(for Brian Yankee Mokae Mogaki –
25.09.1971 – 03.06.2026)
Fare thee well Mr Miyagi
Go well Mozart
Goodbye Sir
Go go Bushman tour guide
We shall all follow your spoor
To where no one knows
You nominal Anglican and passionate traditionalist
You kept the memory of your people alive
Relishing their folklore
Like a crocodile ready to pounce
Upon its prey
Are the fangs of death a little mightier?
Surely death is a shameless thief
It left us bored and stiff
No more storms in a coffee mug
Of lively debates
Boisterous laughter down a sweaty pate
How oft-times it irritated me
When you knew all so well
I was dead serious
There you stand today having the last laugh
Ridiculing me one more time
Come again my friend I beg your pardon
I’m not teasing you now
No more days of clever arguments
Week in weak out
My mother often asked
Where is Mokae?
No
A young man his age ought not
To have failing kidneys
-I’m not kidding you now-
This is handwork this is African science
It is bound to happen if you’re loved at work
Western medicine cannot solve this
Go my son
Tell his people to consult an African herbalist
If they do believe in such things
Forgive me my friend
I came too late
In the past few days her queries were more
Incessant than before
My elephant legs got the better of me
This past Sunday I found you comatose
And was denied admission
To see a friend most dear one more time
Three days later
You were late
Go home Yankee
Go home Nguni cow
I will always cherish your memory
This day a part of me has died
Mbongeni Khumalo: Author of poetry collection apocrypha