Khoi Clan Leader

I smoke my dagga, sitting on my rock,
The sea and storms have brought the strangest clan:
Our space can’t hold their cattle and our stock
And we will fade as they will seize our land.

Now I have almost lived my life’s full span
And look out over sea and shore; take stock
Of future for my tribe while I still can
By smoking dagga, sitting on this rock.

Remembering those floating caves unlock,
Disgorging Khoi-like people on our sand.
Men build earth-caves and stay past season’s clock.
The sea and storm had brought the strangest clan.

Some Khoi ingratiate themselves and pan-der
To the world-weird men. I see they mock
Our ancient ways; they steal our herds and scan
Our space to hold their cattle, not our stock.

Negotiate? Deny our laws and shock
Us; hedge us out to execute greed’s plan.
So, one day, decimated by their pox,
We Khoi-khoi fade, and they will seize our land.

I smoke my dagga.