Afzal Moola


Civilization by the bullet,
and by the whip.

They descended upon us,
with their fearsome piety.

They brought The Book,
and swept our collective pasts aside.

Scavenging for ore,
snouts in the trough,
the pillaging rarely ceased.

Gold. Women. Diamonds. People.
All commodities,
stripped and raped and sold and bought.

The schizophrenic benevolence of colonialism,
left us battered and bruised and almost broken.


But not quite.


the tides began turning,
winds of indignant defiance began rolling,
up through the hinterland,
and down to the sea.

The rising began,
in pockets,
then in swathes of the plundered country.

The rising took shape,
and found its coherent voice.

They were chased,
from our shores,
back to the northern lands that craved the sun.

And the gold. Women. Diamonds. Men.

This was centuries ago.


the craving persists.


they scavenge still,
never sated.

Till the rising shouts out,
once again,



Afzal Moolla was born in Delhi, India while his parents were in exile, fleeing Apartheid South Africa. 
He then travelled wherever his parent's work took them and he still feels that he hasn't stopped travelling. 
Afzal works and lives in Johannesburg, South Africa and shares his literary musings with his most strident critic - his 12 year old cat. 

(author retains copyright)