Many years ago now, I stopped in at a pub on my way back from Hermanus. it was a very stormy, rain sodden late Wednesday afternoon. and my car took a turn ive never taken before or since. the proprietor of the pub and 2 patrons where several glasses of something very powerful ahead and the mood was extremely somber. joining an existing volatile conversation between an established trio can be challenging. especially when 1 is a very drunk off duty policeman, the other is a provocateur poet and the third a lawyer. in South Africa communication between locals is a mixture of languages, which makes the brain much sharper not to offend. so between arriving and then reading the proprietors dark Afrikaans poetry out loud to the other 3 gentlemen all spilled around the rough bar counter, was a very slow 2 beer conversation. i still needed to drive a considerable distance home - over a pass that has claimed many a wrong turn life.
my mother is from an Afrikaans background and my dad is second generation South African Dutch with a good measure of local woven between. we speak only English at home. so upon reading these very powerful dark Afrikaans poems i was struck by the immense imagery the Afrikaans language can conjure up in ones mind, much more descriptive to my mind than English. especially i find haunting emotional feelings. for an unknown, not especially looking to complement reason, i mentioned to the proprietor that Afrikaans is by far the most intense and powerful language to create poems in. he asked me why i had not given it a try yet - i mentioned , i felt it would be phony for me to dabble in this not my home language medium. a language i was considered a "soutpeel" in. his quick decisive response of - "absolute RUBBISH, Afrikaans poets write in English!" led me on the long drive home to a split second moment at another pub, deep in the Karroo, many, many years previous. when the glimpse of a look in the eye and the reaching for another glass, gives you a split second insight into a life being lived. from the perspective that a frowned thruppel of beers can conjure up.
waar kry jy hierdie man Halene?
Jy is getroud , maar nogsteeds alleen.
Jy soek vir iets wat is nie daar,
Jou lewe is mooilik , jou hart is swaar.
onder stil water jy sal hier bly.
met hierdie man, jy het gekry.
QJD - wordsmid swaardvegter - 2011
the veil of mystery and emotion over this short afrikaans poem is for me, far more powerful than the poem i wrote in english of the maidens stare 2009 - which was a far more haunting subject. this poem is what it is and its just a simple sketch, its not meant to be anything other than the outlet of a brief wild crazy conversation on a dark and stormy night.
