in our success
how are we expected to soar
my brother, voices like yours are the strongest amongst us
only you can demand to know
if the wage theft findings of the Farlam commission
has been and is our business norm
>>>>>><<<
this dysfunctional family will only work if my kind
three in number, small in size
move beyond crime, load shedding and unemployment
finger-pointing
at “their” corrupt ANC
and take some much needed responsibility
minority lives and struggles are not the only ones that count
our generational selfishness
this me me me
us
us
us
has cost this family enough
we are losing our brothers and sisters
they are distancing themselves from us
they are tired of asking for a just system
an opposite to racism
they will make it without our help
stop telling the world they’re to blame for everything
a pernicious, bold-faced lie
we are also to blame
we always were
we took the land
designed the house
and refused
in our actions, inactions, policies, practices and statements
to steer change
for them to substantively prosper
and let’s not forget the men and women
on company boards
raising the spear of black struggle
and yet, they rubber stamped decisions
that kept my brother in a hovel
they ride their luxury cars
and build mansions in old white neighbourhoods
talking in vernac, a big game of solidarity
when in private, they look to profit at my brothers’ expense
like all others did previously
why did the looting start, brother
on behalf of which man were those messages relayed
the indoda who is hiding from court judges, behind a black liberation flag
a flag he chose to betray
his bra’s get out of jail card
being, what? Hypertension?
my mother is in her 70s
she has lived long with the same death sentence
that’s the lesson, brother
you could have been free
our sisters too
but there’s one thing
no one wants to admit to you
greed and selfishness has a strong hold on this family
you and I are no exception
freedom, the allusive state we deserve
will only come if we dig out our seeds and wipe up our messes
power alone, delicious as it sounds, will not serve
without lesson learning, it often makes things worse
no more fights at the family dinner table
no more, I say
to those left behind, stop your tired, played-out shit
that is what it will take
>>>>><><<
who is threatening our sisters and brothers—all white—in sunny SA
calling them race traitors
threatening them with law suits, rape or murder
for daring to say
that ideas of human ranking are wrong
or that maybe land reform, sharing is good
an act of healing
a step toward African brotherhood
where are our white family members being led
who is telling them that all their African brothers actually want them dead
I watched an American man on social media tell my white family that the end is near
thinking, who is this cowboy to take my brothers from me
to exploit their racial trauma, a conditioning, a numb fear they will deny exists
do you believe him, Afrikan child
how has this desperate whiteness led you to niks
is your raging squalls working, white brother?
do you feel more accepted and loved
more free
in twenty-nine years, what effort did you make to move from “us” to “we”
your leaders seem to say, fight your African family, darker-skinned, all the way
fight them in courts, in business, schools, in farms and on streets
they’re coming for you, they seem to say
but coming for who
they have not asked for anything you should be unwilling to do
I look at you, my broer
you seem torn in two
somber and proud
but lost
afraid of black crowds
and how did that happen when ma Africa held you to her breast
is Afrikaans not Africa’s youngest baby in the nest
did it ever occur to you to be curious about your discomforts and fears
explore the reason
why the word justice signals Armageddon in your ears
You think they don’t love you
You think they don’t care
You are wrong, boetie
it is you, too
that needs to clear the air
of resentment and entitlement to an unreasonable extent
entitled to generic memories and flags of days when your boot was on their neck
entitled to most of the land, most management positions, their desires and needs irrelevant
entitled to call them degrading names, to brutalise them and their children
entitled to pretend it wasn’t you, hiding behind coloured friends in SA or diluted intent
of wilful ignorance, excuses and undermining that burns
you know what you’ve been doing these past twenty-nine years
when the Western cameras are rolling, you’ve played the wholly victim with tears
you’ve sung that song, cried wolf so many times, that you’ve made any actual white victims meaningless
Western cameras failed to capture the full spectrum of your betrayal
the weaponising of laws to crush unionising, vocal workers and public critics alike
constructively dismissing employees for questioning status quos in relation to their rights
using black and brown bodies post-1994
for BEE points and profit-driven bonuses galore
making most of you comparatively more wealthy
when your one and only job was to use advantages to challenge the systems
and how many of our white sisters have smoothed the way
for you to avoid responsibility for the damage of your play
a monopoly game with wealth that isn’t all yours
treating your country as a purse you can pilfer from
celebrating foreign friends and family that claim a stake of what your brother is owed
c’mon brother
let’s praat nie kak nie
there’s no point in talking love and forgiveness
when so many have made those concepts cheap and yucky
how many don’t believe our brother is equally human
you know exactly what I speak of
in a private hospital, a civilised doctor, by your definition
assaulted my neck
as I prepare to lay on my back
but don’t worry, my son was born healthy
despite his smirking, neo-Nazi attack
and what about all the white sisters you know of
who use black, brown and even younger white bodies as whipping posts
for their insecurities, their internal rage and strife
high-ranking abusers in the workplace and in homes
you see her carrying on
and you do nothing to stop her
one of you actually called the abuser a “work wife”
look in the mirror, brother
how have you thrown us under the bus to protect your married life
have you ever considered what your unhealed trauma does to the children
I looked in the face of the Stellenbosch student who pissed on the bed
and all I saw was a boy, an Afrikan child isolated and alone
an innocent conditioned for war
maybe he deserves better than a gilded cage disguised as a shield and a sword
it’s human to say, change has been hard
to confide in our brother your fear and resentment
it’s okay to admit you enjoyed being preferred
in those your good ol’ days
what’s not okay
is to stay the same
choosing to be mentally stagnant, exacerbating a terror of being erased
when in reality, what you’re protecting
is the same imbalanced socioeconomic system of old
looking to the Western world to help you
when your real mother asks you to come closer and be imaginatively bold
despite all this treachery, I can still find it in me to care for you
to love your children too
I want you to be part
of what could be new
I see you marching, some running
toward a steep cliff’s edge
under a wide battle banner
brother, please, jy maak jou self hartseer
by your own hand, once again, you are turning your back on the family
sitting in your all-white personal spaces slitting your own wrists
making us watch a tragedy
Afrikan brothers, lighter in skin, we are yours and you are our kin
luister vir my, inside, in places you allow to grow cold
your hearts beat for the same mother
she is black and she gave you an elder brother
he has born every betrayal you have forced upon him
the impoverishment, degradation and exploitation
baas, said by a grown man to a teenage kid
when you honour the concentration camps
but not the camps he was put in
when he asked you to make right what was done wrong
asked over and over, in those early democratic years
you, so many, said, I don’t believe you’re entitled, I don’t care for your tears
enough, white brother
please, just, stop
stop turning to a western world you were not born to
and come home
back to us
look within
hear your mother’s voice
ma Africa is asking you to remake your bed
let go, just a bietjie, my skat
it is time for a universal growing up
don’t let your fear of losing convince you to hold tight
take your brother’s hand, he won’t let you fall
trust your mother
your brother knows, true love is found in the long haul
so let the revolution begin
let it come
I welcome it with glee
the revolution starts however
in our hearts and minds
political games will not alone make a just world real
>>>><><><
aah
African brother, come sit with me in silence
with you, I want to be
to breathe again
just the two of us
without the noise buzzing at full speed
inhale, brother
yes
inhale deep
I miss you, you know
the way you find the funny in almost anything
no matter how difficult the moment, how we feel
how low
you’ll be mad at me
enraged to murderous intent
but still, in your heart
believe I deserve
the kind of love you wish you would get
no one has loved me like you
no one has seen my evil and still said, you are mine
I miss all the future times
we could have been a better family
if only things were done right
><>><>><>
our lives may still be divided
categorised at our souls’ expense
but I love you, brother, I always did
I love that you understand being human
a comprehension that doesn’t need to make sense
above all, my brother of rainbow blood, know that you were not alone
on that wicked day of your passing
my love was beside you, holding your hand
wishing you sacred rest, everlasting
I guess I have to say goodbye
I don’t want to
your light drifts upward, I see you dissipate
I want to hold on longer
but I know our creator can’t wait
hamba kahle, my brother
till our next life when we meet
we will sit in the long grass of a field, perhaps one you finally own
I look forward to laughing with you
my hope, a ‘90s dream
maybe, just maybe, we will see it become real
*Unna, Tamil word for big brother
*Chommie, slang word for friend
*Vernac, meaning vernacular, used as a casual reference of indigenous South African languages
*Indoda, Zulu word for man
*Bra, slang word for friend
*Niks, Afrikaans word for nothing
*Praat nie kak nie, don’t talk shit
*Jy maak jou self hartseer, meaning you’re making yourself sad
*Baas, manager/supervisor/boss
*Luister vir my, Afrikaans, listen to me
*Skat, Afrikaans word for beloved or darling
*Bietjie, Afrikaans word referring to a little bit (of something)
*Hamba kahle, Zulu word for goodbye