Okhokho bethu bafel’ emazweni nasekudingisweni kodwa namanje sisaboshiwe ematilongweni.

Ububha nobandlululo lusasembethe thina sizw’ esimpisholo.

Okusixakay’ ukuthi sake sathenjiswa ngenkululeko.

It has been 23 years, yet we are still in the midst of searching for freedom, we are still learning to fall in love with ourselves.

What is freedom and where is freedom when we are still dying to be whites despite that we are too beautiful in our own skin.

We are black enough.

In my childhood I grew up knowing that if you are able to speak the language of colour, English, you are seen as successful and intelligent because they have installed the superiority of their cultures into our minds, undermining what is ours.

Calling us names that suits them in the name of not knowing how to pronounce our African names is regarded as a language barrier, yet us not knowing how to pronounce their English names is called being uneducated.

Tell me, what is this?

They will never erase the blood that runs in our veins.

We are Black, we are Proud, and we are African.

For how long are we going to be imprisoned and not allowed to express ourselves the best way we know?

Mother Africa, why am I referred to as interior when I pray and praise in my mother tongue?

Tell me Mother Africa, why am I regarded as a person of low class when I am proudly speaking my home language?

Singing my clan names is regarded as barbaric act.


Mother Africa, look, I wanted to write this poem in my mother tongue but I couldn’t because I have been told that their language is the language of the media.

Okhokho bethu bafel’ emazweni nasekudingisweni kodwa namanje sisaboshiwe ematilongweni.

I am expressing myself in this poem, wait until they hear it. they will shout. you are so racist!

Yet not so long ago they called us names like monkeys and racism was served as breakfast in all media channels.

Dear Steve Biko, please rise from your grave and teach us about Black consciousness.

What does being African mean to you?