Demoncracy '93

Should I stay or should I go?
We ask ourselves today.
Where and how and what about home,
Or should we stay in Africa and pray,
For peace and love and dollar's loan,
And go headlong into the fray?

Is war and peace bound in leather?
Or is it our skins at stake?
From day to grey and burning tyres,
No stressless orgasm to fake,
Like banknotes and political liars,
Who pull on democracy's brake.

Will liberators become demons?
Once they usurp the throne.
Economy ruined through inflation,
And no-one willing to loan,
Van Riebeek's head for immigration,
Before we're suicide prone.

Should we buy coiled razor wire?
And join the national neurosis.
Three-fifty-seven sawn off pit bull,
To calmly address the prognosis,
Of fascist khaki's who threaten to pull,
Me to the depths of morosis.

How to escape the mindfield?
And re-rail the runaway brain.
The need to live and love and lust,
Is the way I focus my train,
Of thought on our stained red dust,
And S.A. writhing in pain.


This was written in Pretoria, South Africa between July 1 and August 23, 1993 - a year before the country's first democratic election. We were all hopeful about the future, but there was also an undercurrent of uncertainly. It was clearly the end of the Apartheid era, but was the Afrikaner Weerstandsbeweging (AWB - the ultra-right wing Afrikaner Resistance Movement) going to plunge the country into civil war? Would the ANC, PAC and Inkatha rip each other's hearts out? Would the new government ethnically cleanse the country of pink people? Would foreign investment vapourise and the country implode? Would there be food in the stores? Would there be blood on the streets? Would there be a future?

Man - it was a violent, crime-ridden and stressful time, but we all tried to to keep optimistic and to live our lives like there was no tomorrow. A lot of us were also asking ourselves whether we should leave the country or not. For me this was a tough call. I had moved to the UK to escape the Apartheid regime in the late 1980's and returned on the unexpected death of my father in 1990. I loved my country, but I had also tasted the world, and I liked it!

This was a late night piece, fuelled by whisky. Obviously bitter about the past, battling with the present and questioning the future.

Cheers MAlfaRK ©

The Song of the Germans in South Africa

At the beginning of July I was invited to the Eastern Cape to be a presenter at a seminar in King William's Town celebrating the 150th anniversary of the arrival of the German Settlers. It was a wonderful long weekend, and a great privilege to be a part of the event arranged by Stephanie Victor, the Curator of History at the Amathole Museum.

On July 4, the day before the seminar, I was catching up with Stephanie in her office at the museum and she showed me an interesting hand-written document. It was a song lyric for "Das Lied der Deutschen in Südafrika" - ostensibly "The Song of the Germans in South Africa". As time was tight (and my German rusty) I snapped a photo of the page for future reference.



Back in the United Kingdom I pulled up the photo and shot if off to my friend in Germany, Ingo Eggers, who transcribed the German and very kindly translated it into English. I also e-mailed Stephanie and asked her to provide me with some idea of the song's provenance. This is what she wrote back to me:

"The song was penned by Mrs W. Grunewald (nee Zehmke). She was interviewed by Desmond Kopke on 16.10.2000 when she was 87 years old. She grew up in Stutterheim and her husband worked for Nicholas and Mullin, a forestry company, at Fort Cunnynghame near Stutterheim. The song dates to the 1930s when a man by the name of Stracher, his wife and a young women only known as Gustie took the children on church camps for two weeks at a time. Mrs Grunewald was one of the children who participated and she remembers singing 'Das Lied der Deutschen' at the camps. Two-week camps were held at 'Fort Cunnynghame once and twice at Julius Muller’s that was just outside of Stutterheim and once at Berlin, that was a big empty house just when you pass Berlin.' It is possible that the camps were connected to the Lutheran Church.

According to Mrs Grunewald: 'We used to sing songs and hymns. It was nice you know all the young people together at camp. As I say, we were quite innocent then, but later when the war was on then we heard that he must have been a German spy, but I don’t know. He didn’t put us up against the English or anything.'

According to Mrs Grunewald the camps included: '... sports and exercises and cooking and setting the table and so on. And [the children were] from East London, King William's Town and Frankfort, Keiskamma Hoek and Stutterheim.' Two or three children were sent from each place. Hopefully the above provides you with some idea of the song's provenance but who originally wrote it still remains a mystery".

So, here it is, on the internet for the first time and also translated for your reading pleasure...

Das Lied der Deutschen in Südafrika

Wir sind viel tausend Deutschen
im heissen Afrika
getrennt durch Land und Meere
der Heimat dennoch nah
denn wir behalten behalten…

getreu die Jungen und die Alten
der Muttersprache gut
und wir behalten behalten
getreu die Jungen und die Alten
die Lieder frohgemut,
das deutsche Herz und Blut.

Wir tragen manche Sorgen
doch sind wir unverzagt
weil jetzt ein neuer Morgen
der alten Heimat tagt
und wir behalten behalten…

Wir schaffen und wir bauen
an einem fremden Strand,
mit festem Gottvertrauen
ein neues Heimatland
und wir behalten behalten…

The Song of the Germans in South Africa

We are many thousand Germans
in hot Africa
divided Separated by land and seas
the homeland however still near
because we treasure, treasure…

loyally [for] the Young and the Old
the mother-tongue dear
and we treasure, treasure…
loyally [for] the Young and the Old
the cheerful songs, [NOTE: also "songs of cheerful spirit"]
the German heart and blood.

We bear many worries
but we are undaunted
because now a new morning
is dawning for the old homeland
and we treasure, treasure…

We work and we build
on a strange shore
with steadfast faith in God
a new homeland
and we treasure, treasure…

With many thanks to Desmond Kopke, Mrs W. Grunewald, Stephanie Victor and Ingo Eggers. And, of course, to the German Settlers of 1858!

Cheers MAlfaRK ©

Two Before Madiba - For Marco Gerhard

The moment of birth - LIFE!
Non-biblical.
Miracle.
Kicking and screaming,
Not you.

The power to create - LIFE!
Feeling
Meaning.
The thrill of gravity,
You’re here.

The beauty and pain - LIFE!
Uplifting
Fulfilling
The brilliance of sight,
Welcome.

The quest for meaning - LIFE!
Infinity
Emotionality.
The purity of July 16,
Preserve it.

The baton twice passed - LIFE!
Fertility
Eternity.
The question is "why",
Ask it.

My brother’s passion - LIFE!
Marco
Mark.
Rubicon of 96,
My namesake.

We will connect……

I penned this at 20h15 on Thursday, July 11, 1996. My friends Gerhard and Liana Schröder were about to give birth to their second son in Pretoria, South Africa, and I was sitting in the Klementinum Mirror Hall in Prague, Czech Republic listening to a recital by the Stellenbosch University Choir...and thinking of them. Gerhard had asked me whether he could style his son's name after mine (using the form Marco), and I had proudly consented. Five days later the little man was born, and I had a poem to send them straight away!

Originally I called this piece "Soweto Plus a Month - For Marco Gerhard" as the birth took place exactly a month after the anniversary of the Soweto uprising of June 16, 1976 that created the momentum that ultimately led to the fall of Apartheid in South Africa. However, today is Nelson Mandela's 90th birthday, and Marco's celebrated his just two days earlier. I love and respect Madiba, and Marco is my beloved godson and so I think it's fitting (on the week that they both celebrate their existence) to change the title to something more uplifting, namely "Two Before Madiba - For Marco Gerhard". I hope that's OK with both of them...and long may they prosper!

Cheers MAlfaRK ©