Nomalungelo I. Gouda

“For Indigenous peoples, land cannot be owned, bought, or sold. She does not belong to us, we belong to her. We are born out of this land; we spend our lives on this land as her guests; and after death we go back to that same land. Although Indigenous peoples around the world vary widely in their customs, traditions, rituals, languages, and so on, land is considered by all as the center of their universe, a parent, a giver of life, the core of our cultures, rituals, and traditions.” ~ Nomalungelo I. Gouda



Not of father nor of mother

Was my blood, was my body.

I was spellbound by Gwydion,

Prime enchanter of the Britons,

When he formed me from nine blossoms,

Nine buds of various kind;

From primrose of the mountain,

Broom, meadow-sweet and cockle,

Together intertwined,

From the bean in its shade bearing

A white spectral army

Of earth, of earthly kind,

From blossoms of the nettle,

Oak, thorn and bashful chestnut –

Nine powers of nine flowers,

Nine powers in me combined,

Nine buds of plant and tree.

Long and white are my fingers

As the ninth wave of the sea.


translated by Robert Graves