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INGRID JONKER If you don't know her yet, you should check her out. Before
she comitted suicide, she left a small but most incredibly good and beautiful collection of poetry for us to enjoy. She inspired me to write again, for the first time in ages. On 27 April 1994, in his inaugural address at the union buildings in Pretoria, former president Nelson Mandela read one of Ingrid Jonker's poems: *** The child who was shot dead by soldiers at Nyanga The child is not dead The child lifts his fists against his mother Who shouts Afrika ! shouts the breath Of freedom and the veld In the locations of the cordoned heart The child lifts his fists against his father in the march of the generations who shouts Afrika ! shout the breath of righteousness and blood in the streets of his embattled pride The child is not dead not at Langa nor at Nyanga not at Orlando nor at Sharpeville nor at the police station at Philippi where he lies with a bullet through his brain The child is the dark shadow of the soldiers on guard with rifles Saracens and batons the child is present at all assemblies and law-givings the child peers through the windows of houses and into the hearts of mothers this child who just wanted to play in the sun at Nyanga is everywhere the child grown to a man treks through all Africa the child grown into a giant journeys through the whole world Without a pass *** Pretty impressive eh? My favorit poem by her is called: "Waitingtime in Amsterdam". Fcuz, she wrote in south african but her poetry has been translated in many languages. This is my little [insufficient] tribute to her: INGRID JONKER Today a hoarse voice spoke to me, through channels and transmissions, through a body lying in the sea. I've missed you and I waited here, dressed myself and set this table with bread and my constituency. Sunset came and dragged the sole. remainders of my psyche down to the glaciers at the southern pole I Drew a bath to dowse this torment- tiny hairs resembling seaweeds dancing sleepdrunk on the current. But a bath is not sufficiently deep… And I saw you walking barefoot to a comfort more trustworthy than sleep Anyway, if you like poetry in any kind of form, please do take out the time to read some of her work, I promise you it will be well worth the time or money. and true love lives on lollipops and crisps | |
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