A gift of life is life itself

At my knees

As I burn an incense,

early hours of the morning.

Fire from a candle,

A nip of gin, a shot to myself,

shot to my great warrior kings and queens

My dearest forefathers

a tin of snuff in my hand

Trying to connect with my inner being

Tradition that lingers on

An act of African customs

Significant gesture of gratitude

Calling them by their traditional names

oMvundle, oMsuthu, oBhayi ka Khetshe

I thank their riveting spirit

To have cleared my foot path,


endlessly watched over my head.


I weeped,

with content,

counting all my blessings.

It’s no mystery I’m still standing

Be it on the sideline or mainline

Life itself exceeds all benefits

As I mark three decades

and some odd years,

Bant’abadala (my ancestors)

You giving me a gift of life,

Yet for another try, for another day

Well packaged in a form of a birthday.

I shall continue with the cause

Rising and falling against the odds,

Just keep the light burning.

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