Innocently frolicking on a quite dusty road, in the early 60’s
Enjoying the play with dusty sand flowing through their figures
As they built castles in the air through hips and hips of sand and pebbles
Suddenly they hear the sound of a car coming their way
Disturbing the equanimity and their play
As they looked at the direction where the sound was coming
A car was coming towards them fast, a pall of dust in tow
As if it’s a cow boys horse ride
I stood first and my niece followed suit
And we ran for dear life
Afraid of the white man not the car
The monster of the time of our history
Unfortunately the white man saw us
Stopped the car and gave chase
Outstripping our child steps
I was younger than my niece
But I could run faster than him
The kick of the white man on my buttocks was lighter
Than it had been on my niece’s buttons
I saw my niece come flying past me and fell in front on his stomach
I went down trying to pull him up
At the same time looking back
The white man had stopped chasing us and disappeared
We felt the pains but never cried
There was nobody to console us
We examined our backsides
We were bruised and hurting by the kick of the white man
With my childish mind of ignorance I giggled when I saw
My niece’s bruised buttocks
And cried with regret afterwards
My niece’s buttocks were worse than mine
And he couldn’t walk properly
I helped him and we walked home like old people suffering from rheumatism
My faint mind couldn’t tell me what happened thereafter
As to the white man, he belonged to the nobility!
Untouchable by the law of the time!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem