Who are these
Who stand in the ploughed fields
Wearing stolen cloaks
In the setting sun,
Casting long cold shadows
On the young crop?
Who are these
With fattened faces
And little eyes
That see neither the sun
Nor the hungry mother?
Who are these
Who speak with twisted tongues
And straddle the village path
And sit on the cooking pot?
Who are these
Who ride over the
Black village rooster
In chariots of fire;
That consume the air
And starve the land?
Who are these that rape
Their sisters and defile
Their grandmothers?
Who are these
That urinate
On the ancestors’ graves
And defecate
In the village well?
Tell me . . .
Ye empty barefooted ghosts
That bear false arms;
Ye young scoundrels
Barely weaned
That call yourselves
War veterans
To frighten the hungry lame;
Where did you bury
The heroes?
Where is Chaminuka?
Where is Nehanda?
Where is Tongogara?
Where is Goodson Sithole?
Where is Rashiwe?
Where is Chitepo?
Where are the Olds?
Where is Stevens?
Harare, 2000