They Call me Shangaan, but I’m Hlengwe
You “original Swatis” as you call yourselves
what poor ignorant creatures you are!
The verge of foolishness has covered your faces
you call me Shangaan because you think you are insulting me
Don’t you know that the Shangaans are an ethnic group of Africans
just as you too are an African with your own ethnic group?
I know where I come from, and it is not from the Shangaans
I am a descendent of Chauke
the seed of Bhangwana, the father of my clan
I am one with the blood that runs in the Mabaso and Xahumba,
the Hakwana, Muhlengwe and Xinyori
I come from the Hasani and Xikhovela
I come from the Matsena and Mateka
I come from the Hlengwe of Chauke
and my totem is the Giant African Snail
I am from the Hlengwe ethnic group
the Hlengwe of VaTsonga
we Tsonga people are a complex people
the Shangaans are Tsonga as well, but not all Tsongas are Shangaans
I am from the Hlengwe of Chauke whose foundations are in Zimbabwe
and had spread throughout Southern Africa
Go to South Africa you will find the blood of my ancestors
in Mozambique, my people are there still
come to Eswatini, you will find my people still
run, flee and survive
father says he was a thirteen year old kid
when he fled mozambique
to work for the baas in south africa
father says mozambique was in raging flames
and before her death, his mother, my grandmother
told him to run, flee and survive
father says he was scared, but had to be brave
he had to flee, flee from the bullets
flee the booming bombs and dodge land mines
father says he was a kid when he held
his mother, my grandmother’s cold corpse
father says he watched his mother, my grandmother
choke with blood and held her head close to his ear
while she whispered he dying words “run, flee and survive”
father says he fled south africa because
the baas was a very bad man
I said “father, why not find a good baas”
father said “son, all baas was bad”
father showed me many scars in his back
scars that made me quiver and shiver with pain
he said it was the baas’ whip
father says he then fled to Eswatini
to work for the white man of britain
in his sugar plantation at mhlume
father says he was sixteen at that time
and was ten years older than me
I asked father what happened to his home, in mozambique
he said it was burnt to ashes, destroyed,
and no one survived but him, he says he went back after the war
father says this is how we came to be swati people
–Sabelo Chaukeis a graduate student in the Department of African Languages and Literature at the University of Swaziland.