Broke-Buttock Blues by John Eppel

Image - https://www.fulfillmentwarehouse.biz/witness/default.asp?cat=327&pid=5201

They beat me with branches wrapped up in barb-wire,

they beat me with branches wrapped up in barb-wire;

my baby she crying, her face is on fire.

They say you are sell-out, you vote Tsvangirai,

they say you are sell-out, you vote Tsvangirai;

my baby, she dying, please God, tell me why?

They beat first my head then my back then my bums,

they beat first my head then my back then my bums;

they laugh and they say is like playing the drums.

I beg them for water, they say go ask Blair,

I beg them for water, they say go ask Blair.

Please, put out the fire in Mucheche’s hair?

My bottom is broken, can not sit or stand,

my bottom is broken, can not sit or stand;

Mucheche can’t breathe with her mouth in the sand.

They burned all our mealies, our chickens, our dog,

they burned all our mealies, our chickens, our dog;

my uncle, they hit him to death with a log.

For hours they beat me, for hours I cry,

for hours they beat me, for hours I cry;

please God, save my baby, do not let her die?

When they leave, like a tortoise I crawl very slow,

when they leave, like a tortoise I crawl very slow;

but my baby stopped crying a long time ago,

mwana wangu* stopped crying a long time ago.

* mwana wangu – my child

This poem previously published in Together – Stories and Poems by Julius Chingono & John Eppel published by  ‘amaBooks and University of KwaZulu-Natal Press. To order a copy of the book contact ‘amaBooks – amabooksbyo@gmail.com.

www.amabooksbyo.com

Our Children's Tears by Mgcini Nyoni

Image - palindromekmarie.blogspot.com

We have grown fat

on our children’s tears

We have become rich

on our children’s blistered hands

and cracked feet

We have allowed fat men

with big stomachs

and big luxury cars

to tear our children’s hymen

and we dare ask

what’s wrong with our children

We have crammed whole families

into single rooms

and the children sleeping under the bed

can hear the parents having sex

Our children have seen

their mothers sneak in boyfriends

 as soon as the father leaves

for work at the industrial site

Our children have seen their fathers

with other men’s daughters

behind the public toilet

And we dare ask;

what’s wrong with our children?

We have given our children machetes

taught them to chant party slogans

and to clobber political opponents

and we dare ask

what’s wrong with our children

We have become rich using

dubious economic policies

that have not benefited

the ordinary man on the street

We have built beer halls

nightclubs

and taverns

In place of schools

and libraries

and we dare ask;

what’s wrong with our children?

We have grown fat

on our children’s tears…