AN UNFORGIVING POEM

I was invited by my poetry professor to make contributions to a literary journal.

With just under twenty days to go to South Africa's Human Rights Day on which we commemorate the Sharpeville massacre of 1960 and the countless lives which were selflessly given up for the freedom and basic human rights of millions of others, I was thinking what I should include in my contribution.

The contribution, to my mind, would have to be relevant to what we could now term the South African diaspora.

Not long after The Truth and Reconciliation Commission hearings were completed, the South African poet, Roshila Nair, wrote a poem in recognition of the victims. A few years later I was asked to give my thoughts on the poem. This is what I wrote.



An analysis and critique


" TODAY WE FORGET SO EASILY WHAT MOTHERS HAVE SACRIFICED TO ENABLE COLLECTIVE DREAMS TO BEAR FRUIT. IF IT WASN'T FOR THEM WHERE WOULD WE BE TODAY ? "




an unforgiving poem

truth and forgiveness
are political epics
bigger and lonelier than words,
today i watched an old woman
recoil from the contrite hands of
patriot men who murdered her son
many years ago;
some say he lived long after
his flesh melted and his bones
turned the flames to ash,
some say it is the undoing of old women
to barricade their ancient bodies with so much hate,
these days it is easy to forget
that women gave birth to children
not nations or memories,
that anger holds the breaking soul
when there’s nothing left but words

- roshila nair -

At a hearing of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission Roshila Nair contemplates the meaning of sincere reconciliation and forgiveness and the failure in attaining it. An account is given of how an old woman’s son is killed by security force operatives. After she listens to their plea she must decide whether or not to forgive them.

Although Ms Nair is merely an observer at the hearings and has no axe to grind, her feelings toward the security officers are guarded while she is tearfully sympathetic towards the old woman who has suffered a formidable loss. Her free verse is delicate and filled with despair.

All words are shown in lower case to effect a tone of humility. In one angry, unforgiving and breathless swoop of the quill she preoccupies us with the inefficiency of words and the old woman’s uncharacteristic inability to forgive.

Politically motivated acts of violence and heroism as well as the act of forgiveness as monumental acts of courage, love and humility are alluded to in “ truth and forgiveness / are political epics / bigger and lonelier than words , “ . It is suggested that the act of forgiveness far outweighs mere words of confession. The isolation of self-sacrifice and suffering is keenly felt.

Horror and fear are seen in the old woman in “ today i watched an old woman / recoil from the contrite hands of / patriot men who murdered her son / many years ago , “ . We see how men of power become meek. They humiliate themselves before a frightened old woman who is traumatised and heartbroken. Before the foot soldiers of her oppression all emotion is drained from the old woman as she shrinks mentally. There is irony in these lines in that these bewildered men once believed that their deeds were committed in the name of their country, not recognising that their country belonged to the old woman and her son too.

The vivid imagery and powerful symbolism of “ some say he lived long after / his flesh melted and his bones / turned the flames to ash , “ accentuates the brutal murder of the boy. While a word such as “ ash “ connotes death these lines also celebrate the living spirit of the murdered son. He may have still been alive when he was set alight. These lines allude to the practice of burning the victim to hide the evidence of the crime of murder. It also hints at the opposite extreme of “ necklass-burning “ , methods used by the security operatives’ nemesis in the townships.

The alliterated words “ lived long after “ reflect that the spirit of this brave, young soldier of liberation lives on even after his bones have turned to ash. The spirit triumphs over evil and no degree of flames can consume it. The memory of the mother’s son is preserved and revered.

In “ some say it is the undoing of old women / to barricade their ancient bodies with so much hate, “ we see any possibility of forgiveness disappear. “ Hate “ is a strong word. It is not expected nor customary for fragile old women who were once strong and protective, yet also strong and sensitive, to be filled with hate. Through grievous circumstances they have built a wall of displeasure and bitterness around them. They dislike their oppressors immensely. Having lived for far too long in an endless cycle of oppression, their losses too severe to bear, they cannot find it in themselves to forgive and have thus become harbingers of hatred. This is their “ undoing “ .

The last lines “ these days it is easy to forget / that women gave birth to children / not nations or memories , / that anger holds the breaking soul / when there’s nothing left but words. “ is sadly ironic. Anger is tantamount to hate and it is not an endearing quality for an old woman, yet it keeps her alive. Today we forget so easily what mothers have sacrificed to enable collective dreams to bear fruit. If it wasn’t for them where would we be today?

They are not responsible for the bitter memories of the past, yet they are its biggest casualties. Every ounce of their desires, so crucial to life, is drained from them. Their motherly instinct are sapped from their undernourished bodies. Their anger is passed on to surviving children and today moral decay has set in. The bond of nationhood broken and only a true act of forgiveness will mend that bond. Sincere acts of reparation, not just words of confession, are required to allow their wounds to heal, coaxing them back to their rightful place as matriarchs of our nation.