The Song of The Adivasi

By Sithanthi Alfred

I am that rock

Embedded in the hill

The dynamite is there

Awaiting for the signal

To blast and crush me

I  become sand, manufactured.

I was that sand once

At the bottom of river bed

Until they wiped clean

To let the river flood

And drown the villages

I was that happy fish

In the natural lake

Until it ran out

Of water and protection.

I was that bird

In that tall palm tree

Surveying everything around

The village, the lake

The river, the fields

Until I could not

Sit and sing anymore

I was throttled.

I was that young kid

Naughty and forever straying

Away from the herd

Only to view the scenes

From precarious points

On hills and mountains

Till I turned into a trespasser.

I was that big,black buffalo

Sweetly swimming 

In my own private pond

When I was chased out

For being a dirty buffalo.

I was that mud pot

On the stove cooking rice

On the ground holding

Cold water for the tired farmer

I am that soil

That will not leave ever

I change forms, color and texture

The source is who I am.

By Sithanthi Alfred