Those six bullets that took lives meant nothing to them
We mourned our brothers and sisters
They were fighting for a just cause
They knew their children needed to be free
It was even made worse when they lied to us
They went on to say it was death caused by disorganised mob
The story changed
They told us, they shot because the mob was charging towards them.
If Tshaka was alive he would have debated the claim.
Only cowards get a wound from the back because they’re running away from the battle
Looks like here we charge with the back facing the gun and our hands unarmed.
1st of August!
What curse do you carry?
When we thought it was a once off thing here again you come
This time around you started on the 31st of July
Do we really have to live in fear of our lives?
In Ndebele we say “Umntwana ongakhaliyo ufela embelekweni”
A baby that doesn’t cry even when hungry or sick dies on her mom’s baby
Then we cry for help, we’re called The Violent anti-patriots and beaten to core
Do we really have to live here?
In a home where a gun is behind the door
You cry, a bullet separates your flesh and soul.
You don’t cry you become a manipulated object, you suffer, you go hungry
Your flesh and soul separate.
I thought a gun is supposed to protect us against an external threat not to kill us
We’re now afraid of our brothers and sisters
People whom we grew up with.
Is this how we’re supposed to live like?
It’s so painful now, it’s not nice anymore, our bodies have had enough bruises
We’re crying
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