Some Treasures

To the red dust of the Highveld plains and KwaZulu koppies; Where young feet roamed and in its earth-breathe did romp Beneath golden haze, as in an oil canvas, the sunset lay Painting goodbye to, The scent of those African flames The flames in the old shanty towns, farms and braai-kos lapas Young and old shared stories, with some mischief untold In those rivers, I swam And those mountains I climbed And the oceans where I caught my first catch A toast now–to my brus! Though my complexion speaks olive and my tongue something strange, The red of the dust still flows in my veins My Ouma, my Oupa, my Granny, and Gramps To that same dust went back, The one I left behind. Farewell. …and, through the air, I went by waka, To descend in that Cloud! To a land of milk and honey, With favour to plea, A ‘shout’... …that I may dwell now, my breath in Yours, and as we hongi, a taonga between you and me nga mihi te tama