As I stand this morning in this queue I reflect on things that have happened since the beginning of this mess on the land of our fathers and mothers. I ask myself if political leadership is indeed what we need and should be striving for, if the meaningless competition between individuals is really our saving grace. Democratic elections they call it, free election they term it. Democracy to who, for what? Free to forget where you come from and what you stand for, in exchange for a T-Shirt and “Amandla” shouting leaders.
My wonder is do these “Leaders” even remember or know the truth of this land? Do they care if the truth about the blood that covered the fields our cattle grazed is told? Are they just, are they genuine? Most of all are they for the people? I am wondering if I should continue voting for the same western civilized laws that have eroded the morals of this continent, the economic systems that continue to keep the majority poor for the benefit of the few. If I should buy the same story Sold by same mouths in different related colours and equally flawed repetitive manifestos yet claim to be different. I am extremely grateful of the sacrifices of many but remain doubtful that this is actually what they died for. My heart bleeds for the nations torn apart for political gain, the land that is still occupied by those who claim to have found it with no-one living on it, the farms that still benefit a few without even tittle deeds. I am an African, filled with love, welcome those who roam my land and offer them refuge just like my fore-parents did. I am the grandson of Kholokoe, the nation that lost it’s land and had their identity stolen by false history. I am the blood of Wetsi/Oetsi spilled in a cave that ate the nation of Kholokoe for their cattle wealth. I am the Grandson of Khetsi, the fruit of the tree with intertwined roots called Tabane and Mathulare. I am of the soil, motho e mosotho ka mmala, I am of Kholokoe, Ke Morena MATHOLELA.......
