the question that gets asked over many a time...

With each new search of self, we move further apart from the truth and the scripted becomes reality... Of the many forgotten truths our story lines stop telling tales of where we have been to get to here and honey loses its sweetness to mimic the bitter taste of ashes. How surreal is this that the ones born now seek knowledge of their yesteryear... Ndi nguban ndivelaphi, okhokho babesithin mandulo... mvelaphi yam ngokuzithutha nditsala ncambo ziphi na?

 

Family trees and broken histories do not give insight into the realities sought... Who am I? young black child, the sex is irrelevant for the distortment of our stories is intertwined. So "I cry Freedom" but have no true knowledge of what really transpired between our forefathers. Where were our roots first planted, is my lineage's umbilical chord rested near the heart of Azania? Is this dream of my land that exists merely in my mind? I saw a sign that read: "The African Dream" it was neon green at a jazz club and I wondered what that was, the African dream I mean, we are walking against the tide and freedom is well, are we really free?

 

If I had to look further than my nose and dig deeper into me would I like the knowledge I find. Would I hate udakkie wa-beyond these confined borders of my conjured up state of mind or better yet would I see me purely reflected back at me? I am here because of those that walked the walk many moon miles ago, they gave birth to those that birthed those that eventually gave birth to the ones that bore me and I too shall one day be them who will be a Khokho to those that come into being in the future...

 

My roots are African, a little mixed because this, my land has been raped many a time that no-one even bothered to keep count yet the signs are telling subliminally but mostly ignored. Nna ke mang? Am I this person journeying towards the unknown, who is realizing the importance of the knowledge of one’s lineage? They say: “You cannot know where you are going, if you don not know where you have been.”

  I do not know who first uttered these words other than that they have been uttered. Some things need the resounding sound of echoes, one of them is you and I.

 

Batho ba ko hae ba kae? Even belief systems now need the why. We, you, I, she, he, me, him or her have deep entrenched roots that should be recorded. History books tell only a part or parts of: The Story. Uncover and impart your truths unto paper and make sure that your story is rightly written so that those born of your loins have their history down in text to look up and tell their young of the journey.

The ones that came before me played their part in me. As I represent each of them in me,they created me different by the stripes of their creator and thus I was born an African. I am different yet the same to the man I pass by on the street corner. Our journeys differ but our pasts are intertwined because those that lived before us crossed paths somewhere somehow so this is not quite different. Hello to you there in your youness. I am me but these chords within me cannot let you pass by without a hello ‘cause our history binds us.

  I can say no more than I am me, translated it sounds better to my tongue: Ndi ndim. Something in me seeks the natural, a rhythm that unfolds untainted but being.