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Quotes about Kalahari

Served With A Calabash

Visit me in the Kalahari Desert and,
Come and taste my sweet love with the heat of the sun;
And there you will meet my siblings waiting to serve you.
Visit me in the Kalahari Desert and,
You will see the moon already up high in the night of my love;
For the story of love is all that i have to serve to you!
Life is very hot out here and your love will cool me down,
For it is like the story of the Bushmen in the jungle;
But slowly you will come to understand things with me.
At times, it is like the snake with seven heads;
But with the river of love that flows beside me.
YOu have to carry your mat on your shoulders along,
For i will be there always to guide you onto the paths of love;
And my love will lead you like the sugar and the honey,
For the story of love is all that i have to serve you.
Come and learn my ways on this desert!
For it is served with a calabash to keep you at home;
And my mind will be at rest always with you.

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02-04-2012 Brother I give you my answer for Black People African Sahara it mesmerizes the wise largest desert it is asked of we What is Africa is to me 3.3 million miles of grea

Brother I give you my answer
for Black People

African Sahara
it mesmerizes the wise
largest desert
it is asked of we
What is Africa is to me
3.3 million miles
of great desert
once a forest
once a great sea
once an empty hole
in space just waiting
to be that it can
birth the blackness
of who my mothers be
3.3 millions
you can not see it all
Trans Saharan trade

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The Kalahari is brilliant - and easy to visit.

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Human beings are perhaps never more frightening than when they are convinced beyond doubt that they are right.

in The Lost World of the Kalahari (1958)Report problemRelated quotes
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Wild flowers

A speck of Kalahari desert
sun baked and stretching
as far as the eye could see
where winds had blown
red-brown sand before
the air was sweet with the odour
of thousands of wild flowers.

Everywhere were different colours,
shapes and sizes
and nature had set its garden
right there in the desert of Namakwaland
and the miracle that a few showers
of rain brought
stretched out all around me.

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Making Of Stars

The Making of Stars.

Long time ago before stars appeared,
nights were as black as standing inside
a mist of ink ejected by an octopus.

When stone-age man found how to lit
a fire, sparks flew up and slowly
the night sky had what we call stars.

When a star or spark dies a new one
will appear if not as many as before
now that we have electric light.

In Kalahari a tribe sits by the fireside
sparks fly upwards, they see to it we
always have stars on the night sky.

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Tears We Cry

Tears we cry, tears we cry
Sometimes tears Kalahari dry
Tears we cry, tears we cry

For others many tears
In us for us many fears
For us we haven't tears

Their aches hurt so
But our heartaches hurt too
Why then do we for theirs cry so?

Mine tears don't for me flow
Tears for they my mind blow
Like a virgin turn whore

Went to a funeral
Of a relation to my fellow
How my heart felt hollow

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What For? ...

The vast emptiness, which engulfs me,
Is so persistently painful,
If I gorge,
Until overindulgence,
Greed and hatred for myself.
I still - feel empty,
Hollow,
Hollow to the core,
Shallow, hatred and empty - even more.
For food, I know - won't fill my void,
Just detract from my emotional emptiness.
Inside, I'm as barren as the Kalahari,
With an ache as persistent as time,
And a pain as sordid as childbirth,
And a mind as twisted as mine.
In my world, I'm no longer playing,
Just an observer, wishing for more,
In my head, I'm no longer needed,
And my existence - I wonder,
What for?

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Mirage

Dust circles in motion
Heat dance on my shoes
Haunted by search and memory
Taunted by Kalahari day
Thirsty clouds break through the skies
Cricket armies start to hum
Pula e tla leng?
When will the rains come?

From the skies no word arrives
No echoes from the koppies
Only canopy of blue
That covers both the truth and dust
That would envelop me in lies.

A brief caress of breeze
On dry leaves of Acacia
But no relief for me
Perpetual on the desert ridge
Which overlooks but cannot reach

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Empire's Heart

I had to live in Empire's heart
Like a slave who could not find escape
Drawn by magnets, bound with ropes
Swept by dragnets to his fate

And my daughter had to grow up there
On the fringe of passing luxury
Where for blessings of humility -
There was little, it was late

It was not the dark Congolese heart
Nor the dry sweet Kalahari too
Where fish-eating is taboo
And they do not drain the lake

Where the flood is coming fast
Bearing minnows, beasts away
She will hold tight to the mast
In the ruins of the day

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