Stimela
There is a train that comes from Namibia and Malawi there is a train that comes from Zambia and Zimbabwe, There is a train that comes from Angola and Mozambique, From Lesotho, from Botswana, from Zwaziland, From all the hinterland of Southern and Central Africa. This train carries young and old, African men Who are conscripted to come and work on contract In the gold and mineral mines of Johannesburg And its surrounding metropolis, sixteen hours or more a day For almost no pay.
Deep, deep, deep down in the belly of the earth When they are digging and drilling that shiny mighty evasive stone, Or when they dish that mish mesh mush food into their iron plates with the iron shank. Or when they sit in their stinking, funky, filthy, Flea-ridden barracks and hostels. They think about the loved ones they may never see again Because they might have already been forcibly removed From where they last left them Or wantonly murdered in the dead of night By roving, marauding gangs of no particular origin, We are told. They think about their lands, their herds That were taken away from them With a gun, bomb, teargas and the gatling and the cannon.
And when they hear that Choo-Choo train A-chugging, and a pumping, and a smoking, and a pushing A pumping, a crying and a steaming and a chugging and A whooo whooo! They always cuss, and they curse the coal train The coal train that brought them to Johannesburg
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Stimela
Postoji voz koji dolazi iz Namibije i Malavija Postoji voz koji dolazi iz Zambije i Zimbabvea, Postoji voz koji dolazi iz Angole i Mozambika, Iz Lesota, iz Bocvane, iz Svazilenda, Iz svih delova unutrašnjosti južne i centralne Afrike. Voz koji prevozi stare i mlade, Afikance Koji su regrutovani da dođu i rade pod ugovorom U rudnicima zlata i drugih ruda kod Johanesburga Svud oko metropole, šesnaest i više sati dnevno Skoro bez plate.
Duboko, duboko, duboko dole u utrobi zemlje Gde kopaju i burgijaju taj moćni sjajni neuhvatljivi kamen Ili razmazuju bezobličnu kašastu hranu Gvozdenim nožem po gvozdenom tanjiru. Ili sede u svojim smrdljivim, užeglim, štrokavim Spavaonicama i barakama punim buva. Oni misle o dragim osobama koje možda više neće videti Jer su možda već oterane Sa mesta gde su ih ostavili Ili bezobzirno pobijene u gluvo doba noći Od ruke lutajućih bandi nepoznatog porekla, Tako nam kažu.
Oni misle o svojim zemljama, svojim stadima Koje su im oduzeli Pomoću puške, i bombe, i suzavca, i gatlinga i topa.
I kada čuju taj ćihu-ćihu voz Kako šklopoće, i brunda, i dimi se, i gura napred Brunda i ciči i dimi se i šklopoće Hu-huu! Uvek psuju, proklinjući voz za ugalj Koji ih je doneo u Johanesburg.
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