“Here
icons are humanised. Archbishop Tutu’s giggle becomes ‘a choir of
naughty angels.’ Everyday struggle is blessed. The unfashionable, like
the ‘hettie hare nie’ Cape Flats girls, is honoured un-patronisingly.
Looking back, looking forward, all the false certitudes of racialised
identity get stirred around in this poetic bredie. It affirms who we all
might be. Michael Weeder provides a voice needed in a time ‘ when
freedom still ain’t free.'”
