Niki Nicholas Nkuna
Biography of Niki Nicholas Nkuna
Niki Nicholas Nkuna was born in the Limpopo province, South Africa, at a place called Burgersfort in 1957. He attended primary school 10 kilometres from home. The primary school belonged to the Roman Catholic Mission at a place called Sibidikane. He developed interest in literature during his secondary school years, encouraged by school mates and teachers’ comments, about his English compositions which were often well written. However his interest in reading English novels, mainly classic novels, magazines and newspapers developed during his last years in primary school. Newspaper reading became a serious past time due to the volatile political situation in South Africa in the 80’s up to the early 90’s.
He started working in 1981 as a teacher, at a secondary school in a place called Phiring, about 28 kilometres from his home town. He enjoyed teaching. He thought English, History and Geography. However his term as a teacher was short lived. He left teaching after a year and joined his brother in Johannesburg, who worked for a company called Blue Ribbon Bakery, a division of the Premier Milling Group. He was convinced by his brother to leave teaching because he could not understand why his younger brother who’s better educated than him should earn less than him.
Reading newspapers voraciously, he became politicised and thus began to write in response to what he read in the newspaper articles. He wrote a lot of letters to the newspapers most of which were publicised.
In the mid 80s, when PW Botha, the South African Apartheid Prime Minister, made the rubicon speech, which most newspaper commentators said he ‘failed to cross the rubicon, ’ apartheid laws were made stringent. That made him to stop writing to the newspapers and resorted to reading motivational books and writing quotes. He once mentioned to his colleagues that he does not see the reason why he should quote other people all the time in his writings or when he makes presentations or speeches.
All these years he has been an avid reader and a writer but he never ernestly thought of writing poetry until 1989. He wrote his first poem about the death of Samora Machel, the then President of Mozambique in 1986, who was assassinated by the South African Apartheid Security Forces and died in a plane crash. That did not ignite Nick’s interest in poetry although he wrote three poems during that period. He also began to write short stories which he rarely shared with friends or family members.
Niki Nicholas Nkuna's Works:
Sporadic rays of light through the thicket
Niki Nicholas Nkuna Poems
Going In And Out Empty Handed
Everything provided for in the game Equally true for the battle of the earth All things bright and beautiful, big and small, tall and short
I can't live free, one way or otherwise, I'm tied permanently by my legs, hands, heart and mind, The psychology of slavery, I do everything willingly, happily in form of lost identity,
I remembered the pangs of love I remembered the pangs of lust, yes, that's right the pangs of lust Hurting my heart through my eyes
Beauty Today, Ugly Tomorrow
Beauty and ugliness everywhere Beauty in the eyes and mind of the admirer Ugliness in the eyes and mind of the hater Transformational reconstruction everywhere,
The launch pad was high by the bravery of the matriarch Certain about the arduous road she had taken The only one that leads to the last mile When the ululations would transcend the boundaries of Africa into the rest of the world
The Force Of Gravity
The battle against the force of gravity is an exercise in futility, A win is temporary or is a fluke, Opinionated people have constantly hit against the brick wall, Highly intelligent boffins have designed instruments of high precision,
I am in the middle of Namib Desert, And I'm thirsty, Besides a walk to a far distance, I won't survive,
No one could sing like Nina She would walk on her songs Fast and slowly, sometimes stopped abruptly while on high tempo Only to walk slowly her voice picking up tempo in ascending order
Snake In The Grass *
Slithering so smooth, soothing all edges for all people to walk on Safely except for one who is marked upper most by the evil mind Overwhelming green colour of the grass With the almost invisible dull streak
Beyond Wishful Thinking And Regrets
There comes a time when living ain’t living but waiting for an aeroplane, To fly higher up the sky until the earth is out of sight, Looking at the rising sun and wondering if it will ever set, Neither interest nor having the urge to do anything to live,
Safe in my tender mind Believing the world is a play ground Every toy for me and all in the play I, the king to direct the play
God Is Playing A Game Of Dice With Human...
Every dawn of a day is misery, A day of celebration is misery, A sports day is misery, Even a day of the Holy Communion is misery,
Apartheid In The Ring
When apartheid reign supreme in the 80's Invisible cracks below gave rise to a flicker of light, A show of sunrise, coming through the cracks,
A Complicated Book To Read
It is sunset, son sat outside the shop, A myriad of people flocking in and out of the shop, He, looking at them forlornly, Picking up faces of some people that dare look at him,
I can't live free, one way or otherwise,
I'm tied permanently by my legs, hands, heart and mind,
The psychology of slavery,
I do everything willingly, happily in form of lost identity,
I revel in the form of lost identity,
I believe I enjoy every moment of my life in the mosquito net,
My culture has become a tag of ridicule,
Despicable and a shame to wear,