Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Beyond These Walls by Batsirai E. Chigama

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My blood is cold beneath my skin
Frozen with shame
They undressed me
In front of a thousand strange men
Stripped me of all pride and dignity
Laughing, pointing at my withered breasts
Hoping for subjugation they beat me
Beat me in my nakedness
Then they chained my hands, chained my feet
Trapped me with dank sour smells of lost hope
In a cold cell with rusty bars
Then clanked the door shut
Threw the keys in a forgotten mine
Hoping I too would be forgotten

My body bleeds from the inside
My spirit is wounded
I am chained 
Yet my thoughts roam
In places far beyond these walls
Places I have been and those I will soon be
My visa to freedom 
My mind
they can never
From me. 

Monday, March 18, 2013

#ZimRef by Mgcini Nyoni

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Over imported cognac
They incinerated our views;
shook hands – ‘job well done comrades’
And shared mines and ‘indigenised’ businesses.
Over exotic coffee
they agreed on povo enslaving clauses;
shook hands –‘ job well done comrades’
And reached ‘compromises'
-          inflated parliament and oversized cabinet
On cruise boats in Kariba
and in massage parlours in Vumba
they struck political deals and ‘alliances’;
shook hands – ‘job well done comrades’
And drove us to the polls
to vote yes
for growing fleets of luxury cars
expanding waistlines
expensive holidays
and offshore accounts for them and offspring.