Are we not born whole?
Selected by Alex Gwaze (Curator)
How does one discover self when we enter this world already inscribed with a name, brief history, frame, location, and colour? At what point does our true potential awaken, and we remember our self? What I enjoy about poetry is that it illuminates the depths of our souls. It sparks paths where remembrance glows. Words have this way of guiding us on our lifelong journey to self-discovery and rebirth. Whether this journey of introspection and exploration confronts the shadows of our past or celebrates the beauty and wisdom of our roots, reflections reminds us that we are not alone in our struggles and triumphs. Our collective memory is always guiding us towards the heart of identity, culture, and our true spirit.
Acknowledgements
BY CHAZE MATAKALA
Zambian Cultural Worker, Writer, Researcher, Multidisciplinary Artist. Chaze has an MPhil in African Studies from the University of Cape Town. She founded Decolonial Daydreams, an ongoing archive of cultural residence, and has written articles for several publications including Mail & Guardian, OkayAfrica and more.
We are descended from stars and gathering the scattered pieces of ourselves.
The question is do we feel worthy of self-knowledge?
It is death to ego, a sacred suicide
It is a laying done of bones
From third eye cranium to jointed toes
We are not learning something new,
We are remembering …
The Great Tree Has Fallen
BY BRADLEY MOYO
Zimbabwean expressionist poet and literary enthusiast studying BA (hons) degree in Journalist and Digital Media Studies at Midlands State University. Bradley is also known as Brvdley The WordPill.
Today we have plenty wood and food
Let us eat for tomorrow we die.
The squirrel, the bird and her babe
are now homeless.
the soil has lost its protector,
thieves shall tamper with her virginity.
Tell the villagers the ‘dare’ is postponed,
tell my lover we shall meet at the river,
tell ‘gogo’ to stay in her hut,
there is no shade today.
The great tree has fallen!
Sweep not the leaves that tell his tale,
Silence not the birds that mourn him
for the village is now orphaned.
Let the medicine lady collect his remains,
one day they shall tell his tale,
as we sing psalms , songs of songs without name,
a language known only by the wise and old.
Let the drums roll and women weep,
for the great mighty tree has fallen!
Who Shall Take Responsibility?
BY LELE JELEMOT
Malawian make-up artist, actress and camera person. Lele (Lele SFX) has done special effects for Malawi’s first zombie film “Dead Forest”, and acted In “Is The President Dead?”. In addition she was part of production crew for “Sowing Seeds”, “Misnomer”, “Mushroom Shade,” films and more.
In an old country,
a very old country,
I was in love when we made her,
me and baby daddy.
My mother and my aunties said, “You with child,”
women always know,
what did I know?
Who shall take responsibility?
The father, the woman,
“When the curry is tasty, the rice is hard.” – that’s an old saying.
But no youth wants to be with child,
this is my body.
I took some pills, it didn’t work,
all the blood left my head,
hit my feet first, “run.”
Who shall take responsibility?
“Though you near the shore, you’re not in the ocean, yet” another old saying.
Let us pray for trees”, my friend prayed,
to block the sun, hide the heat,
hide me behind winter clothes.
Hot flushes, no!
“Crabs teach their offspring to walk straight,” more old sayings.
I moved out of home
went to his home
tried to make it work,
went back home – asshole.
I must take responsibility.
Taxi faster!
Medical emergency!
Mother was with me, proud,
then she was born.
Three women, one room,
the root, the seed and the fruit,
I remembered the ancestors,
I knew God.
When I got home,
everyone discovered
what I was hiding – a new branch,
4.9 kgs, 21 inches long.
We got married traditionally,
Isabella’s Mommy and Daddy,
restarted, correctly
in the old ways.
Cover image from cosstores.com Autumn Winter Fashion photography 2019.
MUD Journal 