Jag läser André Brinks självbiografi "A Fork in the Road" (ett reafynd) och blir mycket gripen av kapitlet han tillägnar poeten
Ingrid Jonker. Ovan citerar Nelson Mandela hennes säkerligen mest kända dikt "The Child". Här några rader från den.
The child is not dead
neither at Langa nor at Nyanga
nor at Orlando nor at Sharpeville
nor at the police station in Philippi
where he lies with a bullet in his head
The child is the shadow of the soldiers
on guard with guns saracens and batons
the child is present at all meetings and legislations
the child peeps through the windows of houses and into the hearts of mothers
the child who just wanted to play in the sun at Nyanga is everywhere
the child who became a man treks through all of Africa
the child who became a giant travels through the whole world
Without a pass
Översättning: 2007, Antjie Krog & André Brink: Black Butterflies:Publisher: Human & Rousseau, Cape Town, 2007
Ingrid Jonkers dikter finns också i norsk översättning. ("Røyk og oker " Cappelen förlag).
Thomas Nydahl har skrivit om Ingrid Jonker
HÄR.