Nxae

By Letlapa Mphahlele

Silence is words bravely stilling themselves
Struggling to listen to the silent wisdom of the cosmos
Silence is eloquence pacing the corridors of the mind in serene steps
Pitched to the dizzying heights unreachable by words
Silence is universe in intimate conversation with itself
Celebrating silence with song and song with silence
As we serve song in sound, but digest it in silence

Unhappily hopping from branch to branch of a mimosa tree
Tlhantlhagane the bird saw his death ciphered in the hostile, unpitying clouds
Scudding the blackened heights in lightning combat manoeuvres
From nowhere, the frogs happily raise the mightiest croaky chorus
Singing praises to the deadly storm that conquered the feathered martyr
The universe weeps and smiles at once with misery and ecstasy
When will humanity learn to suffer and to rejoice in one heartbeat?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Letlapa Mphahlele
• Release date: Nov 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463126080

Book preview

Dedication

TO DUKWE REFUGEE CAMP (IN BOTSWANA)

Exiled, we watched the indifferent world through your lush green canopy, bombarding us with words of hollow solidarity. We decimated your bush, nibbling at it branch by branch ’til we stripped you naked like a discarded needle. Sleeping through the mosquito-buzzing nights, waking up tired and routinely refuelling the flesh as we fearfully searched the skies for the birds of steel that fortunately never came. At the crossroads of history, we witnessed the African dream flowering and watched it wilting away into a nightmare. We foolishly wished we were the last wave of refugees with which humankind had to be burdened. Promise me, Dukwe, that you’ll tell no one the secret I’m about to break. Back home, far away from the jungle that was once my home, I’m still exiled from the feast harvested from the fertile fields bequeathed from my forebears. Whisper to no one this ugly secret.

1

Forgive Me, Wendy

For misreading your love’s signposts

The voice of the heart is hard to hear

Sometimes.

Love’s ways are stony and potholed

Always, it seems

Pairing up in bliss and despairing when we miss our expectations

Why little lovers have great expectations?

Great lovers harbour no expectations

Was love born to be unconditional?

Before the harsh bread conditions changed love’s direction

Can we still call it love?

That which changes course when it rains manna no more?

In the sunlight and in the storm

Lovers hold each other tightly

All-weather love is what I should give you

Without expecting the return

I’ve given so little time to this love

With expectations of rage from you

Expectations heatedly fulfilled

I’ve given so much time to other things

And the little lover in me expects you to understand

Expectations are the enemy of love

Unmet expectations lead to the withdrawal of all gemstones

From love’s treasure chest

Love is a school and lovers are continuous learners

We keep discovering the other’s other side

As they discover our other side

We come to know ourselves better with the help of others

The little lover in me

Bending under the load of expectations

Biological expectations expectant with happiness

Will your round expectations fit my square expectations?

How will my high expectations match your no expectations?

The road of love is new every sunrise

New in its headaches and joys

New in its serene breezes and barrelling hurricanes

New in its tests and failing

New in its giving and withholding and forgiving

New in its wars and ceasefires and truces and peace treaties

New in its heroic outbursts and cowardly quietude

Whereas wars are fought by warriors volunteered and conscripted

In love, there’s no conscription

Voluntarily, we walk the lane of love

Whereas in war we fight the enemy without

In love, we fight the enemy within

We tussle with the jealousy within, the unidentified demons within

Whereas in war we’re decorated by nations, honoured by states

In romantic love, we’re decorated by a single individual

Away from the elegant parade square

Am I worthy of decorations?

Say it honestly, MaDlomo

Am I?

The little lover in me is expecting garlands of flowers

And when they fail to come in my large estimates

I’ll learn expectations are the enemy of love

In this college called love

We learn, always learn to learn and to unlearn

Forgive me, my love

For being a poor learner with flying colours expectations.

2

Forgive Me, Bra Don Mattera

For thinking I’m great in the company of your greatness

Don’t we all think we’re giants through osmosis?

The ordinary king who asked for wisdom

Among the ordinary, he sounded wise

Better be ordinary among the wise like Bra Zinga

Where skyward growth is guaranteed

I have seen your firm strides

And watched your faltering moves on the chessboard of life

Where you’re no winner until you capture your opponent’s king

Azania! Oh Azania!

The king of our struggle is in the captivity of the insatiable

With tired pens and soft voices, we whimper for rescue

The king must be set free from the clutches of the rude pawns

This world is so cruel like the game of chess

The not-so-innocent pawns are sacrificed and captured

In their aggressive push to capture the king the other side of the battle line

What are you, Bra Zinga?

Are you an attacking pawn or a captured king?

The day Azania becomes Azania and not just a silly signpost

And the morning the sun shines on a smiling Africa

Ntate Mattera will join the firmament of galactic honour

As the king of the liberated and liberating word.

3

Forgive Me, Mama Sobukwe

For not attending your funeral

Lateness is no reason; it’s just an excuse

Which elders have no time to listen to

Hundreds of miles from your burial site

The Highveld wind is stroking trees into a lamentation hymn

I can hear the elements eulogising you

Even when god died

Some