by Anorh Mabunda
Like fish in a net, laziness has caught them
Every morning they just sit and do nothing
As the four seasons manifold,
they just sit in the sun and feel its warmth envelop them like a mother’s hug
The saying,” a man who never walks out always praises his mother’s cooking”
is meaningless to them
The “get up, get out and do something” attitude is anathema to them
Their views are cramped to a small 30 Kilometer long township
This is their sole constituency; the place that they know inside out,
for it is the only place they have ever been
Asking for a Rand so they can get “a little to burn” has become a daily song
During festive seasons they sit and watch a bus from Johannesburg
just to see who is bringing the new style to their beloved sordid township
Pale young ladies swaggering with ailing infants on the backside,
Illiteracy has smoldered them,
Perpetuating the state of inferiority into their subordinate minds
A constant abuse by their unemployed irresponsible boy friends
surface in their “some time ago” gorgeous faces
The government is to bear the brunch of its roguish offspring.
It is forced to shell out a lot more on social spending
because the level of reliance is mounting.
Teenage pregnancy, crime and school drop outs fills the air of the township.
Unemployment rules at will because all hands that are supposed to corrode it
are always on holiday.
Snail pace service delivery is apparent,
Poor lit tarred roads, pervasive pot holes, dust looming streets characterizes the place.
The only library is situated afar,
despite the fact that literacy is the only key
to unchain these inherited chains of poverty.
Witch-craft, inebriating or boozing and local gossiping
add to the culture of the township.
The big brother who is expected to unchain the family
sits at the back of the house with a dagga bundle
and smoke till the sun shoots to the West.
When the sun rises again from the East,
The township continues with its usual routine at ease.
Who should be blamed?
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