Spectre Song
Recall the ghosts
Of GuriQua
Who walked the coasts
Of Helena
Recall the day
Of CochoQua
Who found the bay
Of Saldanha
Recall the place
Of Khoi-Khoi past
With faded face
In shadows cast
Recall the name
Of Adam Kok
And what remains
Of Baster stock
Recall the sound
Of clicking tongue
Whose notes abound
In songs still sung
Rich Harvest
Tamer of beasts
Patron of feasts
Guardian of earth
Giver of birth
Tender of sheep
Sower who reaps
Herder of cattle
Farmer who battles
Wearer of thongs
Dancer of songs
Tribes who find-seek
Clans who click-speak
Hunter of roots
Bearer of fruits
Master of whale-traps
Reader of wind-maps
People of chiefs
Reaper of sheafs
Makers of law
Harvest no more
Melting Pot
From dry salt lakes
To southwest sands
Their dust-path snakes
Through time-baked lands
They were the first
Pastoralists found
With seed dispersed
On nurturing ground
Left in their wake
Cape beaches are strewn
With clay-moulded shapes
And tools from iron hewn
Cut with the scythe
Of settlers’ disease
Fate’s bitter tithe
Still haunts the sea-breeze
Those who survive
Reconcile their lot
To mix and thrive
In the melting pot
— Wayne Visser