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A Poem

The Line by Sonwabo Meyi
They were healers scientists griots and mathematicians. They were architects and astrologers. Built empires that raised nations. Organized their people into warriors of light. This is the blood line. From which we come from. In form and norm regardless of the storm. Where did we go wrong Now we are fong-kong.
Indlala inamanyala they say. Blame their own actions. On the shortcomings of the government. Some are social network slaves. Stuck in between internet lines. And always tell each other lies.

This neo-colonial generation is lost. Only knows how to throw bombs. Cannot even build a house. Let alone a library. We burn down Somali shops here. And we excel at it. Brain damaged school kids. Running away from Maths class. Rush to grab what is not theirs. Stand on street corners. Smoking Tik and Crack. Get high and begin to be sleg.
Freedom day human rights day. Youth month Nelson Mandela day. 67 minutes of bullshit. Womens month where every 26 minutes. A woman is raped in South Africa. Black Consciousness week. Heritage Month. What Heritage?

Sonwabo Meyi is a young writer from Port Elizabeth, He writes in his personal capacity and this poem is dedicated to the celebration of South Africa's Heritage Month of September