They Came

The plain was flat, wild, and desolate They came when I, a San, was digging up a root. There were three They were brown Xhosa, bigger than me. Though they spoke in a tongue I did not know I knew that I had to go Further South across the river They came as I, a Xhosa, was working in the field There were three Tall black Zulu, with assegai and shield And though they spoke in a language I did not know They made me understand that I must go With them to hear their chief Say that my land was his. But I may live in peace If I went to another land, another place. They came when I, a Zulu, was in my hut They did not knock, though the door was shut There were three They were white, and smaller than me But they had guns which could kill If I did not bend to their will Though they spoke in a tongue I did not know I knew I had to go Further North across the river They came when I, a White, was on my farm They said they would do no harm There were three They were black, with paper and pen They said they were here before me And I must restore the farm to them They knew it would hurt me so But I had to go. They came when I, a Black, repossessed my land There were three The Ghosts of the San They said because I was black I could remain As long as I did not claim The land of the San had always been mine. If I lived in peace And erased the hatred in my heart I could start afresh And find happiness.