Table of contents
✍🏿 by Siyabonga Phangeni.
Hikwalomuya ka vo early 1970s …
I was a teacher in Soweto. I was young. Full of life and passion. We all were honestly. Loko ku ri tata wa mina, vutomi bya yena byi n’wu xupukerile evuchavela-whawha (Mozambique), leaving my mom with two kids to take care of alone. So, you must understand she hated the revolution, a tshamela ro khongela hi masiku leswaku hina vana va yena hi nga ti nghenelisi eka nyimpi ya ntshuxeko, especially mina n’wana wa mfana.
Loko ni pasa ntangha khume and pursued teaching she was more than happy. Kambe mi ta tsundruka leswaku un’wani na un’wani a fanele ku tlanga part ya yena ku kombisa leswaku a nga mpipi ya mabunu. Na mhe I had mine. I wrote memos and printed posters and pamphlets as I carried on with my teaching, kambe tani hi mudyondzisi wa history, a ku ri na lexi a xi ndzi tova ndeni ka mina to do more than printing papers but take a gun and fight.
We were angry but the school kids were angrier and reckless. A va nga chavi ku nikela hi vutomi bya vona. A va nikela vutomi each day hi nkarhi luwa, and that fueled me to do more. A ndzi yi tiva nghozi leyi a ni ti veka ka yona, kambe se a swi nga ha chavisi because in the dusty streets of Soweto, death was a norm, it was matter of when.
A ndzi ti yimiselini ku joiner the so-called heroes of the struggle, read to give up my life just like my father. My mother knew ku ku hava lexi a nga xi endlaku ku ndzi siva. The fun thing I ku there’s something about purpose it blinds you; you go in with your eyes closed with all your heart and soul into it, and it often backfires. Most comrades who lost their lives back there we were driven by purpose and passion. The struggle took everything from me. At the end it took my hands too. I have nothing to show for it. A ndzi ri ni vutomi, a ndzi ri ni xivono xa tiko rerhu, kambe the cruelty of my people has left me in the disdain.
Author: Siya Phangeni
"... voko ro suleka."
