I’m from a place where skollies are our friends,
A place where you can’t even go to the police to report a crime,
A place filled with corruption and distraction.
I’m from a place where people are being stabbed by skollies,
Where people are targeted for rape,
Where people are slaughtered like cows in the bushes,
Where people see crime as a harmless thing.
I’m from a place which I called home, but it’s not my home.
A place where you think you have friends
But you have no one.
No one to talk to, no one to cry to
In times of need.
I’m from a place where people eat drugs like they are eating sweets
A place where drug dealers are being bowed to like they are kings.
I’m from a place apho ingu duntsu-duntsu, isidididi,
uqulukubhedu ukukwela kwenja enqwelweni
I’m from a place apho iziyobisi zingapheli khona zingu Bhubane.
I’m from a place which I called my home
But it’s not my home.
The only place that I usually call my home is the house of God.
I’M FROM A PLACE CALLED CROSSROADS