Soweto Poem by Gert Strydom

I have seen highways, turning off
into your roads, crammed with minibus taxis,
full of busses, a couple of cars
and walking, talking people,

as if your people was cast out,
to live at a place that sprang up by itself,
totally unplanned, but like a newborn
thronged to be living

but at a time you were dangerous to me,
when I was called-up for military duty
saw wires spanned to de-capacitate heads
saw your people driven out of their minds

burning each other, with tires strung
onto their heads, incinerating one another
when sharp point bullets
flew in your streets

and to some people you are like a haven
of criminals that operate in gangs
to hijack cars, to rob whatever they can,
but in you I see the indignity

of people trying to make a living,
struggling on just in order to survive
and at times drinking and singing
happy to be alive.