The exiles
As an exile I live
in a country that despises me,
despises my whole nation, our language,
the colour of our skin
where the president
has opened the doors wide
to all of Africa,
and citizens from other countries
are more welcome here than us
but even if he tries
to drive me and my people
into the sea, as immigrants
right into the wide world,
like my ancestors
I have sprouted from this very earth
and there’s no other place
where I can make a living,
no other place that calls me
with the same intensity
and although work is being reserved
by the colour of skin
and my patience is running very thin
and I struggle to survive
in the situation that I am in
no highfalutin balderdash
of this country only belonging
to those who are black
is going to break my people or me
and still we trust God,
to change circumstances,
to change the mindset op people,
and if not to conquer and destroy
to make this country a place
in which all its citizens
have the opportunity
to make a living
and to be free in speech,
in dignity, in association,
in religious beliefs,
to live a life
according to your own culture and values.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
South Africa Is Also My Country
From my birth South Africa is my own country
and my people can flee to an island
but my own culture and language stays holy
although this place is not safe,
I still trust on a much higher hand,
from my birth South Africa is my own country.
From my birth South Africa is my own country
even if the struggling government gives me resistance,
do oppress me with unfair laws,
even if nothing can stop the disintegration,
even if I am not safe against the onslaught,
from my birth South Africa is my own country.
From my birth South Africa is my own country,
even if some act with effrontery against my people
I come from a noble heritage,
I am proud on my Afrikaner lineage,
even if people and buildings are set alight,
from my birth South Africa is my own country.
From my birth South Africa is my own country
with no other place I have such a deep bond
and even if here I will never have any job,
I believe in God and a Christian church,
God himself still keeps my ways intact,
from my birth South Africa is my own country.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Let South Africa be our country again
Let South Africa be our country again
and South Africans from all over the world
stream back,
to dream here like before,
to hope, to wish
of a place
not bordered of by burglar bars
where people can stay free
before God and man.
Let merit and respect be present
and people receive what they deserve
rather than expecting affirmative-action
and mercy from others
and the whole world
and like in the past
let us successfully do our own thing.
Let opportunities really exist
to be free in work,
living and association,
to study in your own language,
let us pull the teeth of the dogs
that rips others apart to rule,
of might that shatters the weak.
Let the animal inside us die
and we really become people
that does not burn each other,
crush and vituperate
and in groups jeering urge the killing on
and do not rob, but work
for the life that we have got.
Let we break the chains
of people ruling
with profit, might
and work people into the ground
and misuse others to gain prosperity.
I am the white Afrikaner that had to fight in war
and now are unemployed and hungry,
while I have a university degree.
I am the black man that without education
have to dig holes and man garbage trucks
and conclude my life in a shack.
I am the coloured that always stand between all groups
and do not know where I belong
and rather gather in gangs.
I am the South African that life
drives down the whole time
and have to pray all the time,
to know how to carry on.
l’Envoi
Still, I am the one that dream
of a country free from crime,
where everybody have equal opportunity,
where rape, corruption
and lawlessness ends
and where South Africa is our country again.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Whose Country?
This is the Earth we all brlong to,
In the beginning were Adam and Eve created;
My Earth,
Your Earth,
Our Earth,
Their Earth,
This is the Earth that we all belong to.
My country,
Your country,
Our country,
Their country,
Whose country is the best?
Adam and Eve were placed in the Garden of Eden.
We are in tne same garden today,
This garden is now called Earth;
So did they increased and multiplied.
Whose country is this?
Spreading all over the Earth we came.
From Eden to what we have today,
Whose world?
This is the Earth that we all belong to.
My world,
Your world,
Our world,
Their world,
We are the same people from the same source;
We came from Adam and Eve.
From generations unto generations,
The same people into different colours today;
This is the Earth that we all belong to.
Of many colours taday to enhance the beauty os Earth,
The same homan race from the beginning;
Whose people are they?
My people,
Your people,
Their people,
From one language to many languages today;
So, why worry about the colour of one's skin?
Without Adam and Eve,
Could we have been here today?
Why then create the boundaries?
We are the same people.
This is the Earth that we all belong to,
Why can't we see the truth and live?
This is my home,
This is your home,
This is our home,
This is their home,
The very Earth that we all live in.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Citizens
citizens...
of America, of Russia,
of Africa, of China,
of Syria, of Israel,
of France, of Italy....
no more!
citizens of the world!
no longer can one country
make it at the expense
of all others....
the walls between us were lies,
and they have fallen....
now we are a people
whose homeland is family!
there's no other way
humanity can survive!
citizens of the world!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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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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Have I got to close the books?
No bad weather,
murderous natives
or even the British Empire
could stop our ancestors
to make a place
their own
at the southern end
of Africa.
Till on a day
some strange people rule
that has no concept
of that which is high and holy,
and tread every thing
with time into ruins
and believe that things are better
while criminals are stealing cars,
robbing banks, murdering people
and steal just where they can
and deceivers sit in parliament
and work are reserved
for only some.
Have I now also
got to close the books,
and leave the country forever
and climb on a jet plane
and make another place
with foreigners
my own
to have a life again?
poem by Gert Strydom
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Your name will not carry another meaning for me
Your name will not carry another meaning for me
like people see you in foreign countries,
as a place where people serve criminal kings
and even if they throw the South away and it becomes just Africa
with foreigners streaming in, I do not go out to hurt you,
even if we feel that we deserve a better country.
Your name will not carry another meaning for me
like people see you in foreign countries,
as a place where we have to ask God for help
in injustice, revolt and a loss of national dignity
where white people by force loose their own possessions
because I am born to you like my ancestors, my South Africa.
Your name will not carry another meaning for me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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An elegy for South Africa
Weep South Africa
as you are no longer my country
and I live here
as if I am
from another planet
as part of a small minority
in a country where dark Africa
declares murderers as heroes
and act like barbarians
and dance and scream.
At a time the orange, white and blue
streamed proud over you
and people at work,
school to parliament
bended their knees to God
who was their supreme leader
right through hordes
at blood river,
the onslaught of the British Empire
and with God on our side
we would quarter
for nobody and nothing.
Our own culture flowered,
children went through schools
right through university
to distinguish themselves
and you could even leave the doors unlocked,
could make a living somewhere,
the police were a servant and a friend
and we under our own rule.
How many times our ancestors
tried to teach other people of God,
distributed medicine and food
and we even faced
the communists and Cubans in Angola,
till on a day a man
for the wide world a hero,
out of our own ranks betrayed his brothers
and he laid the whole country lame
and didn’t sell it out,
but rather gave it away.
Today incompetents are everywhere in control
of state departments
right through into the parliament,
money is squandered,
a whole generation
through their own choosing
did not receive any school education,
whites are affirmed and impoverished by the law
and criminals and foreigners stream in
from all over Africa
to start a new life here.
Today another Afrikaner son is slaughtered
(one of more than three thousand) ,
what happens tomorrow and the next day?
[Reference: Murder on Eugene Terreblance. General condition in the country.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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The state of the nation (in answer to T.T. Cloete and Clinton V. du Plessis)
The country have got too many people
that fancies themselves but really know nothing,
being in possession of jobs as if they belong there
without any comprehension how to do the work
while employers come in line with affirmative action.
The country have got too many
political leaders who are corrupt
that wants to tread on others as if they are elephant
or want to rip apart, want to slice others into pieces
with too many women
surrounding them like heroes
while they are supplanting others.
There are too many people
that takes that which belongs to others
with force, trying to steal the lives of others
while they play as if it is a computer game
killing farmers on farms, taking the right to existence
and humanity from others.
There are too many people only living for themselves,
trampling others around them
to get somewhere in life
who drive others out of their way,
who will do anything to earn more.
Too few people are still in love and love each other,
know how to protect
the sanctity of the marriage
and in vain lays the blame
with each and every beautiful escort
while the rotting
is already in their own hearts.
There are too many people
streaming in from other countries
with a dream to live here
while there is too little work
for the people that are here
and oppression is in place
over the jobs that exist
as if you want to go back
into the years of racism.
[References: Behoefte aan ongunstige weers- en ander omstandighede (Need for unfavourable weather – and other circumstances) by T.T. Cloete. tussentydse verslag (interim report) by Clinton V. Du Plessis.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Neither Are Around To Be Found
When it is discovered,
Not to be what it is.
Or what one has thought it to be...
Why is there a place for it sought?
Why is it accepted,
With a patience to have beliefs change.
And if beliefs can be changed with patience...
Why is it claimed neither are around to be found.
It is close to one's seeking for peace.
People kill to make it happen.
With a spending of millions to get it.
Only to go bankrupt financially and morally.
When peace is free!
And when something is free...
People automatically become suspicious of it.
But can be deceived they have enemies,
To ultimately pay the price...
For finding a place for it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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One Bright Day
One bright day the people together
one bright day the people together
one bright day the people together
one bright day the people together
There will be celebrations around the nations
love without no care
there will be singing, plenty swining
live witout that fear
One bright day the people together
one bright day the people together
yes it was one bright day
yes it is one bright day
There is music, you choose it, love it,love it
hear this music, don't loose it, love it,love it
One bright day the people together
one bright day the people together
Hey, unnuh see the one bright day, South Africa free
Believe me, one bright day,drugs free country
Make it to the one bright day
a said the struggle to the one bright day
struggle to the one bright day
struggle to the one bright day
Make it to the two bright days
make it to thre-------ooh
lord, the people got together
the people got together
So there can be, many, many, years and years and years
song performed by by Ziggy Marley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Wide Brown Country
To the wide brown country the Seasons come and go
South in South Australia where the Murray flow
Through the wide brown country where the brown dust fly
When the gales are rushing down the southern sky.
In the wide brown country woods not there to see
Where the mighty Murray crawls on towards the sea
Through the bone dry paddocks that are never green
Mother Nature in this landscape in her brown only seen.
Where the black tribes fished and hunted centuries ago
Little of their culture others seem to know
Through the wide brown country they travelled far and wide
And theirs was a great culture but their culture with them died.
In the wide brown country wildering flowers are rare
And the sun parched paddocks always looking bare
And where only the hardiest can hope to survive
Emu, wombat and wallaby and grey roo seem to thrive.
In the wide brown country where the Murray flow
Onwards towards the ocean onwards ever slow
And the grass is growing brown even where the rains have been
In that brown old country that man has failed to green.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Territories
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
I see the middle kingdom between heaven and earth
Like the chinese call the country of their birth
We all figure that our homes are set above
Other people than the ones we know and love
In every place with a name
They play the same territorial game
Hiding behind the lines
Sending up warning signs
The whole wide world
An endless universe
Yet we keep looking through
The eyeglass in reverse
Dont feed the people
But we feed the machines
Cant really feel
What international means
In different circles
We keep holding our ground
In different circles
We keep spinning round and round
We see so many tribes -- overrun and undermined
While their invaders dream of lands theyve left behind
Better people -- better food -- and better beer
Why move around the world when eden was so near?
The bosses get talking so tough
And if that wasnt evil enough
We get the drunken and passionate pride
Of the citizens along for the ride
They shoot without shame
In the name of a piece of dirt
For a change of accent
Or the colour of your shirt
Better the pride that resides
In a citizen of the world
Than the pride that divides
When a colourful rag is unfurled
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Youth Pledge
what makes you want to create your own country?
do you born as a king
do you want to be praise as a leader
or do you really love your people
what makes you want to runaway from your country?
are you a traitor
are you an adventurer
or are you tricked by someone
what makes you want to raise a war in your own country?
is there some power behind you
is this just business for you
or are you treated unjustly
what makes you want to separate your country?
do these difference bother you
do you take the wrong side of liberty
or does anyone not care about you
we live in one earth
one nation
one language
why should we destroy each other?
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Colour Blind
I often shake with anger
As I read up on how
People are so blind
When it comes to each others race
Why must there be so much hate
Over the colour of ones skin
Why must people rant and rage
About the culture you belong too
Why is it a sin to be who you are?
Why must we all be persecuted?
For being just you
It boggles the mind
That still lives and breaths
In this day and age
I am indeed very luck
To live were I live
I have never seen the KKK
I have never been apart of a apartheid
I have never shed a tear over the anger
Of losing one simply because of the colour our skin
It's all a mystifying unthinkable part of humanity
That always baffles me
Or even say I am proud to be human
When I see so much hate for just being you
Why is this so
Why does this live and breathe in this world
We like to call our home
Can't we all just be colour blind
And be thankful for what we have
Can't we all just be human and say
I love you my friend
One often dreams…I can dream cant I?
poem by Kaila George
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My country is in ruins
My country is in ruins,
it’s a place that here and there is falling to pieces,
the decline is clearly visible
and the home of almost every white family is a fortress.
Maybe the writing is on the wall,
maybe people who pillage,
at a time will be send out in thousands,
to murder and rob as they did from their prehistory
and time and again I wonder
how long the peace can last?
Sometimes it looks as if integrity
is totally lacking from your fellow man,
as if every one wants to take revenge
for one or other reason,
as if people only living themselves
but maybe compassion is still hidden somewhere?
How much I want things to be different,
and I am longing for a place in the sun of my own,
to talk my own language, to live out my own culture
and at times to express my own thoughts.
Still there is a sun shining in the heaven,
clouds do still disappear at times before the blue;
people still have got dreams, love and ambitions,
are living their lives in happiness, joy, sorrow and pain.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Black or White
You say I'm white while others say black,
Why should my colour cause so much flak,
When you say I'm black it brings on a frown,
If you looked closer you'd see I am brown.
Across the world we come in differing shades,
As humans we all have unique facades,
Some are light while others are tanned,
Yet underneath we're all the same brand.
Why does it bother us why all the fuss,
Some spend hours in the sun trying to look like us,
I'll tell you this though I know its not right,
But some of us even try to be white.
Native Americans are mainly red,
Is that justification for shooting them dead,
In Asia you have those other fellows,
Who's skin colour comes in differing yellows.
I then look at you and it makes me think,
You're not really white you're a shade of pink.
When you get hurt it's certainly true,
Your skin colour turns to black and blue.
When we become unwell it has to be said,
It can make us all look like the living dead,
Prejudice against colour is not the way,
You can guarantee it will cause affray.
Regardless of colour why do we care,
It's time we were all made fully aware,
As humans there's nothing we cannot achieve,
Regardless of colour we have got to believe.
Just cut a finger that is the seed,
To prove beyond doubt that all of us bleed,
Take a closer look no it's not in your head,
All of our bloods are the same shade of red.
And sure as the stars glisten in the sky,
We will all live and we'll surely die,
This only highlights that we all must strive,
To build a bond so that we can survive.
As we grow crops you can make planes,
We can build shelters to help when it rains,
You can build homes while we raise the cattle,
United as one we can win this battle.
When we look at each other let's see just a face,
Instead of us thinking I wonder what race,
Colour means nothing when all's said and done,
For us all to prosper we must live as one.
As human beings we really must stand,
Together united hand in hand,
We're all truly equal keep that in mind,
No culture or race should be undermined.
Colour's like beauty it's only skin deep,
It's what's underneath that we need to keep,
Then we can live in a world without war,
That very word racism we should all abhor..
We can all live in comfort with no need for strife,
loving our neighbours what a wonderful life,
It's not just a dream it's something we can do,
But only as one can we make it come true.
It's now time as a species we all faced the fact,
That our planet is doomed unless there's a pact,
We must end this hatred we've got for each other,
Only then can we live life as sister and brother.
When we accept this all conflict will cease,
Only then will we achieve a definitive peace,
Our past indiscretions we can learn to forgive,
Together as humans is how we must live.
Our future depends on our being collective,
We'll all surely die by being racially selective,
Only then can we say we've at last got it right,
There's far more to this life than just,
‘'Black Or White''
I'm Glad I Live Here
America has its problems
Soldiers sacrificing lives for others
Apart from their families for so long
Living every day in a foreign land
But I’m glad I live here
America has its problems
So many people without homes
Living on the streets desperate for shelter
Cold and sick they suffer each day
But I’m glad I live here
America has its problems
Countless people in poverty
Families unable to pay for their needs
Begging for help from others and the government
But I’m glad I live here
America has its problems
Illegal immigrants in our country
Working the jobs many of us refuse
Causing an uproar all around
But I’m glad I live here
America has its problems
Extremely high gas prices
Drivers unable to afford anything else
Because gas prices leave a hole in their pockets
But I’m glad I live here
America has its problems
Disputes over the current president
Whether he’s doing well running the country
Many disputes between Democrats and Republicans
But I’m glad I live here
poem by Natalie Collins
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You can change the names
You can change the names
of places and call them,
what you want.
My people who life there,
will still be living there
next year and for many years more.
You can change the personnel
that work for the city
and the inadequate delivery of services
and corruption,
will in time make you
pay a handsome bill.
You can change the names of streets,
and fashion them
to your heroes.
Never could you undo
the acts of those
whose names they originally bared
and everyone that uses them
will still know
what they were called before.
Without fixing the roads
people will remember
about the holes in Slovo street
and the dead robots in Mandela drive,
which will keep them alive
You can change the names of airports
for its better that way,
that the world knows
that they coming
to an new country
that’s has fallen years behind,
from where it was before.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Two Different People
Two different people
Black people, white people
Black world, White world
A black person thinks different from the white people
White people thinks highly of himself
White people works very hard for his living
Black's are lazy
They don't want to work, they just want the money
You have to work for the money, they just don't get it
White people knows that there are no free ride in life
Black's want a free ride, there are no free ride in life
Nothing is free in life except for the air that you breathe
The white people have to be careful of what they say to the black People
Whatever you say to the black people if they don't like it they will say it Is discrimination
We can't understand them
They have a mind of their own
The white people are loving and caring
What about the black people?
Not a hope in hell
I don't want any part of the black world
The black world is not safe for me
So I rather stay in my white world where I feel safe
We can't trust them
The reason why there is violence in this world is because the black People cause it
Now they don't like it because they have to live with it
We want a safe world for our people
The black people don't care about it because the only thing they know And seen is violence
There is too much violence on TV
They like it
They like the feeling of danger
We white don't like the feeling of danger
The blacks hate the white people and the white people don't like them Either
The white people knows when to shut up
The black people never knows when to shut up
There is why there are always problem with them
They make life miserable for us
The white people will always be a good friend
The black people can never be your friend
They will take everything they can get from you for free
poem by Aldo Kraas
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