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Gedicht

Chris Magadza

THE PARTY

THE PARTY

THE PARTY

The lights are low;
The stereo booms
Throaty challenging
Evocative Zulu rhythms.

The guys sway hypnotised
By the erotic dance
Of the bulbous bottomed
Ethnic girls
Writhing to the enchanting beat.

In the dark corners,
Drumsticks and Castle beers in hand
Leftist Marxists in
Chrome-rimmed Leninist glasses
Puffing pedantic pipes,
Critically discuss
The Guardian article
About world opinion
Changing
Against South Africa.

Yes;
These liberation struggle parties
Are good contacts.

“Silly of Agate”, said one;
“He could have gone to Britain.”

It’s only Kaffirs
Like Biko
Who actually
Have to die.



Harare, 1984
Chris Magadza

Chris Magadza

(Zimbabwe, 1939)

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THE PARTY

The lights are low;
The stereo booms
Throaty challenging
Evocative Zulu rhythms.

The guys sway hypnotised
By the erotic dance
Of the bulbous bottomed
Ethnic girls
Writhing to the enchanting beat.

In the dark corners,
Drumsticks and Castle beers in hand
Leftist Marxists in
Chrome-rimmed Leninist glasses
Puffing pedantic pipes,
Critically discuss
The Guardian article
About world opinion
Changing
Against South Africa.

Yes;
These liberation struggle parties
Are good contacts.

“Silly of Agate”, said one;
“He could have gone to Britain.”

It’s only Kaffirs
Like Biko
Who actually
Have to die.



Harare, 1984

THE PARTY

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Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
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Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
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