Don't Ask Me Ask Mandela Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

They eat together bunny chow,
sharing as before apartheid goes,
it must be going, going gone
for these two it never was a problem,
for one does not change life with a vote,
but with a quarter loaf of bunny chow.

Apartheid is leaving this war,
between friends who shared
things bought, yes food
and even bunny chow
with pennies given
come sunshine, wind, or rain.

Then the day comes and it goe.,
the Black one and the luny one,
says to his friend with a hand
reaching out, like a smoker to another
'I will have a bite, won't I? '

'Don't ask me, ask Mandela! '
April is round the corner.The
vote is ready to be made by both.
The bread loaf has become small.
Bunny chow was meant for bunnies,
for this reason he cannot give, for
giving is yesterday's game. Today
has new rules on how to share.


The one who gave yesterday,
does not know it is not his to ask,
these days when Blackness runs
the show, for it has changed color,
And hunger has also done the same.

Supplies will not come easy like yesterday,
here the sun shone in the wake of life.
It will spell color for some it will rise black.
Now in this street in the sunrise era,
the sunrise error has taken place.
At lunch time, new rules are being made.

Bunny chow may know no color,
in the curried space where the
softness lies plain and yellow.
Where it drips warmly soaking into
the white, with well blended spices.

To the hungry man it seeps into
the breaded white and to the
onlooker appeals like a prostitute
Reaching out with a smell saying
'eat me.'

It has lost its Indian pride
and speaks to everyone who longs for,
and hears appeals made and dressed
in spice, speaking of one who looks
at yellow with their tastebuds.

This taste that taps into the deepest
part and knocks into the heart
of each person out here, and it
can surely split those coupled by
its agreements.

The street dwellers see each other,
but exchanges know when the president,
has come anew he will roll over the field
in ways that revoke the new chapter even for lunies.

We learn anew, that enemies will be about food,
over shares of it we will fight one another.
Yes the poorer will get even poorer,
For one just exchanged a coin for bunny chow.

If you were my friend today, we are no longer
the two who share today like yesterday. Who
makes the rules, you may ask. It is the one who
holds the bunny chow in his hand in the now.

Yet the answer speaks of tomorrow.
for to find the vote and change things
does not change this one rule,
when you hold bunny chow in your hand,
you can ask a question and not give.

When the wheel turns for the partner
luny or not luny, the sharing can go on,
for who said it was about bunny chow,
this friendship of ours.