Way back home

One day,
someday,
should some Freedom be registered and final
do not scoff when I spit at the fruits of freedom
because maybe,
my bongo has the sound of a wail
and my voice, the anger of distance
and my movements
the estrangement of discontent
do not be angry

Do not be angry
when I cannot recall that samba from Brazil
or if the Mozambican nights of celebration
help the red in my nightmares
do not be angry

Some say
that in some April
some freedom threatened and came
But Hitler was born in April
and Lenin celebrates life in April
and so do I
but what are the boundaries
Rosa Luxemburg once asked
and I wonder
the questions of a Namibian poet
How far is Washington from Pretoria?
How near is Bonn to Tokyo
Therefore
What is the mileage between hunger & wealth
and what is the distance between the contentment
of one nation
and the discontent of a continent?
how much of a black comedy is Africa really
to the unity of nations?
How satisfying are potatoes as a relief measure
dished out from gun-greased hands
Italy loves Ethiopia
this much we know
from Benito Mussolini
And Michael Jackson loves Zairian children
across the diaspora?
How much love do we need to get serious?

Maybe
if we do a tango in lederhosen
and karate seven times a day
the G-7 will give us G-strings
to enter Hollywood in noble images
the most exciting act
since the Zionists put the Palestinians on the altar
and if we eat pasta
we will discover that the distance between
China & Italy is as fragile as the love between
Great Britain & Northern Ireland
and the lofty ideas of the Eiffel Tower
are as crazy
as the time-bomb mentality in Big Ben
as crazy as the love between Napoleon & Nelson

How far a laugh is Mandela from X?
and before Y & Z seal us
shall we not rather ask the spirit of Gaza
to be our blood
and the blood of the Maya & the Sioux
to be our spirit?
So that we drum it in the drums of Uhuru
when it bangs in the pangs of a continent
Che might be dead
but was his chair only in Cuba?
So now why do you wonder
when my kind of freedom
can only sing me an Internationale
because maybe
just maybe
that
this
this and
that
is my distance from home…
I just received this from Ryan. I didn’t know Sandile wrote this one. What can I say: amazing!

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