The Ballade Of Nomo's Vengeance Poem by Gert Strydom

(after Theo Wassenaar)

From childhood as best friends
we did hunt, cry, tease, mock, play and laugh
and were always together
day after day.

Chorus:
Tshanibezwe and I was inseparable
like blood brothers did love each other
until his father did go to the upper-chieftain
where he did plunder our kraal, did kill my father.

My father had been a witchdoctor that threw out bones,
he could scatter a horde of enemies before our impi,
he was famous as a prophet that knew the future
and everything was to Tshanibezwe's dad too beautiful.

Our kraal did burst out of its seams,
the beer was always the best and fresh,
the cattle did graze in a multitude
and in the fields there was corn and barley.

While Tshanibezwe lured me away to the mountain
where we did take honey from a beehive with sticks,
lies did bring the wrath of the Chieftain down upon us
and I found everything burnt down and with a shock my father's body

where I did realise that Tshanibezwe did know about his father's plans,
that I have got to measure out blood with blood to his father
and that the death of Tshanibezwe would pierce his heart,
but of our friendship I could not forget.

I had lost my father and everything so suddenly,
did have no possessions, cattle or any maize left,
could not anymore pay the price for a bride
and blood did demand that I have got to murder Tshanibezwe.

At the camp-fire in that dark night
where he sat with me I did wait upon the right moment,
did go to fetch some more wood and a thorn did pierce my finger,
he laughed and with a needle in his hand did look at me

and the wood was somewhat green and wet and the fire full of smoke
while hatred and anger did over-boil in my soul
where I did pierce him with my spear, did loose my best friend,
but now he and his love do constantly haunt me

where I do wander endlessly from unknown kraal to unknown kraal,
sometimes through the rugged bushes in the veldt
and there is nowhere to where I can escape form my guilt
as constantly Tshanibezwe does catch up with his needle.

[Reference: "Nomo se wraak" (Nomo's vengeance) by Theo Wassenaar.Poet's note: the word kraal here means a small rural village.The word impi means a tribal army with regiments.]

© Gert Strydom