Red Earth & Rust

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WIND

I can almost see their faces
Floating beyond my mind
Somewhere beyond the sea mist
Just the other side of the wind
Somewhere beyond the sea mist
Just the other side of the wind

Here the painted eland dreams
Footprints across the sky
And the salt-leached light
Teases the mind’s eye
The salt-leached light
Oh it teases the mind’s eye

Here’s the sound of salt and silence
Of things growing slow
And the rhythm of a rubbing stone
Against the sea’s ebb and flow
The rhythm of a rubbing stone
Against the sea’s ebb and flow

Here’s a white bone taps a taut string
A note that haunts the mind
If you listen you will hear it
Just the other side of the wind
If you listen you will hear it
Just the other side of the wind

If you listen you will hear it
Just the other side of the wind

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WIND
I wrote this after a visit to Elandsbaai. There is a large cave facing out to sea with a rock painting of an eland in it. In addition there are dozens of hand prints from floor to roof, all of a red-earth colour. I stood there and fancied I could feel the presence and hear the voices of those long ago people – voices floating on the wind: could hear the sound of their activity; the making of ostrich eggshell beads and the slow rhythmic sound of a rubbing stone grinding pigments for painting. In my mind I could hear their voices chanting to the soft twang of a mono-stringed instrument as the eland stepped down from his cave wall to walk across the sky.

• Barbara Fairhead