class of 76

they oozed from each corner of soweto flooding the streets of our beloved ghetto, singing loud and proud (khaw'leth'umshin'wam!) "turn up the volume,that's my favourite song", said an old man who sat in the shade, they marched forcefully like the army camouflaged in black and white... demonstrating a racial issue. "guerrilla ga ga ga...howzit!" society was electrified by these songs amateur fist fights hitting the air, placards that spoke of freedom scraped the sky...stories from eyes that hid behind windows tell of ties around their necks,"they had a suicidal mindset",a teacher elaborates. then red on white skined men came from downtown jozi,wit hummers and trucks loaded with militant men...their hands heavy from holding a.k's and grenades in their pockets, it was a case of david meets goliath... chests strapped with bullet proof vests, their leader spoke through a loud speaker, but his threats fell on deaf ears... the natives refused to surrender in their own land...they sang of their leaders "nelson mandela,walter sisulu...the list was endless" untill another song began... they say infant cries were heard, yet the shooting never stopped... it was as if the white men were saying "shut up you bloody kaffir!!" i've never felt the sting of an a.k., but those who did,said it stings like a virgin's first taste of sex, those who saw it speak of the wounds on their backs...i sing this song in the memory of the class of seventy six, "senzenina...senzenina..senzina..."