Misfortune Of A Aurora East Rand Mineworker
A 36 year old man works months without payment
at the Aurora East Rand gold mine
under the illusion from the black owners, promising
that salaries are following, but without receiving money.
In January he only receives ten percent of his salary
(which is just eighteen hundred rand)
while the company owns him for eighteen months
and the government does nothing against the black owners
he looks for other employment everywhere
but is not able to find anything else,
he is put out of his house and has to leave it
finding nowhere to go to
things get too much for the poor man,
he looses his cars, his furniture
and almost every thing that he possess,
in his thoughts he is at the edge of the abyss,
he does not know how to put food on the table,
tries to hang himself three times on one night
where his wife stops him just in time
and now she is really scared
that he will try to suicide again.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
White mine worker’s song (in answer to Don Mattera)
At their jobs beneath spinning wheels
next to yellow mine dumps
and the small train track
after non-payment of many months salaries
people’s lives cannot now turn back
while the mine owners are black
as a man takes the last sight
of the stars gleaming above him
before he hangs himself
on the tree in his garden
only death welcomes him
as he has lost any way
of making a living…
[References: “Mine worker’s song” by Don Mattera. “Num spokesman Lesiba Seshoka said in a statement on Thursday that the union was outraged at hearing Aurora’s commercial director Thulani Nogbane telling the committee that all Num-affiliated members at Grootvlei and more than 80% at Aurora’s Orkney mine had been paid...Aurora director Zondwa Mandela told the committee that illegal miners, acid mine drainage and the termination of a water pumping subsidy by the Department of Mineral Resources as well as involvement by the trade unions Num and Solidarity, were to blame for the mine’s cash flow problems…”Num is pleased that a successful application by the department to obtain another compliance order has been handed down, ” said Seshoka, adding that this should force Aurora to pay outstanding salaries. Solidarity’s Helping Hand project visited the NG Kerk (Dutch Reformed Church) Strubenvale, Thursday providing struggling workers with much-needed food hampers, as well as feedback on the portfolio committee meeting. Aurora management has declined to speak to the press.” The Springs Advertiser Wednesday,20 April 2011.
“The need for aid to workers of Aurora Gold East Rand is stronger than ever, following the recent suicide of Marius Ferreira. Fifty-two-year-old Ferreira, a respected fitter in the mine for many years, gave in to the pressures of ongoing non-payment of salaries over the past 18 months. Taking his own life by drinking ant poison, he passed away at Far East Rand Hospital on March 29, along with the last inkling of dignity and pride he once possessed. A loving father and husband, Ferreira’s death devastated those who knew him – most of all his wife, Susan. A resident at a retirement village in Krugersrus, Susan’s struggle to come to terms with her husband’s death has only being heightened by the ongoing struggles that she is now forced to face alone. “They went from a comfortable living – Marius earning on average R16000 a month depending on overtime – to one of pure struggle, ” explains a close family member, who prefers to remain anonymous. “They were forced to sell everything. They were forced to move to the retirement village as they could no longer afford the house they were in. They lost their cars and were eventually at the point where they even had to sell their bed linen and cutlery just to put food on the table, ” she adds. Ferreia’s death appears to have sparked a string of potential suicides, with no end to their seemingly never-ending struggle in sight. Johan Cronje and his wife Chané*, together with their three children; aged 11,10 and six; are on the same dark road as Ferreira – Johan having attempted to take his own life no less than three times on Thursday evening. “I was busy in the kitchen when I went looking for Johan. I found a rope tied on a noose already set up outside, ” explains Chané. Calming her husband down, Chané kept a weary eye on him through the night – not daring to sleep for fear of waking up to find his lifeless body. He attempted to hang himself twice more that night. “We were comfortable once. Never would we have expected to find ourselves in such a position, ” says 32-year-old Chané, tears threatening to break. A qualified winding engine driver,36-year-old Johan’s R18000 salary allowed Chané to fulfil her role as a full-time housewife at their Groot Vlei Village home, caring for their two sons and daughter. Losing their vehicles, furniture, dignity and hope as salary problems persisted. Johan’s failed attempts to find alternative work is considered the main reason for his suicide attempts…The couple is R48000 in arrears on their home, recently receiving a eviction notice. Chané says that the last payment received from Aurora was at the end of January – a meagre R1800,10% of one months salary.” The Springs Advertiser Wednesday,11 May 2011. ]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Focus on Springs
Eventually the mine closed,
where people worked for months
without a salary, the last of them leave the grounds,
and there’s a strong suspicion
that the new black owners took the profit into their own pockets,
refining the gold somewhere else outside of the company,
causing the company deliberately to break apart
and it is as if nobody can stop or want to stop this felony.
With stubble on their faces men stand in the streets
guarding cars in the hot sun
and they talk Afrikaans, it’s as if the blood clots in their veins
while life and all income stops for them,
where some even live in boxes on the street,
trying to find shelter in the open space behind a church.
[Reference: Sonnet – Uit Malvern (Sonnet – From Malvern) by S. J. Pretorius.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Cars... Waiting in the sun(9/11/01)
Patiently waiting their owners,
the cars sit alone
Blue Mercedes, black ford,
red Dodge, grey Toyota
But for tonight these waiting cars,
will not be going home
No one gives it a thought,
nor cares an iota
Only two days later
does one give it a thought
That these cars waiting their owners,
and coated with dust
Would never be driven again
by their owners
Though waiting, patiently…
oblivious in trust
Waiting in bright sunlight,
where once there was shade
From the two majestic towers
that seemed to forever persist
Waiting in the lonely parking lot
for owners delayed
By the fact that their owners…
and the towers… no longer exist.
poem by David Whalen
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Almost Eighteen
Roy orbison
Almost eighteen a lot of sugar and lace
Almost eighteen with an angel face
She says Im her kind of guy
And if I leave her shell die uh uh
Ill flip upside down and all the way around
Im acting like a clown because I think Ive found
The cream of the crop, I know Ill never stop
Full skirt, dont flirt, ballerina shoes
Pin slips, two lips that never sing the blues
Almost eighteen, a ribbon in her hair
Almost eighteen, my babys young and fair
0h-oh, Ill never let her go
Because, oh I love her so, oh-oh
Shes gonna have her birthday then well run away
Were gonna find a preacher, let him be the teacher
Gonna honeymoon all through the month of june
Darlin well have time until were ninety nine, yeah yeah
Wedding bells gonna ring, were gonna be together
I love her, she loves me, our lovell live forever
Almost eighteen, shes a swingin queen
Almost eighteen, oh what a lovely dream
Until the end of time
My babys mine, all mine, uh-uh
Almost eighteen
Almost eighteen
Almost eighteen
Almost eighteen
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Today I saw a man
Today I saw a man,
probably a grandpa,
standing with a short shirt and pants
in the sun
while life passes him.
Somehow things went terribly wrong
and he was almost stripped naked
and burnt red
and while we talked
he left a deep impression
on me.
Other Afrikaners avoided him
like the plague
too scared
to also get something of his misery
or even to share
a rand or two with him.
l’Envoi
There were already clouds
hanging heavy and black
in the sky
and around the corner
where he sleeps at night
there was nowhere
to really find some shelter
against the cold, whether and wind
and for a moment
his pain blinded me
and I asked myself
why life devours some people
without cause
while robbers drive in expensive cars
and sometimes live in palaces
and still he witnessed
that the Lord is great
and still cares
but things were getting dismal.
[Reference: The South African monetary currency is the rand.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Poor Paddy
[the pogues version]
-----------------------------------------
In eighteen hundred and forty-one
The corduroy breeches I put on
Me corduroy breeches I put on
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-two
From hartlepool I moved to crewe
Found myself a job to do
A working on the railway
I was wearing corduroy breeches
Digging ditches, pulling switches
Dodging pitches, as I was
Working on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-three
I broke the shovel across me knee
I went to work for the company
On the leeds to selby railway
I was wearing corduroy breeches
Digging ditches, pulling switches
Dodging pitches, as I was
Working on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-four
I landed on the liverpool shore
My belly was empty me hands were raw
With working on the railway, the railway
Im sick to my guts of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-five
When daniel oconnell he was alive
When daniel oconnell he was alive
And working on the railway
I was wearing corduroy breeches
Digging ditches, pulling switches
Dodging pitches, as I was
Working on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-six
I changed my trade to carrying bricks
I changed my trade to carrying bricks
To work upon the railway
I was wearing corduroy breeches
Digging ditches, pulling switches
Dodging pitches, as I was
Working on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-seven
Poor paddy was thinking of going to heaven
The old bugger was thinking of going to heaven
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im sick to my death of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
I was wearing corduroy breeches
Digging ditches, pulling switches
Dodging pitches, as I was
Working on the railway
[paddy works on the railway]
---------------------------------------
In eighteen hundred and forty-one
My corduroy breeches I put on
My corduroy breeches I put on
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-two
I didnt know what I should do
I didnt know what I should do
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-three
I sailed away across the sea
I sailed away across the sea
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-four
I landed on columbias shore
I landed on columbias shore
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-five
When daniel oconnell he was alive
When daniel oconnell he was alive
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-six
I made my trade to carrying bricks
I made my trade to carrying bricks
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-seven
Poor paddy was thinking of going to heaven
Poor paddy was thinking of going to heaven
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-eight
I learned to drink my whiskey straight
I learned to drink my whiskey straight
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The White Man Blues
An AK-47 submachine gun shoots stammering,
a rocket propelled grenade whooshes past
and I am in the middle
of another country’s civil war
shooting off short bursts, trying to stay alive
while forced into military service
by the government
and this day could be my last,
but it’s ok as I am still alive
and praying to an almighty God.
Having lost two cars, in less than a week
from theft by some black hooligans
who thinks that what you own
belongs to them
from which the insurance absolved themselves,
having lost my job by affirmative action
and only receiving a few months salary as pay
with all the fringe benefits being cut away
with the wife and her kids walking out
into the arms and the charms
of her new boyfriend
and in Soweto and wherever
the gangsters and politicians live, they know,
they wait and try to relieve me
from my humanity
and to turn me into a ravenous hating thing
and it isn’t news to them
they see my plight
as they are causing it
and even the government holds out its hand
for taxes when and where I have a contract work
but it’s ok as I am still alive
and praying to an almighty God.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Eighteen
Eighteen
Alice Cooper
(Bruce, Cooper, Dunaway, Smith, Buxton)
Lines form on my face and hands
Lines form from the ups and downs
I'm in the middle without any plans
I'm a boy and I'm a man
I'm eighteen
and I don't know what I want
Eighteen
I just don't know what I want
Eighteen
I gotta get away
I gotta get out of this place
I'll go runnin in outer space
Oh yeah
I got a
baby's brain and an old man's heart
Took eighteen years to get this far
Don't always know what I'm talkin' about
Feels like I'm livin in the middle of doubt
Cause I'm
Eighteen
I get confused every day
Eighteen
I just don't know what to say
Eighteen
I gotta get away
Lines form on my face and my hands
Lines form on the left and right
I'm in the middle
the middle of life
I'm a boy and I'm a man
I'm eighteen and I LIKE IT
Yes I like it
Oh I like it
Love it
Like it
Love it
Eighteen!
Eighteen!
Eighteen!
Eighteen and I LIKE IT
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm Eighteen
Lines form on my face and hands
Lines form from the ups and downs
I'm in the middle without any plans
I'm a boy and I'm a man
I'm eighteen
and I don't know what I want
Eighteen
I just don't know what I want
Eighteen
I gotta get away
I gotta get out of this place
I'll go runnin in outer space
Oh yeah
I got a
baby's brain and an old man's heart
Took eighteen years to get this far
Don't always know what I'm talkin' about
Feels like I'm livin in the middle of doubt
Cause I'm
Eighteen
I get confused every day
Eighteen
I just don't know what to say
Eighteen
I gotta get away
Lines form on my face and my hands
Lines form on the left and right
I'm in the middle
the middle of life
I'm a boy and I'm a man
I'm eighteen and I LIKE IT
Yes I like it
Oh I like it
Love it
Like it
Love it
Eighteen!
Eighteen!
Eighteen!
Eighteen and I LIKE IT
song performed by by Alice Cooper from Essentials
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Submission (in answer to Don Mattera)
I have seen a white old man and woman
turned onto the street,
living in cardboard boxes
with their small white dog
in the new disastrous improved South Africa,
I have seen white people taking their own lives
when black mine owners robbed them of salaries
and there was no job to get,
no living to be made
and they did this
instead of starting to beg.
I have seen white men and women
with university degrees
leaving the country
in numbers that are more than a million
to find a place to have a life
somewhere else in a foreign country,
I have waited for more than a hour queuing
at a local bank to make a cash deposit,
as a payment to someone
and the way that things are going,
with the black economic empowerment
and people not up to doing a simple job,
soon all of private industry
will be falling apart
as the government departments are doing.
I have noticed friends and family members
who were robbed, hijacked in their vehicles,
raped, tortured and killed
while the South African Police
did their very best to make a arrest
and like in all other things
are not up to it.
I know people who live in despair,
who are totally without hope
while the country’s borders
are flung wide open
to the rest of Africa
to first have a chance at a job
and their degrees and experience
in the face of this means nothing
but not one does bend
under the black heel to submission,
at the mercy of God
their lives go on…
[Reference: “Submission” by Don Mattera.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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I've Lived My Life
I've lived my life and I'm only eighteen
I left the country for the city thought I was smart but I was silly
I should have known I'd get in trouble being so green
I've lived my life and I'm only eighteen
I met a boy and learned to love him I would have done anything for him
I've loved him more than anything I've ever seen
I've lived my life and I'm only eighteen
Only eighteen but it's all over I ruined my life to please my lover
I made him happy he made me cry then said goodbye
I've lived my life and I'm only eighteen
Only eighteen but it's all over...
I've lived my life and I'm only eighteen
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Their Marriage Vows
Through bad times and good times they'd remain as man and wife
In their marriage vows they vowed it would be for life
On their wedding day some five years ago
But from each other far apart they did grow
Just five years ago he called her his rose
Now divorced and both remarried that's life one must suppose
The bond of love suppose between them not strong
Both their loyalties nowadays to another belong
Their marriage vows the bad times did not survive
'Twas only in good times their love it did thrive
Nowadays when they meet they look the other way
To each other they do not have anything to say
In their eighteen months of marriage there were twelve months of strife
And shattered the vows that were taken for life.
poem by Francis Duggan
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At the time that my two cars were stolen
At the time that my two cars were stolen
an older black gentleman gave me a lift
and day after day for two months
I travelled with him for free
and as far as we were travelling
he told about the greatness of God
and we sometimes talked about the Bible
and he told me about the things
that he was doing in his free time
at prisons and among poor people
and every morning at that contracted position
he prayed for everybody there and for me
and at times he encouraged me
and when the time came for me to leave I knew that:
everybody is His missionary,
His messenger and His prophet
that you measure a man, rather on his deeds
than on mere words.
[This poem is written to my friend Geoffrey Gollolo.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Signs of the time
As time passes
there are brand new cars
in which armed black people sit
dressed in black suits, with dark windows
beyond which they hide
while they do their duty
as agents of the government
and destroy criminals?
While white nurses, artisans,
fired mine workers
are begging for food at DJ’s restaurant,
some with degrees stay in squatter’s settlements
or in the veldt or in the bush
it is as if the world
is turning on its head in this country
and able persons are jobless on the street,
with incompetents in every government position.
As time passes the devil is totally loose:
the Falcons, who first had been the scorpions
(a South African agency similar to the American F.B.I) brake in
at the wrong house, in the middle of the night
breaking down the front gate,
breaking down the garage door,
breaking down the front door
forcing every room’s door open
breaking and destroying just what they find,
going through all the possessions
of a innocent man
destroying left and right and centre
without taking notice
or even realizing
that they are making a mistake,
they cause
more than a hundred thousand rands damage,
violate a citizen’s privacy,
his right to a free existence
so as if they can just come and go
as they want to
and when the owner
of the house wants to get a summons
they admit that they
by mistake harassed him
had broken all the mentioned things,
had caused huge damage,
say that he must make a list
and claim from them,
make a list
of witch they will pay
every single thing
and surely the man in the street,
the general citizen
have to take the money from his pocket
for taxes
and a person can only wonder
where they next are going to invade,
whose life they next will threaten,
whose things they are going to break?
poem by Gert Strydom
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Where the journey of life really goes
My blue honda motorbike
with a full tank of fuel
is broken
and is being repaired
and while I count my money
I see that I have enough,
but for the last journey
of the week
and I wonder how
I am going to be able
to take that ride?
At the bus stop a car guard
is watching cars
and a black woman
that needs five rand for a ticket
and is dressed elegantly
in a red work suit,
gets the money from him
and he doesn’t even know her
or wants anything in return
and its weird seeing a near beggar
giving to the prosperous.
a Bus without any sign of destination
stops in front of me
and I wonder where
this bus is going?
I cannot stay standing
at the bus stop
and I know that I must travel
on this bus.
When I get aboard
the bus looks right
and there are other people,
that I know
that also rides on it.
I tell my destination
to the driver and pay
and he gives
a ticket to me.
When I ask to where
the bus is really going,
he wants to know
to where life’s journey really goes
and my money
is placed back in my hand.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Our child once grown
What if my wife revealed that she was pregnant by me?
However, what if our child one day chose simply not to believe?
In nine months and eighteen years, I need to answer this question.
Nine months for God and my wife to give birth to the little one.
Eighteen year for us to train them in the way that they should go.
But, it is our child choice in whom to believe once grown and outside our front door.
At home, our child shall be instructed about the consequences of their sin.
Our child will understand the punishment of God for sin in the end.
I will train our child up in the Godly way that they should always go.
I will show them the love of the wonderful God I personally know.
Once grown, by us, our child shall be shown how to live life righteously.
Regardless in whom they believe, they will always be our child to me.
How would I feel if in spite of everything I taught and showed our child?
Our child decided, once grown, to take another way in life for a while.
Although taught while young not to steal; once grown they stole any way.
Although taught while young not to lie; once grown they lied every day.
Would I abandon them as quickly as the rest of the world?
Would they still be the prized apple of your heart and still be daddy’s little boy or girl?
Still, there is always a chance our child might choose in God not to believe.
If our child does, it is not because of the lack of the right instructions from me.
I will love our child even if by their life they chose not to follow God.
Because no matter what our child is an important part of my heart.
In who to continue to believe that major choice of life shall be their own.
But, they are still our child though they choose not to believe or act right once grown.
poem by Reginald Walker
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First Year Blues
Written by ernest tubb 1941. rec. by e.t. 11-17-41
Key d demo recorded by hank williams, probably 1949.
(d) now Ive been married about six months,
Only six (d7) months you (g) see,
The (a7) first three months, was all ok,
But the last three is killin (d) me,
My wife began her hissin, cut down on her kissin,
And then she failed to (d7) shine my (g) shoes,
My (a7) shirts they came up wrinkled,
My pants with dirt were sprinkled,
And then I took the first year (d) blues.
(d) well then she started naggin,
She left the sink asaggin,
With dishes (d7) piled up (g) high,
No (a7) food upon the table, she said if she was able,
Shed cook something bye and (d) bye,
Then I began to wonder, if I had made a blunder,
When I (d7) said I (g) do, she (a7) must have read my thinkin,
Her eyes began to blinkin and that gal broke in -(d) - to.
(d) well I heard the dishes crashin,
And I began to dashin, gettin (d7) out of (g) sight,
For (a7) right there was my honey,
On who Id spent my money, turnin into dy - na - (d) - mite,
Then after shed exploded, her meanness all unloaded,
And things began to (d7) simmer (g) down,
I (a7) found myself ableedin, and very much aneedin,
Of stitches taken all a - (d) - round.
(d) well then she started cryin, I felt myself asighin,
And then I took her (d7) in my (g) arms,
I (a7) was afraid to scold her, so I just gently told her,
She didnt do a bit of (d) harm,
Now the first six months is over, and I am much the older,
And experienced (d7) with a (g) wife,
If (a7) I can stand the next six, my friends all say Ill be fixed,
To take it the rest of my (d) life.
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Money
Money money money
Everybody wants some
No money church can't run
Money for this
Money for that
No life without it
Can't sleep
She says hell
In this house
If she don't get it!
Before you get paid
Taxman grab it
Buy something
He grab it again
When money pressure hit
You cannot afford to get sick
Doctors want some
And if you dead without it
You will not be buried
Not even in the sticks
Money money money
It's like blood
It's the way world runs
Need money for food
Need money for fun
If you have no money
Blood a go run
Man join the army
To get some of it
Would be alive
If he had it
Money money money
Where is the money?
Have to get money
Before the day is done
Donkey cough
When you are broke
No money
Donkey don't eat
Everything stops
Earth can't turn
Have to have money
Even some to burn
Money money money
Where did it go?
Pocket is empty
And I just got paid
Maybe my woman took it
Thought I had it made
Thought I had a hundred
But I don't have twenty
Now I am in trouble
I have to leave yard
But I can't leave
If I don't have any
What a thing this is
Money! money! money!
Eh!
12/4/09
poem by Buxton Shippy
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Oxfam Stands For Killing Oxen Causes Famine
Oxfam like Heifer International
is distributing animal flesh
to third world countries,
thereby causing animal agony,
spreading human death and disease,
enabling deforesting and continued
global heating, wasting energy.
Oxfam means.... killing oxen causes
famine.
*********
I WILL NOT SAIL WITH SHEEP
- W. H. Davies - (1870 to 1940)
When I was once in Baltimore
A man came up to me and cried
‘Come, I have eighteen hundred sheep,
And we sail on Tuesday’s tide.'
‘If you will sail with me, young man,
I'll pay you fifty shillings down.
These eighteen hundred sheep I take
From Baltimore to Glasgow town.’
He paid me fifty shillings down.
I sailed with eighteen hundred sheep;
We soon had cleared the harbour’s mouth,
We soon were in the salt sea deep.
The first night we were out at sea.
Those sheep were quiet in their mind.
The second night they cried with fear –
They smelt no pastures in the wind.
They sniffed, poor things, for their green fields.
They cried so loud I could not sleep:
For fifty thousand shillings down
I would not sail again with sheep.
poem by O. Anna Niemus
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When I began writing science fiction in the middle '60s, it seemed very easy to find ideas that took decades to percolate into the cultural consciousness; now the lead time seems more like eighteen months.
quote by Vernor Vinge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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