Another reading
challenge is “Diverse December” (you can read more here) where the BAME (“Black, Asian and Minority Ethnic”) writers get a little more
exposure. Today’s review fits that demographic quite nicely.
Corsino Fortes was
born in Mindelo on the island of São Vicente in Cape Verde in 1933. Serving as
the first Ambassador of Cape Verde to Portugal from 1975 to 1981 he went on to
become a judge in Angola and served several govenments in the Cape Verde Republic.
Writing in both Creole and Portuguese, the works in this collection have been
translated from poems written in Portuguese the official language of the ten
island archipelago.
Earlier this year I
read and reviewed “By Night The Mountain Burns” by Juan Tomás Ávila Laurel (translated by Jethro Soutar) from Equatorial Guinea, a work set off the West
African Coast of this nation and whilst reading Corsino Fortes’ poems there was
a strong correlation to the island imagery used in Juan Tomás Ávila Laurel’s
novel
It only takes a poem
or two to see these works are rooted in Cape Verde mythology and way of life,
with recurring images of blood, the meridian, drums, guitars and the sea. From
a widely travelled writer, and one who spent a significant time living overseas
you can almost feel the pain of being forced to escape your roots, there is no
escape:
Embarking
There is fever now
fever
in the gum
The coat of sweat
fouling
the teeth
The corncob
in
the scorched mouth
The bay sweating
sun
and sunflower
I left the plumb-line
on
the steps of the city
I left the hammer and the anvil
in
the council chambers
I left the pestle and the mortar
Under
you face: Monte Cara
And the wild surge of the waters
I packed my stuff
And
left
The heart behind and sailed to larboard
But before long before
I mortgaged
my
litre of blood
And left
I planted my thumb
Beside
you tree
o
idol of my little earth
In that lesson
Of earth & blood
Transfused
I heard the wild waves surge
From
the heart to larboard
Very similar to the Mexican
work (translated from the Spanish) “Diorama” by Rocío Cerón (translated by Anna
Rosenwong), and winner of this year’s Best Translated Book Award for poetry, in
the timbre of the local language, as opposed to English, these are poems that
scream to be read aloud, and in their local tongue. As an example here’s a
section from “Nightmare In A Foreign Land” describing the journey on a night
train:
My sleep is goat my sleep is herb
My sleep is goat my sleep is herb
My mouth sleeps goat my mouth sleeps herb
My mouth sleeps goat my mouth sleeps herb
Goat train horse train goat train horse train
Goat
train horse train goat train horse train
Eating the earth eating the earth eating the
earth
Eating the earth eating the earth eating the
earth
And here in the
original language (this books presents the original alongside the English
translation):
Nha sone ê cabra nha sone ê erva
Nha sone ê cabra nha sone ê erva
Sone dnha boca ê cabra sone dnha boca ê erva
Sone dnha boca ê cabra sone dnha boca ê erva
Cabra comboie cavole comboie cabra comboie
cavole
comboie
Cabra comboie cavole comboie cabra comboie
cavole
comboie
Ta c’mê terra ta c’mê terra ta c’mê terra
Ta c’mê terra ta c’mê terra ta c’mê terra
In this example the
rhythm and sound of the night train moving through the dark seems to have more
power, and of course this is one of the major challenges that translators would
face, especially with the poetic form. One of the translators here Daniel Hahn, I recently read through is work on "A General Theory of Oblivion" by José Eduardo Agualusa.
The collection shows a
strong connection to country, being an outcast in another land, countries who
display the bones of Cape Verde peoples in museums, as though they are showing
us the birth of humankind.
From “Postcards from
the High Seas”
VII
Now as I walk
I watch the birth: the spring that watches
The shade of the shoulder-blades over the
world
Striking the drum
with
the blood of Africa
with
the bones of Europe
And
Every evening my thumb returns
And
says to the mouth of the river
From Addis Ababa I
came and drank
In the cataracts of
Ruacana
This collection is
taken from “Bread + Phoneme” published in 1974, the year that Portugal’s
dictator Antonío Salazar was over thrown, this event triggering the decolonization
of the Cape Verde Islands in 1975. “Tree + Drum”, “Stones of Sun + Substance”
are the other published works that these poems are drawn from along with two “Uncollected”
poems.
The earliest section,
from “Bread + Phoneme” is a very obscure opening, and it took me a while to get
used to the references, the metre and the rhythm of the poems, let alone the
meaning, with poems taken from later collections having direct references and
alignment to the island itself and feel a little more accessible.
This publication if
very much grounded in being part of one’s land, one’s country is displayed in
the poem “Earth to Earth” which explores the relationship between a child and a
navel, we are born of the earth but we devour it.
Source personal copy
(part of my Archipelago Books subscription).
No comments:
Post a Comment