Bulawayo
Bulawayo, Bulawayo
Bulawayo, Bulawayo

When I was a little baby boy
We lived near Bulawayo
We go down to the market there
Walking in the dusty streets
Riding on my daddy’s back
Holding my sweet mamma’s hand
Seeing the crowds of people there
Down in Bulawayo

And the people there say
Hummel uppa kaya
Hummel uppa kaya (Footsack, Footsack)
Hummel uppa kaya
Hummel uppa kaya (Footsack, Footsack)
Hummel uppa kaya
Hummel uppa kaya (Footsack, Footsack)
Go on home you country folks
Don’t come near Bulawayo

Bulawayo, Bulawayo
Bulawayo, Bulawayo

When I grew I went to school
I went to school in Bulawayo
We go to the schoolhouse there
Walking in the dusty streets
holding my big brother’s hand
Holding my little sisters hand
Seeing the crowds of schoolboys there
Down in Bulawayo

And the schoolboys all say
Hummel uppa kaya
Hummel uppa kaya
Hummel uppa kaya
Hummel uppa kaya
Hummel uppa kaya
Hummel uppa kaya
Go on home little country boy
Don’t come to school in Bulawayo

Bulawayo, Bulawayo
Bulawayo, Bulawayo

When I grew to be a man
I worked in Bulawayo
I walked through the market there
Walking through the dusty streets
My papa died and my mamma’s home
I walked all there alone
Saw the crowds of people there
Down in Bulawayo

And the workers there say
Hummel uppa kaya
Hummel uppa kaya
Hummel uppa kaya
Hummel uppa kaya
Hummel uppa kaya
Hummel uppa kaya
Go on home little worker boy
Don’t work in Bulawayo

Bulawayo, Bulawayo
Bulawayo, Bulawayo

Then it was one dusty day
We marched to Bulawayo
Our heads and our voices high
Our hand and our hearts were high
Marching in the dusty streets
The police never let us be
So many people died that day
They died in Bulawayo

And the police there said
Hummel uppa kaya
Footsack, footsack
Hummel uppa kaya
Footsack, footsack
Hummel uppa kaya
Footsack, footsack
Go on home all of you
You will die in Bulawayo

Bulawayo, Bulawayo
Bulawayo, Bulawayo


(spoken)
Go on down, down, down
Down past Chisamba
Down, down,
Down past Ribawi
Down,
Down to the Kafue Gorge
Of the Zambezi River
Down where the water is deep
and the banks are narrow
Beautiful country there
Down, down,
Down in Matabeleland
In Matabeleland, the earth is red
It is red, some say for the blood of the patriots
Down in Matabeleland
Named for Matabeles, the great red ants
that march in armies across this land
It is said they own this territory
And maybe they do,
I know they can march through your house as if it was not there,
And strip it of anything edible in a matter of minutes
It is said they have carried off babies and small children
I cannot speak for that.
Everywhere I walk
I hear strange sounds
I hear the women weeping
Crying for the fatherland
I hear the men yelling
Yelling for freedom
Crying for the motherland
I hear the children crying
For hunger and for thirst
In sickness and in health
Crying for the red mother earth
Down in Matabeleland
Down in Bulawayo
And I hear the great leaders
And politicians of our country
(silence)

Bulawayo, Bulawayo
Bulawayo, Bulawayo

Now I am an old man
I don’t go to Bulawayo
I stay home with my chickens
My goats and my pigs
I carry my grandson’s high
He holds his grandma’s hand
I don’t see the crowds of people there
Down in Bulawayo

The people there who say
Hummel uppa kaya
Footsack, footsack
Hummel uppa kaya
Footsack, footsack
Hummel uppa kaya
Footsack, footsack
Stay home old country man
Don’t come near Bulawayo

Bulawayo, Bulawayo
Bulawayo, Bulawayo

© Dougal Bichan