Woe Unto Barmby! Poem by Thabani Khumalo

The infernally dark land of Barmby was an oasis
which lay on a spring before the desert of colorful gems
in the shanty city of a place we now call Bulawayo -
which was built by my father Mthobo
for me to faithfully focus on my forward destination.

So great in area of land that
at her beautiful highland horizons -
those beautiful western jewelers picking up gems
at the gloriously painted sunset horizon -
their faces glowing with glitters of river gold powder
against the red tint of the falling sun,
and the yellow ladies from Botswana were these -
having come to trade their lovely ivory for our heritage sands:
for our fathers had reprimanded against its loss without trade,
and the counsel of our fathers has a promise of reaching eternity.
To the south,
were our cousins having extended farther down seaward -
all of Natal is but a remnant of Barmbyan culture.

One fated day unpredictably rose:
the kings of Canan plotted and colonized the world;
which they did by changing faces as they went along on the way with heavy arms of mass destruction -
(all the Gods who play in the mythological dramas;
all legends from all lands, were from Barmby)
Knowing her fate, Barmby sent out the ravens
to fly from all four corners of the hallowed land -
on board with the chosen twelve:
the poet, the physician, the farmer,
the scientist, the magician and the other so-called sorcerers of our legends:
though sorcerers they were,
and as the elders of our time,
choose to remain blind,
let us grieve!
let us mourn and cry!
and weep in a resonating tune... Woe unto Barmby!