for a drawing of memory
I carried my truth, my immense damage
from my cave in deep darkness to the light
now that the sun shines
upon Elsieskraal
I see again how Pa stands at the ruin of Okombara
peering into the yonder
thinking about the bitter zwazwa
that took Piet away
Piet Coetzee, but nobody talks
nobody, for such a long time
about his suicide at Okombara, next to Okombuka
close to Elsieskraal, our place of dusty books, unsteady shelves
for firewood for the blackbirds to jump out of the pie
to start singing about the sweet wine of Namibia
where they have forgotten me
about everywhere where no one knew about me
from Skellemsbos to Wondhoek
Piet Coetzee, but nobody talks
nobody, for such a long time
about his suicide at Okombara, next to Okombuka
close to Elsieskraal, our place of dusty books, unsteady shelves
for firewood for the blackbirds to jump out of the pie
to start singing about the sweet wine of Namibia
where they have forgotten me
about everywhere where no one knew about me
from Skellemsbos to Wondhoek
from Bulkop to Roggevlei
how brown was my valley, winter dry
to everywhere where no one caught me,
made me safe in green quiet held me softly, woke me up
everywhere, where no one comforted me
my mind twisted into memory loss
my psyche murdered
how brown was my valley, winter dry
to everywhere where no one caught me,
made me safe in green quiet held me softly, woke me up
everywhere, where no one comforted me
my mind twisted into memory loss
my psyche murdered
my voice smothered
Pa died in so much grief, and the Namibians
Pa died in so much grief, and the Namibians
probably by now, do discuss me, sometimes think of me
but Pa didn’t discuss me, he didn't catch me
he did not know
but he was remarkable
a lad from Banghoek Road, to the zinc house
he did not know
but he was remarkable
a lad from Banghoek Road, to the zinc house
to the attic room with all those bookshelves
to Skuilhoek’s hiding corner and back at home
to Skuilhoek’s hiding corner and back at home
at his beloved University of Pretoria
houses one after the other evacuated
with his brushes, easel, fountain pen, and ink
his desk heavy with Namibia mornings in watercolour documents
heavy with the snorting of Foekoe’s Landrover
heavy with bok shadows timidly jumping
in sparkling cold winter bright dew
my pa had a house: Elsieskraal
filled with lemmas
filled with children
filled with words
houses one after the other evacuated
with his brushes, easel, fountain pen, and ink
his desk heavy with Namibia mornings in watercolour documents
heavy with the snorting of Foekoe’s Landrover
heavy with bok shadows timidly jumping
in sparkling cold winter bright dew
my pa had a house: Elsieskraal
filled with lemmas
filled with children
filled with words
🦋🌿
© Annora Eksteen, 2025
