A Song For Nandi Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

I know you were 'mnandi' for I tasted you in history,
in the courts where calabashes sang and horns whistled,
when the king touched you tenderly, and let you go
after drinking of your sweetness.

You were left to sort yourself out, but you sorted them out,
standing with legs of love, raising a prince declared none,
and never to rule. They did not know this belly of yours,
this warmth rare. For it cooked them bold, and turned them
out mean, and threw them on the ground royally furious,
and ready to grab what is theirs.

Some women's bellies are hot to look at, yours was also
hot to touch. It raised the rumors of this 'shaka, '
and had palaces wagging tongues, saying
that you were now in the manner, of women
who have been done, the deed with no name.

For he would kill a lion with bare hands, this tiny baby in you,
Born in rejection, grown in strange lands of stick fights,
where he beat all those his age. With marrow regal,
and bone smooth like his skin, he would call to order
soldiers, and change the manner of fighting. The whole
nation had to listen.

Those who plant in shame, will not reap in shame.
You changed the rules, and came back in power.
Those who would not have you, would soon see
you walking in pride, curbing the cruel hand of him,
who had grown to rule with anger, and grown a nation
furious.

What did I do to the land? You ask a question we ask.
What did you do to the nation of Zulu, by begetting
this furious son of a nation, that rules with blood,
and spills it like water, till even dogs can drink it,
and get no satisfaction and thus cry for more, to
one who is ever willing, to keep it flowing daily.

You cried for grandchildren, to one who would
rip open bellies and want to see dead, anything
that resembled him, for fear of death at the hand
of his own sun. He sapped and tapped blood and
saw his own taken, to graves which made him feel,
'when they lie here I am safe.'

You stepped out strong, and walked into history,
a story to be told, for yours was the history of a woman's
belly, that changed a nation. For now people see life is in
woman made, and grows to live and dies in the sleep of
a people who live to tell the story of a people,
who see the spirit, that hovers over the land,
and talks loud, when things are wrong, like I will
when I have gone.

Speak, mother of the nation, when the Xumas, and
Zumas are corrupt, speak. When the youth are dying,
speak. When they are jobless speak. When they die in
kombis, speak, for the maladies are many. They speak
to the skies and say once we had a mother. She would
speak, till we hear. Speak, speak, mother of the nation speak.