Morning had waited impatiently.

Sunset arose and shone with haste on the land of South Africa. 

Anticipation in the trees as they blew wildly. 

It is finally June 16, 1976.

Orlando, Orlando here we come. 

We exceed 10 000, indeed a plethora of us.

We are not to study in Afrikaans,

if we are, “Vorster must learn in Zulu.”

We march in defiance of a language opposes our mother tongue. 

A glimpse of Tsietsi Mashini, leading

my fellow students to freedom.

My bones shook and alive they were

to scrutinize the spirit of Ubuntu versus the Bantu awake from the grave.

Yes, this is our liberty.

Barricades? They can never stop us.

Do we fight and remove them? 

“Peace.” dwelt in the echo of the command.

“Do not provoke them.” and so it was. 

“Viva Azania.” we sang for we are to

reach Orlando.

A different path we took to arrive at the end of the tunnel.

You set your dog as the sacrificial lamb.

An excuse to spread Hastings Ndlovu and Hector Pieterson’s blood.

Mbuyisa held the latter’s lifeless body, and away the fled.

Unaware it was going to be an emblem of our blood, sweat and tears. 

How formulated you were to paint

the land red. 

More than a 100 of us died. 

Your rifles and carbines augmented 

themselves in our land where “united we shall stand.” 

Mother wailed. What have we done to her terra firma. 

Where is humility? 

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. 

Condolences fellows. 

It is now 47 years later. 2023 to be exact.

We still remember your war with injustice. 

Arise Uprising.