The Entry: When He/She Came

With heightened voices,
Raised fists, open palms
And thumbs up
They sang.

Fathers, Mothers and Children
They sang.
Grandfathers and Grandmothers
Some on wheel barrows, others leaning on walking sticks,
They sang.
They all sang.

They sang songs that they were taught to sing,
Songs they were told to sing,
They sang songs they were forced to sing.

They were songs of praise,
Songs of hope,
Songs of thanks giving.
They were singing songs of Hero Worship.

They danced as they sang.
The women and girls stood in front and
Swayed to the songs they sang.
Some more suggestively,
As their natural curves willingly and at times forcibly
Flowed to the rhythm of the songs as they danced and sang.
The men and boys formed the backline as they chanted in encouragement,
In typical fashion.

The voices became even more louder and the dances more exaggerated
As word came that He/She was near.
One could see the dust building up clouds in the barren rural skies,
As cars drew near and nearer.
Cars that some had never seen before, all big and with dark windows.
They were a lot of cars.

Clean shaven men got out first
With their dark glasses and suits.
They were visibly sweating in the scorching heat of that day,
But they weren’t shaken as the forcibly paved the way for Him/Her.
They didn’t want him/her to be touched by the peasant hands.
He/She stepped out.
And they sang even louder, just as they had been ordered.
They even whistled and ululated…
All of them.
Fathers, Mothers and Children
They sang.
Grandfathers and Grandmothers
They sang.

As He/She walked through the multitudes of her ‘supporters’,
He/She smiled.
And waved in all directions, acknowledging them.
These were His/Her people.
They were happy and excited that He/She was here.
They had been bused, lorried, tractored and trucked from all the villages.
Some had even walked for hours to come as they were told,
To see Him/Her.

They were singing for Him/Her.
He/She was their Leader.
Forced or not forced.
Taught or not taught.
Told or not told.
They were singing for Him/Her.
He/She couldn’t care less really.
He/She was their leader.

As He/She stepped up to the podium.
They stopped singing.
Fathers, Mothers and Children
They stopped.
Grandfathers and Grandmothers,
Some on wheel barrows, others leaning on walking sticks,
They stopped.
They all stopped.
And then He/She said………..
I Am Dumi Sibanda