Written piece
Gauteng o Ja Batho English Translation of title Gauteng Eats Its People
Thabiso Lakajoe
South Africa
About this piece
Original
Thothokiso ena e tebileng e tswa pokellong ya dithothokiso e bitswang "Gauteng o ja batho", e pepesa nnete e sehloho ya ho fallela toropong. Toropo ke sebata se jang ditoro le ho bjabjaretsa semelo sa Sesotho, se siya meya e robehileng e batla metso e fodisang ya lapeng kapa hae.
English translation
This is a visceral piece from the "Gauteng o ja batho" poetry collection, exposing the brutal realities of urban migration. The city is a beast that consumes dreams and erodes Sesotho identity, leaving broken souls to seek the healing roots of home.
GAUTENG O JA BATHO
Gauteng ha e je batho feela, e sila le ona masapo. Re tlile re le batsomi, ra fetoha diphofu. Re ne re tshepile ho tjheka kgauta, Empa ra iphumana re tjheka mabitla a ditoro. Sebutla sena ha se na pelo, se na le mala feela. Se a re phephetsa, se a re thetsa, se a re metsa. Re re re sebedisana le yona? Mashano! Yona e sebetsana le rona. E re bjabjaretsa jwaloka kgodumodumo, ha e qeta e re tshwella ka thoko. Gauteng! Ha o motswadi, o mohohlo wa lefu.
Re siile mobu wa baholo o ntse o re bitsa. Baena ba setse ba tadimile tsela, mahlo a le mafubedu. Re jere mekotla e tletseng ditshepiso tsa bohata, Di boima jwaloka thaba, di nkga mosi wa sebabole. Toropo ena e re roka mahlwana a naketsana, E re fa dikatiba tsa tshepe le matshwafo a lerole. E re fetola makgoba a teke, Re baphaphathehi ba balehang seriti sa bona. Gauteng! O re tshepisitse kganya, wa re fa lefifi la matshwafo.
Ra utlwa monate wa "Vrr-pha!", ra lebala tsela e yang hae. Ra itjella sebe ka kgabore, hae ra hana ho kgutlela. Kajeno leleme le thatafetse Sesotho se fetohile sethotsela. Re bua "Setsotsi kapa Scamtho," re lebala "dithoko le dithothokiso." Re bua "Tjhelete," re lebala "Botho." Re lla sa mmokotsane empa ha re a shapuwa ke motho, Re shapuwa ke concrete le neon e se nang mohau. Re lahlehetswe ke lentswe, ra sala re le dimumu tse rutehileng.
Tsie e fofa ka mokota, empa rona re fofa re le lefeela. Re dinonyana tse kgaotsweng mapheo ke boMashonisa. Re baleha sa mmutla o tsongwa ke ntja ya bofuma. Ke nako ya ho itjheholla kgobeng ba ditshepi! Pele Gauteng e re dubisa thankga, Pele e re bolaisa thupa ya tshepe. Rona ha re metso, re makala a ommeng a fefolwang ke moya.
Gauteng ha e kgathetse ke rona, e a re tshwela. Ha e re lokolle ka lerato; e a re hlatsa. Re kgutlela hae re le basesane, re le dithotsela. Re sena sente, re sena peni, re sena moya. Dihlooho di se di le putswa, di tletse boladu ba toropo. Batho ba a re tsheha, ba re "Bona, makgowa a kgutlile!" Empa hae ke botshabelo, ke moo metsi a hlatswang madi. Moo re tla phuthelwang ka kobo ke baholo ba re emetseng, Ba re: "Kgutla, ngwanaka. Gauteng e o jele, empa masapo a sa phela."
English translation
GAUTENG EATS PEOPLE
Gauteng does not just eat people; it grinds their bones to dust. We came here as hunters, but we became the prey. We came expecting to dig for gold, But found ourselves digging the graves of our own dreams. This Monster has no heart, only intestines. It challenges us, it deceives us, it swallows us whole. We say we are working with the city? Lies! The city is working through us. It chews us like kgodumodumo, sucking out the juice, and spitting out the husk. Gauteng! You are not a parent; you are a canyon of death.
We left the soil of our ancestors calling our names. Our brothers remained behind, watching the road with red eyes. We carry bags filled with false promises, Heavy as mountains, smelling of sulphur smoke and petrol. This city tricks us with the eyes of a lover, But gives us hats of heavy steel and lungs full of dust. It turns us into slaves of the coin, Drifters running away from our own shadows. Gauteng! You promised us light, but you gave us the darkness of the mines.
We tasted the sweetness of the fast life and forgot the path home. We ate sin with a spoon and refused to return. Today, the tongue is stiff our Sesotho has become a ghost. We speak "Setsotsi or Scamtho" and forget the "Poem." We speak "Cash" and forget "Humanity." We cry the tears of the beaten, but no man touched us, We are beaten by concrete and neon lights that have no mercy. We have lost our voice and remain educated mutes.
The locust flies with a full stomach, but we fly empty. We are birds whose wings have been clipped by loan sharks. We run like a hare hunted by the dog of poverty. It is time to pull ourselves out of this trap! Before Gauteng turns us into mud, Before it beats us with an iron rod. We are no longer the roots; we have become dry leaves blown by the wind of the highway.
When Gauteng is tired of us, it spits us out. It does not release us with love; it vomits us. We return home thin, wasted by the city’s disease. With no cent, no penny, no spirit. Our heads are grey, filled with the pus of the city. The people laugh at us, they say, "Look, the White Men have returned!" But Home is the sanctuary, where the water washes the blood. Where the elders wait to wrap us in blankets, Saying: "Come back, my child. Gauteng has eaten you, but the bones are still alive."