of the Walter Chakela Worker 1: (Exclaiming in sudden shock) No! This can't be true! Worker 2: What's wrong now, Kgositsile^ Worker 1: Look at the eleventh page of the newspaper Worker 3 looks at the said page, but cannot see anything African Quarterly on the Arts Vol 2 No 3 GLENDORA ...» Worker 2: I don't see anything here. What are you talking about. Worker 1: That small column hidden in the left corner of the paper. Worker 1: (Reading the column). The poet laureate of the township dies in hospital. (Turning to Worker 1) Worker 2: What are they... Worker 1. (Interrupting him) They are referring to Ingoapele Madingoan. They are referring to the people's poet himself. Worker 3: But I thought the people's poet was Worker 1: (In a sudden outburst) Nobody is the people's poet but him! Worker 3: I was just... never mind. Worker 1: (More to himself). Why now, poet? Why now and not earlier or later. Now was not the right time for your departure. Earlier would have been more tolerable, for those were times of death. Later would have been better, for then, surely, you would have finished your task. Now is too late and too soon. By God, how can we lose you now, poet. It is now that we need you to give us your clarion call: On your marks, get set, ready, go! Run Africa! We need to run poet. (The others are shocked at the depth of his hurt, and choose to keep quiet as he continues to utter these words:) How Do I sum you up Poet Do I Call you names Couched in flowery language Extolling the virtues Of your poetry You Frowned upon Such unpropitious utterings alive And surely won't African Quarterly on the Arts GLENDORA ..vi.» Vol. 2/No. 3 Accept them In your now Ancestral abode Should I Even Try to employ The use of words Inarticulate words For I do not possess Your eloquence • To Sketch images Of Your life How Do I Begin To paint This canvass In colours Connoting Your life Your extraordinary life How Do I Capture The cadence Of Your thunderous voice At Regina Mundi Or At Avalon cemetery When The bones Of a revolutionary Were interred For eternal rest I Can only say What I know I Can only recount What my memory recalls Moments Events Of Momentous significance With you a central figure I remember That Saturday At Funda Centre That Saturday in Soweto At the height Of PW Botha's emergency The occasion: Readings from Zimbabwean literature You On the chair Yes I remember the day so well We All of us came Writers And Non-writers Poets And Non-Poets Or Hope-to-be-poets-one-day- When-the-inspiration-comes Yes We All of us came And Found A party bf Literature enthusiasts From Botha's security police Armed Not with aesthetic sensibilities Like the rest of us But Armed to the teeth With Machine guns And armored vehicles On Your inquiry At the reason For the heavy artillery Came the answer: We Have not come Like everybody else To attend the reading We were all Stunned By this incongruous spectacle And The equally incongruous answer I could not help But be reminded Of Goebbels And Culture At the mention of it He is said To have reached For his gun I Remember the look On your face when you addressed The packed theatre This was Just Another form of censorship The reading must go on We must not Be intimidated The reading must go on You Said this Taking your position At the helm of ceremonies And Gaveling the proceedings Into order Poet We Were all scared Though maintaining a steely exterior Like An experienced revolutionary You Were wise to The futility Of prolonging this reading For more than necessary Under such provocative conditions African Quarterly on the Arts Vol. 2/No. 3 GLENDORA.v^ But You were equally wise To the historical significance Offered By this confrontation Of Poetry and The guns of apartheid So The reading went on The words Of Our Zimbabwean comrades Filled the theatre Though only For A symbolic while Before you call it To strategic end You Had made The critical point You Had consolidated This moment This Event For posterity Remember Poet The spirit You instilled in the people When you read Africa my beginning I don't remember Any poem In the history Our literature That so stirred the people As this one In that sonorous voice You bellowed: Freedom Is the law of nature Justice Is deeply rooted In the universal order oHhings I am GLENDORA African Quarterly on the Arts Vol. 2/No. 3 Because You are Because you are I am This Was how You whipped Your audience Into a poetic frenzy The relationship Between People and their poets Is much distorted these days But I suppose The poetry Written by true poets Will live After them I remember Your deep concern Poet About our skewed remembrances Of Our heroes of struggle Where In the scheme of things Are the names of Mofutscmyane Morolong Biko And others That you named In rapid succession You asked We Forget the names Of Our heroes At our peril You opined You Are now gone To be In the illustrious company Of Plaatje Mofolo Monyaise I Can see The smile On your face When you ponder The irony that We envy you The company But Not the journey I Have no doubt Poet That You will Acquit yourself well In that community of giants LIGHTS FADE .so Advertise now & Subscri] e to a rapidly expanding international For more information contact: The Marketing Director, GLENDORA REVIEW, P. 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