Nine Sea Gulls of Tuan Yusuf

Now imagine I was holding the fence
of Tuan Yusuf’s first grave
and had a close look of the earth
that once absorbed his corpse.
Then observe my exit from the mausoleum
visiting the next four graves with four parallel markers
no names engraved except 99 Adjectives of God.
Four remains lay parallel here
they might be Tuan Yusuf’s
ulama, field commanders
they might be from Makassar, Bugis or Banten

Now imagine a black cannon
pointing at Africa’s horizon.
Follow me stepping back three centuries
remembering the West Java battles
when Tuan Yusuf was chief commander

Listen to the Faure wind whining
coming from two oceans shaking hands
at the northernmost cape
or at the freezing South Pole

Look at the leaves drifting in autumn
around the reddish bay
whispering softly whenever colours come and go

Can we picture Tuan Yusuf the sufi
deep, zikr enveloping his soul
his thought flowed through bamboo split pens
in red and black ink
seeping into three languages

Fantasize bones of the brave one
in a coffin
sailing more than 10,000 kilometers through two oceans
the west wind slapping seven sails
at the Celebes shores threw anchor
and people sobbing, lowering Syeikh Yusuf solemnly
into Lakiung earth
close to the place where his mother Aminah
bleeding giving birth

It is burdensome for me
to draw the imaginary lines of your face
as photography did not belong to your century
no painter was ever assigned by the bureaucracy
to do your five colour acrilic portrait
but I just envision
the masculine face of a 65 years old,
penetrating and enlightening eyes
light beard, deep voice, slim physique
speaking fluent Makassar Bugis Arabic Dutch and Malay

Those Low Land people were scared of you
the Governor and managers
of the crooked VOC business
deep down respected you.
But they had to exile you to Batavia, Ceylon,
and further 10,000 kilometers to Africa
as they did not want to be distracted
collected gold coins
neatly catalogued in iron imperialist trunks

Syeikh Yusuf, what was the format and physiology
of your genius and fearlessness?

Now have a look at the fog turning into round clouds
slipping down the Table Mountain
gracefully
facing two oceans

I feel autumn winds saying
you enjoy freedom today because three centuries ago
Syeikh Yusuf trampled barbed bristling weeds
and conquered forests of rattan thorns
for you

I hear zikr flows
dissolved into seven sea gulls flying
their wings rippling and singing.

Cape Town, 26 April, 1993.