Scream: A Brief History Of Oppression Chapter 03 Poem by Martin Lochner

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freedom was never offered to us

like a good-hearted man flicking

a nickel to a homeless beggar



we paid for it dearly, fighting

majestic and terrifying tribes of Z

ulu warriors

who wanted only our torture,



chanting ravaging foreigner death

of the fair-

skinned

honourable contracts and verbal agreements

for land and a right to exist

earned Piet Retief a crushed skull and

a permanent good bye



our forefathers forgot us on the big

old toe of Africa, as they fled back



with east Indian company ships

to pursue occupations growing bulbs

and maturing cheese

while we remained

meeting the barbarian hordes

who organised

themselves like

sworded red ants and no conciliatory words

to prevent the bloodshed coming



the pastor prayed:



if it is your wish dear lord,



we will perish courageously

but grant us victory in the shadow

of death and we will unify as

new peoples in this heartless country



mothers moulding lead bullets



children loading muskets

fathers dodging spears and keeping

the laager intact by

shooting and knifing the adversary

till the last battle cry echoed



andries Pretorius

believed moses

visited the slaughter site where the river

ran with blood tainting the fish eagle’s water

the price of our freedom was the death

of the pagan thousands strewn

and forgotten in the long grass

like a naughty child’s domino tiles



our dead are

buried

wounded are tended to

farming commences