(an adaptation of Hugh Masekela\u2019s \u2018Stimela\u2019)<\/p>\n
<\/u>There is a train.<\/p>\n
There is a train that transports young African men from Namibia, Angola, Zambia, Botswana, Mozambique, Botswana.<\/p>\n
There is a train.<\/p>\n
This train separates these men with melanin skin from their sons and daughters, wives and uncles, never to be seen again.<\/p>\n
There is a train.<\/p>\n
This train arrives in Johannesburg, the city of gold, 30-40 of these men squeezed like sardines in barren barracks.<\/p>\n
Cursing the cruelty of their fate whilst eating off of metal plates, the cold of colonialism lays in their bones.<\/p>\n
These men dig and dig and dig, deep, deep, deep into the hinterlands of African land.<\/p>\n
They dig and dig and dig, for the first world\u2019s commodity. Gold, the raw mineral of immorality.<\/p>\n
Johannesburg, the city of gold, gold to be worn on European hands and necklaces.<\/p>\n
Gold. A noose around these men\u2019s necks.<\/p>\n
iGoli. Johannesburg. The city of gold.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
(an adaptation of Hugh Masekela\u2019s \u2018Stimela\u2019) There is a train. There is a train that transports young African men from Namibia, Angola, Zambia, Botswana, Mozambique, Botswana. There is a train. This train separates these men with melanin skin from their sons and daughters, wives and uncles, never to be seen again. There is a train. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":5843,"template":"","categories":[28,11],"class_list":["post-3196","stsp_text","type-stsp_text","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-issue-3","category-lyrik"],"yoast_head":"\n