Vonani Bila
Vonani Bila Poems
Hey, dude, I'm telling you, young fellow;
When it's spine-chilly cold,
Hey you, put on a jacket!
...
a visit to the squatter camp
takes months of preparation.
gathering of coins, courage and small heartily big gifts.
oom brown lives in cold broken-down hammanskraal
i climb and change old kombis from elim,
makhado, polokwane, mokopane, modimolle
squashed
to meet oom brown
before he kicks the bucket.
he lives in a corrugated iron house
with one cat that chases rats, two unfed dogs and three goats
he warms his feet and hands around the brazier
he and his old wife talk about life's empty harvest.
we eat fried peanuts
fired in a small old three-legged pot
in a grass-thatched hut.
gogo tsatsawani brings a plate of pap and masonja,
i wash my hands in a bowl of warm water,
eat dinner with pleasure.
around the fire
oom brown tells tales of dispossession,
"i fought during the second world war
while the boers received tracts of fertile land
they gave me an old bicycle."
he tells tales as he finishes a plastic carton of beer.
he advises me how to live life,
"do not plunge your electric tool
in deep treacherous holes of widows,
do not swim in liquor,
or colour your face with fumes of dagga smoke."
he says i must chew muti to be a lion:
muti spread in my office
muti in bed for sex
muti against owls, hyenas and people flying on brooms and loaves of bread
muti for dignity when i talk to authority
muti to live beyond eighty years
muti every time i wake up, walk in the day, and when i sleep.
oom brown's wife's eyes close slowly.
she wraps herself in a rag,
whispers in my ears,
"oom brown is no good;
sometimes he transforms into a snake, lion, hyena.
the comrades cannot touch him."
oom brown coughs strenuously,
he quivers,
twists his lips,
talks in tongues like a miracle man.
surely something in the blood reminds him
of the zombified children, boys, girls, men and women,
who toil day and night in his tobacco fields.
gogo tsatsawani speaks out loud:
"we warm ourselves like this every night;
around the fire
we watch the stars until morning.
the shack is cold,
zombies are crammed there.
we cannot fit,
do you want to see them
short, bearded and strong?"
a visit to oom brown
takes months of preparation.
one night vigil around the fire is enough.
four o'clock in the morning i catch a kombi to elim
before i battle with the bearded boys and reptiles.
...
Give me love, Rwanda
The flowers which comfort my heart
Are still in blossom,
Bees collecting their honey,
...
Vonani Bila Biography
Vonani Bila is a South African author and poet, he was born in 1972 in Shirley Village near Elim Hospital. He is the founder and editor of the poetry journal Timbila and directs the Timbila Poetry Project in Shirley Village, Elim in Limpopo Province. He works as the co-ordinator of the Limpopo NGO Coalition and edits the newspaper Community Gazette. He has written eight story books in English and Tsonga for newly literate adult readers. His poetry has been published in the collection No Free Sleeping. In 2003 Vonani Bila released his first music and poetry CD, 'Dahl Street, Pietersburg'. He is an embodiment of the voice of the black protest[citation needed]. Bila participated in the 'Poetry Africa 2005', an International festival of poetry held in Durban, South Africa. Vonani Bila started his education at Shirley Primary School at his home village of Shirley, he proceeded to do his secondary education at Lemana High School at Njhakanjhaka Village near Elim Hospital. After Lemana high school, he attended the University of Natal.)
The Best Poem Of Vonani Bila
Friday night
Hey, dude, I'm telling you, young fellow;
When it's spine-chilly cold,
Hey you, put on a jacket!
But when rain pours down,
It's grand, don't forget a raincoat.
Hey, buddy;
It's Friday night.
The gumba is high at Sophie's stokvel,
Sweet jazz at bra Rollie's disco
We don't need fools - no trouble-makers here.
We, the clever ones, are going there
To get down with the girls in tight jeans,
Holding Zamalek/Black Label, Hunter's Gold
Cigarette on hand.
Shake Kiki's wasp-like waist, Joe!
Kiki, open your heart please . . .
Joe was burning up for baby for ages.
I'll shake the one with a Cocacola bottle figure,
Lindi, the ebony black beauty.
Lindi, open your heart please . . .
Baby, your loveliness drives me crazy!
The wind is blowing outside.
Lindi, hold my hand,
Come to my chest, feel me pulsating,
Your breasts warming my once lost soul . . .
Your dew-like eyes glistening with love make me pale;
Let's relax on the lawn, hold me -
Caress me, baby,
It's sweet!
Hey Joe,
Where is the condom in your pocket?
Don't make yourself a foolish Thomas.
The time of trust is long gone.
It's better to trust a boot,
It'll protect me from the mud.
Or we simply can't control the blood?
AIDS is no Verwoerd carving Apartheid monsters!
While we keep on waxing our ears,
Death shall lack mercy, old man.
Hey, Joe, I'm telling you little fellow,
Geddit?
The time of fok-fok is long past.
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5/9/2024 11:44:09 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Hey i just want to a summary or an analysis of the poem the toilet since i dont get it....really it an intaresting poem but still i couldnt get what is it about plz help