HEAL yr self

A Blues For Zim

Sagcina sesibizana ngama zimu zimu
Obabamkhullu besixoxela ngesimo sabase Mzansi
Sagcina sesithi singabase Ningizimu
The stories were told and retold and the drum interpreted
Whispering our half forgotten names
Gondwana – Azania – KwelikaMthaniya
And since that first misunderstanding
We’ve been drifting further and far from each other
Lending our minds, body and souls to the confounding ways of invaders
We’ve been drifting in-between wombs and unmarked tombs
Doing other peoples heavy lifting
We’ve been drifting with no direction
Until the discovery of our Souls purpose
Through song
But not just any oold rock-shuffle and roll
Not just any bubble-twiddle-the thumbs – gum
We were as ghosts trapped in concrete and bricks
Until we recovered Jazz, exhumed Jazz…
And our Jazz prophets and apostles became
The ARCH- Anthropologists – the Ebony Egyptologists
The translucent psycho-analysts of our time
This time of perplexity where our children’s bodies pave the corners of stone cold cities
These Jazz messengers showed us where and how to dig
Because Jazz is not just for listening
You’ve got to not just like it but u got to dig it
Dig it like Simphiwe Dana travelling through digital spaces
Arm in arm with Biko or Tiro, Taiwa – the Troubled Soldiers
In the know – u got to dig it like Miles doing
Digging it for Tutu, Trane digging Naima and Alice Coltrane digging the Spirits of the Ancients
U got to dig it like McCoy eyiphonsa ngasemva…!
Jazz showed us whose got the map so that we can run the voodoo down from Pillar To Post…