In the heartland of the Great Kalahari,
Where great dunes of sand lie red
And where Bushmen once dwelt…
“This place we’ll call Ga-Segonyana,” they said.

The centre of the Bushmen’s existence
Was a natural, bubbling fountain
And the clear source of life
Was called “The Eye”.

And so the culture of our people grew,
Just like the diversity of our plant- and wildlife,
It evolved to greatness,
Where every day brings something new…

Every morning the sun rises
And tints the dunes a red copper.
When the night falls
The “gemsbok” goes to sleep and the hadida cries.

As the sun sets in the golden sky
The people of Ga-Segonyana go to rest.

by S van Zyl

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Ga-Segonyana, our little Calabash,
To whom, so proud a name?
The holder of the crystal splash
Cried the elders all the same.

Livingstone exclaimed, “A wondrous place!”’
One to rest his heart,
Moffat found a true home here,
A place from which to start
His mission to bring the Holy Word
To all the souls so dear,
The dreams of a great man
For Kuruman, Her Pioneer.

Amid Ziziphus and Antelope
Dwell a labyrinth of paths
Dusty warm and welcoming
They fill your heart with hope.

Tswelelopele! Cries the village Chief
It’s time for all to share
In our landscapes of diversity
We’ll offer true serenity
To those who come with well accord
To them our riches we’ll afford,
Our wealth of culture shared
For progress we stand well prepared.

by A Fotheringham