“One settler, one bullet!” Quotes in Mother to Mother
Were he to leave school before finishing high school, he would be sorry for the rest of his life. He would be part of the thousands upon thousands of young people who roam the township streets aimlessly day and night. That is how Mxolisi stayed long enough in school to become a high school student.
Unfortunately, it is in that high school that serious problems started. Mxolisi got himself involved in politics. Boycotts and strikes and stay-aways and what have you? Soon, he was a leader in students’ politics and many who didn’t know his face knew his name.
These children went around the township screaming at the top of their voices: LIBERATION NOW, EDUCATION LATER! and ONE SETTLER, ONE BULLET! And the more involved in politics he got, the less we saw him here at home.
Hayi, ilishwa!
Amabhulu, azizinja!
One settler, one bullet!
By the match stick, we shall free our nation!
“Oh, the road has been long, indeed. The songs came much, much later, I can tell you that. Before the songs, many others tried to rid our nation of the ones without colour, who had come from across the great sea.”
“Makana, the Left-Handed, prophesied outcomes similar to Nongqawuse’s. His magic would turn the bullets of the guns of abelungu to water.”
“At Isandlwana, with spear and shield, Cetywayo’s impis defeated the mighty British army and its guns.”
“Bulhoek, in Queenstown, is another example of resistance I can cite. Close to two hundred people murdered. Their sin? They wanted back their land and took possession of it, claiming it as their own. When they wouldn’t move, even by force, bullets were unleashed on them. But it was all to no avail. All to no avail. To this very day, abelungu are still here with us, Mzukulwana. The most renowned liar has not said they are about to disappear.”
That unforgiving moment. My son. Blood pounding in his ears. King! If for a day. If for a paltry five minutes ... a miserable but searing second.
AMANDLA! NGAWETHU! POWER! IT 1S OURS!
AMANDLA! NGAWETHU! POWER! IT IS OURS!
[…] Transported, the crowd responded; not dwelling on the significance of the word, deaf and blind to the seeds from which it sprang, the pitiful powerlessness that had brewed this very moment
And the song in my son’s ears. A song he had heard since he could walk. Even before he could walk. Song of hate, of despair, of rage. Song of impotent loathing.
AMABHULU, AZIZINJA!
AMABHULU, AZIZINJA!
BOERS, THEY ARE DOGS!
BOERS, THEY ARE DOGS!
[…] The crowd cheers my son on. One settler! One bullet! We had been cheering him on since the day he was born. Before he was born. Long before.
“One settler, one bullet!” Term Timeline in Mother to Mother
