Stumbled across this while surfing the web. I suppose that’s how they perceived us.
And why not..
Zulu poem translated into English.
THE HERO OF BRITAIN
when we greet him, we call him: Steaming Body
when we give him a nickname, we call him Burning Body
when the imbongi gives him a name, it is: Damned Body
come! come and report here!
let everyone gather and observe well
let everyone assure themselves with regard to him and compare
let all the peoples come together to see what kind of creature he is
because he cannot be looked at and a person does not reach him in a straight-forward way
here comes the hero of Britain
a descendant of the buffalo cow, Victoria
that god-like woman in the land of humanity
she is like a ghost, wielding magic and a priest of war
here he comes, the son of George the Fifth
from the head house of the royal household
a man the colour of cow dung whose eyes shoot lightning
if he looks you in the eye you go blind
the cow-dung-coloured man – oh the single pat of dung
his eyes have a life of their own when he looks at you
here comes the son of the blackest cow dung in the kraal
here he comes with elder’s blue crane feathers
here he comes with the necklace of courage
and the soft apron of a duiker skin
he smells of scented herbs of the perfume of headmen
he reeks of mint
and the sweet-smelling grass of woven armbands
he smells of aromatic bushes and tamboti
his face is decorated with little white spots
he walks neatly on his toes like a leopard
come and report here you Philistine
hayi, Great Britain
here you come with a bottle in one hand and a Bible in the other
here you come with your vicar who is supported by a soldier
you come with gunpowder and bullets
with canon and guns
Forgive me O God, hear us, to whom must we listen?
he who tramples underfoot everything that is already trampled underfoot
pass on you who gloats over my country’s inheritance
long live the king
I have spoken, I have nothing more to say
I disappear like that star with its trail .