Staffrider Vol.3 No.1 Feb 1980 - DISA

Women writersNOKUGCINA SIGWILI WRITES:In response to what Boitumelo saidin the last issue of Staffrider, I feel Imust say something too.It's very important for women towrite what they feel. Really, we needmore writing from women. I thinkwomen understand each other betterwhen they are alone together than whenthere's a man around because then thereis always the possibility of pretending,and that's not communication. I'ma very talkative somebody so I find iteasy to make friends. That gives me theprivilege of talking to other people andgetting to know more about their feelingsso I can compare them with mine. Ifind that when I'm with another girl I'mvery free and relaxed. But when I'mwith a man, I have to be very carefulabout what I'm doing or saying and Ilearn that other women feel the same.So we should come together as womenand try to do some creative writing — Imean writing that will help or encourageother people who might become ourfellow-writers in the future.We are very important to men (maybethey know this — although I'm notsure.) The point is that we need eachother, for we depend on each other'sstrength. Men can be physically strong,but our strength as women is ourmotherhood: men are always women'schildren. And their manhood doesn'tshow if women aren't there.PERSECUTIONYou are so sure of yourselfIf you were not an evil-doerI'd marvel at your determinationEven the hardest diamondIs not harder than you areYou are the stickiest gluethat I know ofYou stick to me like a second skinActually I think you are wickedHow can you be so rudeCan't you see I wantto use my talentsYou're pulling me downI can't even moveYou are the devil's angelYou must be ashamed of yourselfYou'll pay for this, I mean itNow you are persecuting meBut your turn will comeSooner than you'd expectedI'm telling you,You'll regret having done this to meInferiority complexYou merciless stooge!How I hate you!'Men are always women's children'THE BUILDING FELL'Gcina, photo, Biddy CreweIt stood very firm.As if rooted with iron,This darkest brown building.The rains and strong winds cameBut they never shook its strength,This darkest brown building.Stones were hurled time and againEarthquakes came and went,But this darkest brown building stoodfirm.Its tiny windows provided enough light,The basement storage kept enough foodFor this darkest brown building.Even during drought periodsIt was never too dry to crumble,This darkest brown building.Its four sides stood boldlyEach side was differently beautified,This darkest brown building lookedlovely.The front was decorated with mibhacoThe right side with indlamu,One could have loved this building.Where there is gold there is happinessThe hives in this building had goldhoney,Imagine how proudly firm it stood.Even Qamata marvelled at it,And promised never to forsakeThis very precious building.Then one day, somebody dripping withwatercame, looking for somethinginside this darkest brown building.His children were Settler, Burger andHuguenot,They came with paint, to renewThis darkest brown building.The mighty building struggledagainst the white paintuntil it became black with sweatThe battle was so exhaustingthat a red something oozed somewhereAnd so the building fell.Its falling had no screamsbut moans,It did not dieThe left side was adorned with dikobo down but heaped likeThe back with meropa,a mountainThis building looked really lovely. So it did fall but did not die.44 STAFFRIDER, FEBRUARY 1980