AFRICAN REFUGEES

Reflections on the life and times of African refugees in Australia

Thursday, March 01, 2007

Behold the
Neophyte with attitude
Singing
The dreamtime melody
Of pure delight

At 1:43 PM, Frances said…

Poetry is my way of ordering life and circumstances or whatever effects me.

This week I read a newsletter sent by Eddie Cross from Bulawayo, Zimbabwe, (at great personal risk) to family and friends telling them truthfully, about the state of existence in times of terrible hardship for the Zimbabwean people which the outside world has no concept of. He’s a true hero!

The newsletter sent by Eddie from Bulawayo (Zimbabwe) on 19th February 2007 appeared on the Great North Road Bulletin Board. I read the board because I grew up in Zambia and often holiday’d in Zimbabwe.

Roots and Wings
_______________

When someone asks for a memory
of Africa, I always remember
those dusty hours spent outside
Katie’s khaya under the Mopani…

Quiet melodious chattering,
the smell of sunshine and family.
Bright white sudza plops in the pot
as bundu sticks crackle with fire …

Small stools where we crouched
in total concentration on a square
of a dozen small indents for stones,
scratched out of Africa’s skin.

Today Eddie talks of roots and wings,
of flights of fear or stoic stance.
The holes left by those who uproot
and the bravery of those who stay.

I visualize a map of Zimbabwe
systematically marked with flights.
Is this just another game of ‘Stones’
where only one man gets a turn?

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2007
At 2:36 PM, Fancy said…

Brilliant imagery, Frances. I like your poetry. Thanks for sharing!