The soil remembers.
By Nomfundo Mkhaba
It hums beneath cracked heels and calloused palms,
whispering names of those who once prayed, danced and sang rain
into heavenly showers of blessings.
Before fences, before mines,
before the silence of poisoned and bloody rivers,
there were hands that knew how to speak through the soil.
Earth bearers
who heard the silence between roots.
Ancestors who spoke to seeds like kin,
giving life to a covenant between hunger and hope.
They buried prayers in the furrows,
and the earth, faithful and fierce, answered in green.
Now, the same hands sift through plastic and ash,
searching for tomorrow in yesterday’s waste.
Their sweat dries before the rinse can come,
Water, a promise too scarce to keep.
Dust clings like memory
And the grime becomes a second skin.
Without clean streams to wash away the day,
Their bodies bear the burden of the earth’s neglect.
Rashes bloom where rivers once ran,
And thirst whispers louder than hunger.
The wind, heavy with a stench of death,
carrying stories of drought and displacement,
of children walking miles for water laced with rust,
chemicals and seeps of our neglect,
unaware of the dangers that lurk in the distance.
Still, the elders gather under the marula tree,
their voices weaving and sharing memories into medicine.
They speak of balance.
How the land mirrors the heart.
How healing one
demands
healing the other.
A healer crushes leaves between her fingers,
the scent rising like truth,
Reminding us that we are not separate from the soil we wound.
Each scar on the mountains breathes with the rhythm of our healing,
our story of becoming whole.
Each flood is a mirror reflection of what we are still to remember together,
even in the pages of history.
In the cracks of despair, resilience grows.
Farmers plant with trembling faith,
their sweat baptising the ground once again.
Children drawing rivers on classroom walls,
imagining them full again,
carrying memories of the silent sweeps of swollen currents
they cross when the rain returns.
Communities gather in numbers
barefoot
to reclaim what was stolen.
Not just land, but the DNA of our becoming,
scattered and unsettled.
The land is not dying, it is calling.
Its pulse beating beneath the rubble,
beneath the noise of profit and politics.
It asks, will we remember the rhythm of care and community?
Will we return to the circle,
where healing was not just a word but a way of living?
Because when the soil breathes, so do we.
When the rivers run clear, our spirits rise.
When justice takes root,
the land and its people,
both wounded, both sacred,
gloriously
live again.
Nomfundo Mkhaba (she/ her/ they) is a grassroots climate and environmental activist, educator, and community developer based in Umkomaas, KwaZulu Natal. As well as being a steering committee member for the Climate Justice Coalition, she is the founder of Omama Bemvelo, an initiative that creates jobs for unemployed mothers and youth through recycling hubs and waste management projects. Her work focuses on environmental sustainability, gender equality, and economic justice, with a strong commitment to mental health and psychosocial support for vulnerable communities. Nomfundo collaborates with local schools, community groups, and national campaigns to promote climate awareness, literacy, and sustainable livelihoods across South Africa.