FREEDOM, a poem on South Africa by Afzal Moolla
Freedom The shackles have been cast off. Chains broken. People once squashed, under the jackboot of Apartheid, are free. Free at last! Freedom came on the 27th day in that April, 1994. Freedom from prejudice. From institutionalised racism. From being relegated to second-class citizenship. Freedom came and we danced. We cried. We ululated as we elected our revered Mandela. President Nelson Mandela. Our very own beloved 'Madiba'. Black and white and brown and those in-between, All hues of this rainbow nation, rejoiced as we breathed in the air of freedom and democracy. Today we pause. We remember. We salute. The brave ones whose sacrifices made this day possible, on that 27th day of April, 18 years ago. Today we dance. We sing. We ululate. We cry. Tears of joy and tears of loss. Of remembrance and of forgiveness. Of reconciliation and of memories. Today we pause. We acknowledge the tasks ahead. The hungry. The naked. The destitut...
Comments
Now, Irene's talks about Geneva and how her story crystallized once she had taken up residence make her observation interesting. I have heard this before. This reminds me of the recently deceased William F. Buckley Jr, whose political commentaries I enjoyed. He was a famous American writer and publisher of the rightwing magazine, The National Review. Buckley used to go to Switzerland to write his books. Within weeks he would be back in New York with a complete manuscript.
Similarly, when Mark Twain visited Switzerland, he wrote a whole raft of short stories, the best of which is The Mysterious Stranger.
There is something about the air or water in Switzerland, do you reckon? I think I will take my next vacation to Switzerland and see what comes out of.
There is something gracious about Ms Sabatini. That alone earns her my deep respect. All in all, I am very happy for Irene and I wish her all the best of luck.
Watch this space for more info; Munyori Journal will be interviewing Irene soon.