ISIDE MY ZULU HUT Oswald Mbuyiseni Mtshali

It is a hive

without any bees 

to build the walls

with golden bricks of honey. 

A cave cluttered 

with a millstone, 

calabashes of sour milk 

claypots of foaming beer 

sleeping grass mats 

wooden head rests 

tanned goat skins 

tied with riempies 

to wattle rafters 

blackened by the smoke 

of kneaded cow dung 

burning under 

the three-legged pot 

on the earthen floor 

to cook my porridge.