Creole drum

An Anthology of Creole Literature in Surinam

[p. 217]

Chapter 9
The New Generation

‘New Generation’ is really a misnomer, for although these writers began writing later than Trefossa, some of them are his contemporaries and, in some instances, are even older than he. Some confessed that they discovered the possibilities of Creole as a literary language after reading Trefossa's poems. Trefossa in a sense paved the way for them. Today there are so many authors publishing in Creole¹ that we are forced to be highly selective. After studying all the published material, we felt that three of them proved to be of really outstanding quality: Johanna Schouten-Elsenhout, Michaël Slory, and Edgar Cairo. They represent at the same time three different generations: a grandmother in her sixties, a man in his thirties, and a student in his twenties.

We do not wish to suggest that others have not written remarkable poems. They have indeed, and we regret that we are unable to include some of them in this anthology. But the complete output of these other poets does not permit a substantial selection of really outstanding quality. Instead of presenting in this final chapter a panorama of the new generation, we have preferred a selection of the best authors and a representative sample of their work.

Johanna Schouten-Elsenhout, born in 1910 in Paramaribo, is older than Trefossa but has been influenced by his work. We do not suggest that she imitated him. On the contrary, she started writing poems without knowing that she had fallen prey to the muse. They were written down in a notebook, amidst the aromatic fragrances of her cooking pots, as bits of prose without punctuation or versification. Someone else had to enlighten her that these were poems, and with some help her work was transformed into poetry.² She can be

1 In addition to all the poets cited in this anthology, we must mention the names Eugène W. Rellum, Jozef Slagveer, J. Defares, and Edmundo, all of whom have published one or more collections of Creole poetry, and also Corly Verlooghen, R. Dobru, Wilfred Grimmèr, Johan Pont, Marcel de Bruin, Kawina, A. Gilds, Heo, Wati Deets, Vene, B. Ooft, Shrinivasi, and possibly many others, who have published one or more poems in Creole. An anthology of Surinam poetry was published in 1970 by Shrinivasi under the title Wortoe d'e tan abra (Words that remain).

2 She published Tide ete. Fo sren singi in 1963 and Awese in 1965. For some years in succession she wrote by special request a Christmas poem in Creole, which was broadcast. These poems have not been published.

[p. 218]

regarded as the Grandma Moses of Creole literature, but her work is certainly far from naive. Her poems are often very difficult to interpret. This may be due partly to her frequent use of special terms from lower-class culture, and partly to her exploitation of lower-class idioms and proverbs.³ More often than not, however, her poems seem to touch some subconscious depth, which demands from the reader a deep understanding of the psychological problems of Creoles, branded with the mark of slavery and colonial times and frustrated in their hopes for a brighter future. We must confess that these poems have deeply moved us.

Michaël Slory, born in Coronie in 1935, is a poet involved in politics. Although his political poems can be highly effective ammunition in the political struggle, as a poet he seems carried away far too often by uncontrolled emotions, which harm or even ruin the poetic balance. He started by using Dutch exclusively, even denying his Creole background in a certain way.⁴ Around 1960 he found himself in an emotional crisis as a result of his first contact with African culture. He was then ‘converted’ to Creole, although he still writes Dutch poems. He published his first collection of Creole poems, Sarka (Struggle),⁵ under the African pseudonym Asjantenu Sangodare. Here he gives expression to his political preoccupation with the injustice of this world. In the same period he prepared a second collection under the title Fraga mi wortoe (Signal my words). These poems deal with more personal themes. Many refer to his youth in the district, but they also show his concern with the national problems of a multiracial society. The collection was accepted for publication in Surinam, but the death of his publisher, and also the fact that the latter feared possible political consequences, delayed publication for several years and led to the poems remaining unpublished until 1970, when Slory privately financed the publication of six collections of poems, of which Fraga mi wortoe was one. The other collections are Bonifoto (The fortress of Boni), Nengre-oema (Negro woman),

3 She collected more then a thousand proverbs, published in 1974 by the Bureau Volkslectuur in Surinam under the title Sranan Pangi.

4 His first poem was published in Dutch in Tongoni 1 in 1960. Many more have been published since, for example the collections Brieven aan de Guerilla (Letters to the guerilla) in 1968, and Brieven aan Ho Tsji Minh (Letters to Ho Chi Minh) in 1969.

5 Asjantenu Sangodare, Sarka. Bittere strijd (Bitter struggle) (Amsterdam, 1961).

[p. 219]

Lobisingi (Love song), Vietnam , and Memre den dé (Remember the days).

Edgar Cairo, born in Paramaribo in 1948, is a young student who published his first novel, Temekoe , in 1969. He has published some collections of poems since then.⁶ Prose production in Creole has always been meager, so this first Creole novel came as a big surprise to insiders. Cairo deals almost exclusively with his relationship to his father, a stern and lonely man, who distrusted everyone. In the last chapter of the book, presented here, he tells the story of his father's social life: about the only friend he ever had, his colleagues at the factory, his wife and children, his relatives. He led a completely independent but utterly miserable life. The chapter starts with a vision of a perfectly happy independent existence and ends on a haunting evocation of a lonely man trying to reach out to the world.

The examples cited in this chapter will make clear that the limited range of subjects treated by Trefossa has considerably widened. The authors are deeply concerned with the tensions of a multiracial society and are also deeply moved by the struggle for independence of developing nations and by the fight against the injustices of this world. They try to understand their own problems and their own history in terms of universal sorrow and glory. In this way, Creole literature in Surinam has gone beyond its boundaries without losing touch with its own Creole background.

6 A mimeographed collection, Oroskopoe (Horoscope), was published in 1969, and another collection, Kra (Soul), actually written before the preceding one, in 1970. Cairo is working on a new novel, Sjoeroerwe .

[p. 220]

Johanna Schouten-Elsenhout

Kabra!
Troki gi den afkodreyman
a mindri n'akapu dyari
pe fodu e lolo
nanga santi ini en ay
lek papawinti
a mindri n' aladey son.
Wiki den, mi kabra,
ini a dofokampu,
mindri a doti f' sranan.
Troki mek kromanti
sekete nang' a pingi fu mandron
a mindri den awese.
Prisi a gronmama.
Opo frey mi nengrekopu mindri a watrapan.
A ten e kot' a greb' olo.

Yere mi sten,
lek wan grio e bari
a baka den bigi krepiston.
Mi ati e nak te dede fu frede.
M'e suk wan kibri olo
pe lobi de.
M' e frey lek wan sonfowru
mindri tranga winti
abra den moro hey bergi.
Sula e yere mi sten.
Mi skin e degedege.

[p. 222]

 

 

 

 

Loktu wawan e si mi

 

a mindri banawtu.

 

Mi kondre, mi pedreku bon,

 

mi nesi!

 

Sonten dede sa tuka mi

 

ini mi dren.

A gers
a no de f' bribi.
Den yuru doro man.
Kraswatra e broko
den bradi plana.
M' ede bigin dray
a mindri den worku.
A bot' ede opo mofo
kant' e tek watra ala sey.
Mi yeye
e sungu ondro wan bromki se f' howpu
pe m' e beg wan aladey brede
nanga aleluya fu agama.
Mindri doystri fu a mun
mi ati e tron pis'ati,
tek nyun weni
nanga winti fu stondansi
pe mi libi e syatu
mindri
den angri bere
d'e say ondro a son.

Kompasi marki

[p. 224]

 

 

 

 

yu futpasi.

 

Yayofowru libi kron.

 

Ini yu dede

 

prodo trowkrosi,

 

drape grontapu libi

 

sor moro moy.

 

Te m' e si yu fesi

 

ini a gowtu munkenki,

 

dungru mun e boro gwe.

 

Pe m' e feti f' or a skin,

 

drape y' e grati lek anamu.

 

Te m' e si yu, yayofowru,

 

e frey psa a tapu awaradan,

 

mi sa begi fu deybroko

 

mek nyunfrudu

 

lon abra yu dan.

Mi nyun oloysi
nanga prakiki
di brad' en frey a tapu,
di m' win lek
nomru wan a pren,
bigin nak yuru
e waka a baka.
A gers m' e firi f' go ler swen
nanga koni a mindri faya,
wins' a f' wan dey prisiri,
f' dukrun wan kefe
mindri a se f' asema brudu
f' marki soso wan enkri drop sweti f' mi libi
d' e lon lek kowru watra a mindrisey.
Frede bigin dangra mi.

[p. 226]

 

 

 

 

Pre f' mi fadon nanga doro insey,

 

mi dyompo nanga tap' ay

 

a mindri Sranan liba.

 

Di m' op' ede a loktu baka,

 

mi si tak a owru Betkayn

 

mi fen mi srefi,

 

mindri a smeri

 

f' den srafu dedebonyo.

Mi no wani / wan ati
di n' abi kra,
mi wani / wan yeye d' e libi.

Mi n' e wer / susu
di n' e fit mi,
m' e wer / mi eygi krompu.

Mi n' e sdon / luku
a fesi fu sma,
m' e luku ini / mi eygi spikri.

A swit se winti
d' e way a Branspen
te doro ini
Sranan liba,
e mek mi yeye dyonko.
A naki f' den plana
a sey matros broki
e boboy mi gebre.
A lon watra
a mindri liba
d' e dray tron wan kolku

[p. 228]

 

 

 

 

a mi ati lampe,

 

e broko mi dyodyo

 

saka gi doti.

 

Mi winsi

 

wan nyun dey opo fesi

 

fu wiki mi kra,

 

mek a dyompo a loktu,

 

di a swit se winti

 

e feti f' sribi.

Luku!
Mi fini garden
e puru smoko.
Osey a faya seti?
Wan safri lafu
kibri a baka
pe mi brudu
e tron watra
f' kuku m' insey.
It' ay a mindri
a tranga lon watra:
mi langa watr'ay
e seni nyunsu go
gi den masanengre
f' mi n' abrasey,
tak mi bro
e feti f' tapu.
Wan pkin krabu
no de f' si, o-ten.
Tan bun, mi safri lafu.
Adyosi,
mi langa watr'ay.

Oho,

[p. 230]

 

 

 

 

mi sekete uma

 

a mindri a krin munkenki fesi

 

ini busi, ondro den taki

 

fu a mama kankantri,

 

pe mandron e boro doti sek mi gebre.

 

Not no de f' lus mi yeye

 

di spikri tanapu a fes den bromki

 

di yu awese futu e trowe gi gron.

 

Yu koti skin a tap kwakwa bangi

 

a mindri den difrenti

 

moy pangi strepi.

 

Brantmarki den tu blaw ay nanga

 

gowtu w'wiri fu a nyoni bromki a yu sey

 

d' e op' ede gro kon a loktu

 

fu wiki mi dyodyo a mindri

 

dipi sribi. Yu krusu w'wiri e bosro

 

mi frestan kon krin f' si den

 

toe brenki ay di was mi kra

 

mek a opo a dungru

 

f' dyompo fet a krin, suku

 

san lobi nanga brudu ben tay.

Mi no man moro,
Gronmama,
den sani di m' e si.
M' e fruferi
ala dey f' arki anans'tori
d' e prit mi ati a tu.

Mi no man moro
f' dray lontu soso saka
a mindri berefur libi

[p. 232]

 

 

 

 

d'e bet mi tongo f' taki:

 

Pardon mi,

 

o masra Gado,

 

pinaman n' abi big' ay.

 

 

 

Mi no man moro,

 

Maysa,

 

a mindri den sraften katfisi

 

d'e swen mindri mi brudu ibri dey.

 

 

 

Mi no man moro,

 

Apinti dron,

 

den bakafutu banya

 

di y' e skopu f' or n' ati.

 

Mi n' e arki prey moro.

 

 

 

Mi wan' opodron

 

lek friman borgu.

 

 

 

Kondre,

 

dat' ede

 

m' e dorfu tide.

Braka neti,
granaki ay,
takru triki
a mindri
kowru gron.
Yongu yari
d' e kor mi
a mindri prisiri.
Sabana bromki
di opo fesi
e waki mi so nya,
mek bigi dren
sor mi
wan futmarki,
pe a musdey stari

[p. 234]

 

 

 

 

e trowe krin faya

 

mindri a pasi

 

fu teygo dungru mun.

Ini a pikin alen-ten dropu,
ay mi lobi,
a tapu a dyamanti pasi fu a neti,
mi si taki yu de
nanga dyomp' ati f' den dungru yari
f' mi libi. I dyompo tanapu
lek wan owru dren di kon tru.
Wan krioro di ben e sribi
a mindri dungru pasi f' libi,
frey opo lek wan kopro-prin maskita
fu suku a libi di kibri en srefi
a mindri son nanga alen,
a ondro den tranga rutu f' den bon-taki:
fa den e way fu tron draywinti
fu kanti den bigi bon ala sey.
Anu na anu ati e doro gron f' ati.
Brudu e katibo yu skin.
Ke, mi krinfesi sranan uma
nanga yu trutru granlobi,
yu sor i srefi a tapu a gowtu pasi:
granmorgu
a mindri den fayalobi bon.

Meki mi koyri
a ondro yu prasoro,
musudey stari,
a tapu a grati sorfu pasi
fu a libi,
a mindri rowsu nanga maka,
fu tuka a son fesi
di sa kori mi ati te gron.

[p. 236]

 

 

 

 

Luku fa mi e boro pasa

 

a mindri sneki

 

soso fu si yu fesi, mi gowtumun.

 

Ke, sor mi yu bigi grani

 

nanga krin faya,

 

fu mi feni a pkin stanfastesiri

 

fu say ini mi safu ati,

 

mek a opo gro.

Michaël Slory

Di na oloysi meki na yuru sroyti,
mi firi fa mi libi lon gowe.
Na owruyari kakafowru froyti
wan enkri leysi, ma mi krey sote.

Strati
pe son marki ibri ay santi,
memre den futu di gwe moro fara.
Gotro di diki fu tyari lonwatra,
langa yu srefi, te skuma fu yu
yere mi nen.
Doti di meki mi
sa teki mi baka.
Ma mi sten di ben bari
mindri den bon,
a sa gwe?
Strati, no sribi!
Gotro, no drey!

A gersi
na mun e lon na mi baka.
A gersi
den bon e lontu mi.
Mama!

[p. 238]

 

 

 

 

San grati pasa ondro den taki

 

go doro na dray-uku de?

 

Ondro na broki fu na gotro

 

wan kokro de ...

 

Mama!

 

 

 

Wan man e waka na mi sey,

 

sondro wan skin, sondro wan futu.

 

Mi bro kon hey.

 

A sori skuma sa kon doro

 

fu lon fadon.

 

Mama!

Bamborita, bamborita!
Te den kokrontobon fadon,
sondro siri,
mi no e nyan.

Na wan grikibi e singi
te na noko
sondro frede.
Na wan grikibi e singi,
te den kokrontobon fadon.

Mi sa opo go na loktu
leki worku fu katun,
di e kroypi na mi baka,
na mi bere,
go na hey.

Ma den kokrontobon e kanti

[p. 240]

 

 

 

 

safrisafri. Griki gwe.

 

Mi no e nyan, o bamborita!

 

Sondro siri

 

mi no e nyan.

Fa India
e tigri mi buba
nanga buy
na mi futu,
gowtu keti na mi neki,
brenki aka na mi noso.
Suma furu
mi baskita
nanga mamanten gruntu,
May?
Wanwan broko fensre opo.
Futulanki na lekdoru.
Faya santi dresi en.
Bakadan:
wan isri tromu.
Mindri foto:
dyari, oso.

Yu ros.
Yu krosi ros
leki na dey opo fruku
abra den kowsbantibedi,
nati, soso dow.

[p. 242]

 

 

 

 

Wan krin mamantenson

 

e leti

 

yu eri skin.

 

Na santa pagwa

 

e naki en tadya

 

te neti doro.

 

Mi baka blaw

 

te now ete. Den marki

 

no wani gwe.

 

Ma un sa si wan fasi.

Mi weri mi grun bruku.
Loktu blaka.
Sonfaya bron wan marki
ini mi ay.
Mi redi sak'angisa
nyan mi sweti.
Den bromki lila
tapu lantidan.
Ondro wan bon
wan burukaw e buku
wan man trowe.
Mi eri skin e gro.
Brudu didon so lala
tapu grasi.
San a sa du now?
Skreki tapu mi bro.

Bakadinaredi
brasa na son gowe.
Den star e dropu
wanwan faya
kon na gron.
Ala penpeni e kenki
tron sorfru.
Munkenki e ferfi
nanga en sorfrukwasi

[p. 244]

 

 

 

 

den dan fu grontapu.

 

Loktu blaw so tranga.

 

So mi kan si fa Gado fesi langa.

Den mormo fu yu ay,
den krin,
krin moro alenwatra,
tiri moro busikriki,
pe soso winti e sribi
ondro den taki.
Rosalina,
na yu sten tyari gowtu so?
Te mun srefi e bro
fu skreki?

Anda mi,
ankra mi na yu boto
tay na lin
di yu iti now na watra,
pe wi gro kon tron wan libi,
wan lobi.

Pasi langa.
Mi e toptopu
te mi doro.
Titey fu mi skin
kon weri.
Wan doyfi, Simbolo
fu fri prakseri,
sutu go na loktu
fu go miti na blaw.
Porti sayans!
A sa naki en frey

[p. 246]

 

 

 

 

na grontapu skin

 

te a broko.

Te Budha lusu ensrefi
meki Kresi miti en,
nyun firi sa broko doro.
Sranan prakseri sa lolo
ala makandra
kon wan.

Un sa memre na dey
di den preykiman fruteri:
ertintin ... ertintin ...
Budha wawan ben tanapu
e luku den wey
furu nanga soso aleysi,
soso kaw.
Abra den bedi Kresi
ben anga so langalanga
naki fasi ini en eygi brudu
na en kroysi,
so sari.
A ben weti ete.

Ma now
na toko kaba.
Rostu wini.
Makandra nomo un sa go
na hey.
Makandra nomo
un sa brasa den dangra
di tergi wi kra.

Fraga mi wortu
gi den di de na baka.
Opo den ay,
no libi den didon.

[p. 248]

 

 

 

 

Lekti den futu

 

abra den owru soro.

 

Dopu den dyodyo

 

nanga wan nyun bigin.

 

 

 

So un sa pusu

 

wisrefi go na fesi

 

ondro na star

 

di kari na nyun ten.

 

 

 

Dan un sa firi

 

unsrefi ala wan man,

 

wan kondre pipel,

 

pe prati no kan de.

Way, nengre!
Te wi luku baka
fu si san ben pasa,
w'e krempi gwe
na ini a: ‘Frigiti.’
Ma di mi dray,
mi si a se
e masi kon tapu a parwa,
na ini a weti skuma,
wan langa watra-ay,
mi geme na mi srefi:
Way, nengre!
Fa wi musu luku
na ini a spikri
fu historia, di blaka, blaka?

Kokronto koko, fa yu Losia Boy b' e froyti.

[p. 250]

 

 

 

 

- Mi ben dape, Bato, gongote!

 

Fa den fremusu b'e lusu den srefi saka!

 

- Mi ben dape, Bato, gongote!

 

Plana, gowtu plana tapu a liba.

 

- Mi ben dape, Bato, gongote!

 

Den b'e poko, naki kaseko kon na syoro.

 

- Mi ben dape, Bato, gongote!

 

Kokronto merki b'e sweri leki Bosrokoman.

 

- Mi ben dape, Bato, gongote!

 

Leki wan gado oni nanga merki b'e rigeri.

 

- Mi ben dape, Bato, gongote!

 

Printa b'e feyri a loktu tron prasara.

 

- Mi ben dape, Bato, gongote!

 

Pantabusi b'e prati den kwikwi na ini fisi-olo.

 

- Mi ben dape, Bato, gongote!

 

Aleysi nanga watrakanu na ini den gotro.

 

- Mi ben dape, Bato, gongote!

 

Den kawinaman ay ben redi leki granaki.

 

- Mi ben dape, Bato, gongote!

 

Èn a oli b'e brenki tapu ala den skrufu.

 

- Mi ben dape, Bato, gongote!

 

Na ini kanari den skuna b'e monyo leki aleysi.

 

- Mi ben dape, Bato, gongote!

 

Gamelan nanga Tadya na ini a winti.

 

- Mi ben dape, Bato, gongote!

 

Ala di asege b'e boro den bon-ati.

[p. 252]

 

 

 

 

- Mi ben dape, Bato, gongote!

 

Drey anu fu switibonki lontu mi bere!

 

- Mi ben dape, Bato, gongote!

 

Baka den, angisa di b'e opo mi yeye.

 

- Mi ben dape, Bato, gongote!

 

Soso dati, no wan sorgu noso dyarusu trobi.

 

- Mi ben dape, Bato, gongote!

 

Èn den kaw b'e blo kwata fu soso breyti.

 

- Mi ben dape, Bato, gongote!

 

San ben libi, n'a singi fu den siksiyuru.

 

- Mi ben dape, Bato, gongote!

 

 

 

Gongote! Gongote!

 

Ay, gongote-bonu

 

nanga sten di srapu leki sewinti!

 

Ay, langa prasoro,

 

kokronto gongote-wenke na win!

Edgar Cairo

Wan pisi fu libi

Prakseri taki ofa a no switi fu de na mindri libisma. Fa yu ben e go firi, efu den ben poti yu, yu wawan, na mindri fu someni swit' sani. Yu sa wani fu didon yu wawan na tapu wan sula, nanga moy geri èn broyn ston. Na watra e kowru yu. Na watra e datra yu ebi prakseri. Na watra e dofu yu gi na sten fu konsensi. Efu yu sa firi yu srefi yu wawan, dan na watra kan lekti yu srefi, opo yu, poti na mindri soso santawan. Yu e kisi wan aparti presi. Na mindri fu den yu kan de. Yu kan tesi na switi firi fu na santa dey. Ma yu no kan taki nanga den, bika den no abi tongo moro fu ley. Soso farawe yu kan si den. Mi abi na bribi taki so fasi yu no e tan wan dey na Masra fesi. Dan yu e saka kon baka na yu sula, dorosey fu foto b'bari. Te angri kiri yu, yu kan go na yu kampu. Tafra leki tafra e wakti yu - ma no wan sma no de fu si. O langa yu e go tan so? Son sma e go ori na libi disi wan wiki. Trawan wan mun langa. Wán enkri

[p. 254]

wan sa man fu libi so wan yari langa. Ma te fu kaba yu e go law. Yu e go dede.

Dati meki son sma abi furu mati. Son wan abi pikinso. Ma mi papa dati, wanwan a abi, fu taki reti, a abi wan nomo. Fu taki moro reti, a ben abi wan. A ben de wan trutru, san den e kari: dip' bere mati. Den tu so ben pasa skorobangi makandra. Takru nanga bun fu wi Sranan, den ben prati. Efu foto ben e seki, den ben de na bradyari tu, efu foto ben abi rostu, dan den srefi tu ben kowru. Edi, na so a ben nen. Na mofo mi ben e kari en Basedi. Basedi ben de sneyri. A ben fin'fini.

Wan takru sortu kosokoso di no abi kaba a ben gwenti e kisi. Ala yuru wan pikin pisi tabaka ben e anga na en mofobuba. Mi ben e kari dati en ‘tabakaworon.’ Te a ben tan, dan a ben ari wan dampu fu na ‘lespeki tabaka.’ Nanga kosokoso a smoko e ari en srefi komopo na ini en gorogoro. En mofobuba di ben srapu leki na lanki fu wan udubaki, ben e lon wan pikinso tabaka watra. Dan so a ben e ari en baka anu pasa. En fesi ben dipi leki gronmarki pe pikinnengre prey. A ben gwenti tyari en wakatiki, fu di en wansey futu no ben de leki fa gado meki di fu tra sma. Ay, Edi! Tide yu no de moro, baya. Pe na ten go. Fa mi ben e si yu so krinkrin, tide mi no mu si yu moro.

Te mi papa Nelis ben friyari, furu sma no ben e kon. Wanwan kompe so, ben kan kon trus' ede pikinso. Ma es' esi den ben e ari pasi, bika mi papa no ben e taki tori. A ben e sidon fow en anu na ondro en kakumbe. Ma yu si, te Basedi ben doro, dan tori ben dray. Now den ben de fu lo pondo. Den ben e nati den neki nanga gindyabiri èn tesi wan mofo fiadu. Tranga sopi noyti ben e de, bika no dringi, no smoko, mi papa ben e du. ‘Mi moni na mi sopi èn mi wroko na mi smoko.’ Te den yonkuman fu wrokope yere na tori disi, dan den e lafu. Dati na wan bigiman srefsrefi. Basedi srefi ben e lafu tu nanga ala den tifi di blaka fu soso tabaka. Now a ben de na en yuru. Nanga wan lekti geme a ben e opo en tori.

Sipiman di ben e kon nay krosi, noyti ben e pay. Ala fa en uma ben owru-owru; toku den ben abi dek'ati e kon suku en. Wan leysi wan fu den bigiskin kel opo na en tapu fu en umapikin ede. Luku dyaso, Basedi grabu wan nefi, ma a no ben abi dek'ati, someki a so esi leki fa a ben kan, lon go kibri na baka wan ston peti. Di na man now - a no ben sabi na presi - dray en baka gi Basedi, dati now fringi na wakatiki naki a man. Nanga den wortu:

[p. 256]

‘Kon, mi e go puru krasi gi yu,’ a kari en gari, opo na nefi fu priti na man poti na bonyogron. Na pôti matrosi ben lobi en libi, so meki a teki diafutu. So na tori dati kon kaba.

Wan tra tori baka na fu sma di a ben gwenti nay gi. Na tan a tan wan dey - a ben e nyan wan pisi sowtu lemki, bika korsu nomo ben broko en mofo èn tapu en tesi - suma e broko kon dati fruku mamanten: skowtu. SUKOWTU?! A ben weri wan pikin pisi blonsaka ondrobruku. Es'esi a weri en bruku, en flanel bosroko, en trekbanti èn wan gerigeri weti empi di no ben go na breki ete. Sito sito a ben abi fu go nanga Kowlader. San ben pasa so dan? We, wan sma ben tya krosi fu kon nay wan trowpaki. A ben si taki na krosi ben furu, ma nanga en ay tapu na ‘wenste’ di a ben e go meki, a no si taki na krosi ben fufuru!

Edi gi tori, te a gi tori fa sma suku fu wisi en nanga moni. Ay, ma a no waka leki fa na frufruktu ben prakseri! Koloku fu Edi, a ben abi wan papamoni na ini en portumoni èn fu di leti na fesi a ben bay lemki fu puru nanga asisi na smeri di ben kon tay fasi na en ondro-anu, na eri wroko pori. A ben de so srefi taki na takru yeye mandi. Fa na man e langa na moni so, so en anu tan fasi.

Ondrofeni tori ben e lolo go lolo kon te wan sani fu neygi yuru. Dan Basedi ben e teki en felt-ati, nanga en wakatiki fu suku osopasi. Te tra yari baka, nanga gado wani.

Te neti ben tapu, den bigisma fu mi ben e dribi den tu sturu di den ben abi go na wan sey. Te sribi ben kiri mi, dan frukufruku papaya ben abi fu bradi. Mi no ben kan tan arki den betiyesi tori fu Basedi, bika na bigisma no ben lobi te pikinnengre mofo e warsi na ini en tori efu den bradi den yesimama e arki. Yu! Dorfu ben waki en leki paderij. Wan klapu ben sari yu! Ma mi dati a no ben kan fasi, mi papa ben sa sorgu fu dati. Mi no ben kan sidon arki, so mi ben e didon. Te na yuru ben doro, mi ben kan yere na wakatiki e gwe. Tikó ... tikótikó ...! Leki te yorka e prey mormo na neti. Tikó ...! tikó ...!

Dey na fesi mi ben e dren kaba taki so wan man e go kon. Na neti dati mi pikinnengre tonton e stampu nanga tori. Ma tan mi ben

[p. 258]

kan so, dan mi ben kan yagi en gwe. Te a ben opo mi, mi ben e kofu ala en fesi, kofu ala en fesi, kofu en ... te a no ben abi ay moro, no noso, no mofo. Sma no ben mu sabi en moro, bikasi en wawan ben de mi papa mati, en wawan ben sabi fu puru mi papa na mi anu. Na a neti dati, mi no ben e sribi bun. Mi ben fasandruku.

Bakaten srefi, mi ben e kon kweki wan prakseri fa mi kan meki na eri tori kon na wan kaba. Mi ben e ley gi na man srefi. Bakaten Basedi siki sote. Saf'safri a no ben man wroko so bun moro. Na kosokoso ben kon bigi en gorogoro, so meki a ben e spitispiti leki bere-uma. Te a ben tan, a ben kan nay wan brukufutu moro bigi. Mi papa ati ben e faya, bikasi sma ben sa prakseri taki na bimba a abi. Leti dape mi ben wani en. Mi ben ogri. Mi ben pori. Mi no ben lobi taki sani mu de tra fasi leki fa mi ben sa wani. So wan dey mi bari krey kon na oso. Krosi ben pori agen. Na sneyri ben feni taki mi e gro es'esi, èn fa mi ben langa gwe na loktu leki mansipari, a nay den nyun skorobruku langa èn bigi. Mi e kon na ini oso so, mi e watra! Wante mi papa ati teki faya. ‘Yu kan tyari na bruku go baka. A kan ori en. A kan weri en!’ Nanga dati wan kaba kon na wan matiskap' di ben ori someni yari langa. Pe yu ben prakseri taki na wan isrititey ben tay den tu sma, yu ley! Wan karuwiwiri ben moro tranga!

Tide te mi e prakseri, mi e sidon saka mi ede, leki wan siki fowru, sma mu ray san e ori mi ati so.

Edi siki. A go na at'oso. Fosi a go koti madungu. Bakaten den ben abi fu puru en ston. Moro bakaten a ben abi fu du ete wan koti na en manpe, ma leti dape/Fedi ben tanapu na en bedi-ede. A komoto na nefidatra kamra, den saka en tapu na bedi, na so ba Fedi frey na en ede wantron. No wan sma ben de fu nati en neki.

Sari na Ondrobon pe a ben e libi. A gersi na ini na wiki dati den tamarenbon lasi moro furu wiwiri leki na ini wan eri yari. Na a dey fu na beri, alen fadon moy fu en sey. Ala den krepsi ben nati. Den ben gersi tingifowru. Koloku fu Edi. Mi papa waka na en baka.

[p. 260]

Tide disi, Nelis e kosi den yonkuman fu en wrokope. Den e teki den yesi èn arki. Dan wante so, wan lafu e broko kon tapu den fesi. A no spotu. Na man disi na wan trutru man. Efu yu bigin fu diki na ini en tori fu wrokope, yu e si dati a no lesi. A no e naki wan bita nanga no wan fu den. Te den kon na wroko, dan a dape kaba. Efu na seybi yuru a mu dape, teri tapu yu tin finga taki siksi yuruten a dape kaba. Fu taki leti, den sabi en leki wan trutru papa. Ma bigisma abi wan sani e taki dati kon waka nanga kon libi a no wan. San di yu no si fu karu-wiwiri faya, na dati de leti so! Na fu yu teki ay luku moro betre. So tu furu fu den yonkuman no sabi, taki na lafu di mi papa e lafu, a no wan gron-ati lafu.

Te a de na oso, dan eri dey a e tapu en srefi na ini kamra. Dan wan tapuskin a e ari tapu fu en bigindoy kon miti en ede wiwiri. Te a de furfuru na strati, yuru no e teri gi en fu a kon na oso. Sonte a e syen gi en srefi. Mi sabi den sortu sma di tan leki den yeye gwe libi den. Wan grani papa leki en srefi e koti wiwiri gi en. Den tu sabi den srefi leki tu finga fu wan anu. Dan so na tori e lolo tu. Umatori no de na ini - ala fa na mi e prakseri dati. Tori fu ondrofeni e waka. Fa libi kon diri. Fa den otopasi e furu dey na dey. Fa wan sma mu tyari en srefi na ini na libi fu disiten. Dan ... fu wan momenti, mi papa sa wani opo en mofo, opo en gorogoro go te na ini en ati fu bari fa problema e knufta en. Man na man! Ma ini na afersi disi, man no man du fa a sa wani. A sani e trowe wan span, wan ede-ati gi en. Fa Nelis kibri en srefi ini na makti bigi sturu, a sa wani fu na skuma gro ... gro ... gro fu tapu en fesi. Wan bergi. Wan bun bigi bergi fu tapu na winti fu en bro. A gersi na sèm nefi sa koti en gorogoro ... na lampu sa breni en. Faya ... na kamra e faya. A e opo gwe so esi leki a kan na ini na kowru neti. Farawe wan sma e lafu. A e teki bro.

Mi papa no lobi mi moro. A no lobi mi mama tu. A no lobi mi mama pikin tu. Mi tanta dati, fu mi mamasey, a no lobi srefsrefi. Famiri fu papasey di e seni suku pikin gebroke a e yagi. ‘Meki den suku masra efu go na lansigron! Mi no ben opo fraga seni kari no wan sma!’ Wan leysi wan famiri seni kari en fu kon na wan fesa. Ma di na wan omu fu Nelis ben erken na lutu fu na famiri dati, sobu fu di den no ben de trutru famiri, en ati teki faya.

[p. 262]

‘Mi dati no bay famiri! Mi no sabi fu san ede den piki ebi poti na wi tapu!’ Nanga dati a tori kaba. Na tanta di mi taygi yu taki a no lobi srefsrefi, na Kombe a e libi. Yere fa tori waka.

Na en kweki mi mama. Te a kon bigi. Fatu uma nanga bigi gogo so! Den sipiman di ben e komopo na Bedyan ben lobi mi mama. Sweet Mary, na so den ben e kari en, te a ben e go seri blokmowtu nanga tra sani moro gi den. Efu wanwan leysi den ben e fasfasi Sweet Mary, mi no ben de fu si. Efu den ben e pingi en gogo? A sa de so. Tronsu, yu mu sabi taki fu eri grontapu, efu yu kon na Sranan, dan nengre no abi noti. Ma san nengre tyari srefsrefi na: gogo! Wan tra tanta fu mi ben tya dati mor' ogri. Kande dati meki en nanga mi papa ben abi wan sani bakabaka. Na tori ben de so faya, taki na wenke ben e kon tan na ini oso ala fa mi mama ben de na uma fu na oso. Ma a ben loli. A ben logologo. A no ben abi dek' ati fu poti wan sma tap' strati. Mi yere dati di mi ben de na bere, mi mama ben sidon na sey oso e fanga winti. Fa a ben dungru so, dan a ari en yapon go pikinso na loktu, meki winti kan way fri kon na en ondrobere. Yere a yere wan sani fadon na en sey. A luku. Wan fu den fosten triki-isri dompu en srefi gi doti. Sma no ben de fu si na a sodro fensre. Ma mi mama kon sabi dati na a wenke ben suku fu kiri en, na ini en dyarusu. Ay, na didibri. A kisi en payman tu. Mi no sabi san pasa so soyfri, ma mi yere taki na busbusi den kon puru en nanga wan yonkuman. Lantiwagi ben abi fu tyari den gwe. Den no ben man lusu. Sma taki dati na wisi den wisi en fu di a ben de en wroko fu e teki sma man. Trawan taki dati na ini den krasi, den go didon leti pe wan akantamasu de, someki a strafu den. Mi no sabi suma mi mu bribi, ma mi sabi dati a feni en payman: suma du bun, na en nen; suma du ogri, na en nen!

Soleki fa mi taki, mi abi wan tanta na Kombe. En oso furu nanga gado prenki. A e strey leti kandra nanga kerki. Efu a kindi fu begi, a e fadon na sribi èn sofasi a e strey begi nanga pastoru, te kon miti wan sani fu mindri neti. Dan en skin e fasi. ‘E ... e ... e ... mi yongudey gwe libi mi kaba!’ A e dren ete dati wan bun dey wan sma sa du en na bun fu te a tapu wan bigi yari,

[p. 264]

a sa yuru wan syesi èn tyari en waka eri foto! Dan te a kon na oso, piyano den mu prey gi en. Setdansi èn lanchey mu de na neti dati. Na tanta lay trefu moro wis' man. Moro a e owru, moro a e bay gowtu sani, bika na en yeye wani so. Wan bun dey yu sabi umasma kaba, den no kan pasa wan sma di den sabi bun, sondro fu dyompo kon na ini - mi mama go na mi tanta. Den taki den tori sote, te a kon wan pisi. Now mi mama memre taki a ben abi wan brifi nanga en, di a ben mu tyari go na mi papa wrokope. Na man no ben wani go moro na wroko, bika na wroko ben kon ebi. Di mi mama no ben sabi leysi kaba, so a gi tanta na brifi. Dati no du moro leki reti, a dyompo na ini en frigikasi, teki en swarfu èn bron na brifi. A taki wan tu moy mofo di mi no kan taygi yu baka! Ala na ten dati, mi papa sidon na oso e wakti. En gogo e faya, bika a e prakseri taki den e go gi na uma wan pikin gebroke. Di dati doro so ... d ..., dan tori ben pori. Wan eri pisi ten den no taki. Mi papa ori mi mama na ati. Dey langa a no ben e taki wan wortu. A ben swa leki asin. Mi mama, kontrari, ben e suku taki ala yuru. A no ben abi trobi fu bori tra nyanyan, te mi papa ben trowe na fosiwan. Den tu sma ben kan go na Thalia go prey toneri, fa den ben e meki.

San di tyari den kon taki, na wan toko di wan fu den prasiuma, Syako, ben abi nanga en masra. A ben de fu wan tra wenke ede. Syako ben abi wan fowru. So na tra uma ben abi kweki tu. Den tu fowru ben gersi. Wan tu dey bifo Bedaki, na uma saka en fowru na pan. Nanga ala en blakapepre èn nowtumuskati a smuru a titi. Tantan ... a yere wan sma e krutu. Na Syako. Nofo Syako ben abi na sma na ati kaba, a no skuru en bowtu gi en! Ala sortu mama! Disi nomo, bika na wenke ben teki na tra fowru leki di fu en. Na eri mamanten, na so a toko waka. Go ari, go trusu. Na wenke no du moro leki reti fu saka na eri pan gi Syako. Ma a gersi taki na pikin di ben bigi Syako bere, ben lostu sutu faya, bika a teki na eri pan so trowe gi dagu. Dan leti Syako masra komopo na wroko.

[p. 266]

Na son ben faya. A trowe en baysigri na wan sey, grabu wan bowtu san den ben poti nomo fu e kiri alata, èn seti lon na Syako baka. Syako na ini en bradyari, opo futu! Na tan wi tan, un ben e konkru pikinso, wi yere wan prit'bere bari. Na srefi momenti dati, na doro broko opo. Wan emre watra naki trowe. Mi mama ben e krin kat'fisi. Ala na watra fadon na Syako tapu, Syako, di broko kon na ini! Wi yere wan sani naki na skotu so bow! Na a kodya. Na fasi fa na wenke skreki, mi denki taki bakaten na pikin di a ben abi na bere ben e go babaw. Den sma fu mi kon wasi Syako wan swit'watra. Den kari en kra kon baka (so wan katiwatra). Na bere den ari nanga abomafatu, di ben de na ini wan kastrolibatra. Na mi brada ben koti en fu wan dyuka. Baka di na toko kowru, mi fruwondru. Mi si dati den bigisma fu mi ben e taki baka leki noti no ben pasa. Ay baya, nowtu nanga dede e tyari lobi kon.

Mi papa no ben lobi mi tanta, te dati kon dede. Ma di nowtu naki un, pe un ben abi fu saka un tere? Leti dape! Wan bun tanpe a no ben de, ma toku wi ben kan kibri un ede gi son nanga alen. Te den ogri boy fu na birti ben e pasa, leti dape den ben e fringi ston. Ala san den ben si na kino, leti dape den ben e kon du dati baka, someki un no ben abi rostu. Efu yu poti, fu eksempre, pomerak na strati, te yu kon baka, yu kan kisi wan gebre! Mi gudu! Ma na baki dati no e kon baka! No nanga skowtu! Er'eri baki nanga swit'-sani den ben kan lekti puru tapu yu ede. Gowtu sani na skin den no ben e teri, funamku den Yampaneysi di ben e weri gowtusani na ini den ede wiwiri. Kru nanga kru ben e feti.

Den bigisma fu mi no ben e tan dape. Den ben e tan na Saramakastrati. Ala dey mi ben e tyari nyanyan go gi den. Na oso fu den ben pikin. Dat' meki moro betre mi kan taki fu wan kampu, wan afdaki. A no ben abi noti na ondro den senki, di ben e meki wan sortu dri-uku nanga wan pikin loyki na bakasey. Te son ben faya, yu no ben kan tan na tapu sodro efu yu no ben wani losi.

[p. 268]

Te na neti ben kowru, dan yu ben kowru leki dow. Tronsu, no wan fu un no ben kan sribi tapu sodro. A ben e spuku, someki un puru na trapu poti na dorosey. Na baka-oso yu ben abi wan sortu skotu di mi ben meki fu kisiplanga, di mi go tan dape. Mi tapu en nanga wan pisi seyri. Dati ben mu de wan was'oso. Na fosi dey di mi doro, a ben de so fremder.

Memre wan skumaker bakadyari nanga soso pispis' leri. Broko susu fu sma nanga kron futu, ala so ben de dape. Na trasey, yu ben abi wan pindamiri pe dokun ben e meki. Dán baka yu ben abi wan samiri di ben e kon trowe saksi de. Wan bun bigi mopebon ben tanapu na prasi nanga wan pikin kumakoysi na ondro. A peti ben de wan bari. So mi broko go na inisey. Foroysi ben de gadri, botri, nyankamra, kari kon, ala sani wantron. Na bakadina ben lati pikinso, someki un no tan langa fu go sribi. Mi bradi wan mamyo, papaya srefi mi no ben abi. Mindrineti mi yere den sma fu mi e rigeri. Mi prakseri taki bigisma mu lobi fa a fiti, so mi no ben abi noti fu taki. Eri neti mi no sribi. Maskita! Mamanten di mi opo, mi si mi skin lay nanga soso kundu-kundu. Ray san ben de na ‘duman?’ Fyo-fyo! Dat' meki den suma fu mi ben e rigeri so. Noti moro. Den ben didon tapu wan gaba di ben lay fyofyo. Den kunsu-ede ben weti fu eksi soso. Pe mi ben didon, den planga fu na gron ben abi nâti. Den ‘doysri’ now, ben e gwe go kibri na ondro na oso. Te neti dan den be e lusu kon na doro leki den law. Ma mi du den wan at' sani. Mi sorgu teki wan seyri, koti en opo moy, èn nay den edesey sofasi, taki mi ben kan meki wan amaka. Ma mi ben drey èn langa gwe na loktu leki manspari. Di mi wiki na tra mamanten tu, mi no ben man opo. Eri neti mi ben didon fow mi srefi. Maskita! Te na mira srefi ben abi wan sani fu kon suku.

Den taki dati te ay e lon watra, noso e lon en tu. Ma di mi ben e feti nanga den someni problema disi, mi papa no ben e bada en srefi moro, san di wani, efu san di no wani pasa nanga mi. A no langa baka dati di un feni oso. Na tanta fu Saramakastrati dede. Now mi mama feni wan tu sani baka! Na tori fu mi papa na dat'sey kon moro ogri. Toku, fu di sensi den seti libi den ben didon na gron, èn fu di den feni owru bedi, ala tu ben breyti. Mi mama lafu. Mi papa no ari en fesi. Na bedi ben bigi. A ben lay wan l'lo kopro pranpran. Fu tyari en go tapu na plata sodro, mi ben abi fu koti na tapsey pisi komoto. Den feri ben kon ari, sodati na planga den bigisma fu mi ben abi fu poti. Bigin bigin mi papa ati ben e bron. A ben e fow en srefi go te na ini wan uku. Ma na mama fu mi, ke pôti a no ben gwenti, ben e fadon-fadon. Bakaten mi papa kon teki

[p. 270]

gwenti so, dati ala fa son ben e faya, a ben e tan didon tapu na sodro. So wan pinaten, te lampugrasi srefi, te a ben broko, nanga papira un ben e tapu na wansey gi winti. So wan pinaten. Nelis ben sa mu abi wan ati fu ston, fu weygri so wan sani. Wan switi bedi fu wan switi uma, na dati ben de wan fu den sani di a ben angri gi someni langa. A no tru? Now en popki fu en ati ben sidon.

Eri foto lay nanga wrokope. Wan wrokope de, pe a e go de taki wan man e wroko dritenti yari dape kaba. A no dri dey. So wan dey na fu opo yu yeye, fu tagi Masra tangi, taki a tirtyari yu so langa. Na man na mi papa. Ma dorfu opo na tori nanga en. ‘A no de fanowdu fu sma kon sabi. Mi no ben go na wroko fu kon na koranti,’ Nelis e piki. A no lobi op' opo kwetkweti. ‘Mi papa, yu e go gi wan bigi poku no?’ ‘Ayi, na so mi taki yèrè.’ Efu a yere yu e taki na tori, a e bari: ‘Ak, no bari so tranga! - dan en srefi e bari - a betre yu pay brotyasti en, efu poti en na konkruman tongo! No wan enkri boda no e ori dya. Fu san so dan? Yu meki en tide, yu meki en tamara. Tra tamara yu ari futu!’ Nanga dati a tapu na tori. Ay baya, trutru mi papa, mi no kon sabi yu.

Fa a de, awinsi yu abi wan alenkran na ini was'oso, nomo nomo a sa tan wasi nanga en beki. Èn no dorfu taki, fu eksempre, te mofoyari e kon so, fu go skuru en wasbeki. A e kisi wan atibron gi yu, dati yu e aksi yu srefi efu tangi de na grontapu ete. A no abi trobi fu naki na beki fow. En wanwan mu abi wán tepatu, wán nyanyanpreti nanga so moro na in' oso.

Luku fa a tranga! Luku fa a swaki, luku fa a de libisma. Na man di kan tanapu drikwarti yuru fesi wan singidosu nanga wan babari-oloysi na ini en anu, nomo fu fanga na joysti yuru bifo a go na waka.

Na man di e boro wrokope so fruku, no e rostu, bika te sirene e bari, doro e bradi opo fu swari wrokoman, a sa wani fu lon, lon, lon, ala den doro, ala den kamra, kibri en fesi, en baka, en skin, lon ala den trapu, den oposaka, teki wan sikiman wagi, wan skowtu-oto, opo sirene, bari, bari, krin en ati gi eri grontapu....

[p. 221]

Johanna Schouten-Elsenhout

Forefathers!
Invoke for the pagan priests
amidst the commons
where the voodoo snake rolls
with sand in his eyes
like a snake god
amidst the sun of every day.
Wake them, my forefathers,
in the medicine house,
in the middle of the Surinam earth.
Invoke and let Kromanti
dance the sekete on the beat of the big drum
amidst the spirits of the awese.
Honor the earth mother.
Fly up nengrekopu from the middle of the pool.
Time runs its course at the grave.

Hear my voice,
like a grio calling
behind a boulder large.
My heart beats deadlike with fear.
I'm looking for a hole to hide
where love is to be found.
I fly like a sun bird
amidst strong blasts
far above the highest peaks.
Rapids hear my voice.
My body trembles.

[p. 223]

 

 

 

 

The sky alone observes me

 

amidst this anxiety.

 

My land, my pedreku,⁸

 

my nest!

 

Perhaps I shall be touched by death,

 

within my dream.

It's almost impossible
to believe.
The time has come, man.
Breakers cut up
the huge waves.
My head is given to a dizziness
amidst the clouds.
The open mouth of the prow
tips and lets in water on all sides.
My soul
sinks amidst a floral sea of hope
where I beg for my daily bread
and get only inanities in return.
Amidst an ominous moon
syphilitic my heart becomes,
then takes another turn
midst the excitement of Stondansi,
where my life ebbs away
amidst
the hungry bellies
strewn under the sun.

The compass has measured out

8 Pedreku (also pronounced pegreku) is a small tree where this bird is supposed to have its nest.

[p. 225]

 

 

 

 

your steps.

 

A floozy's life is not straight.

 

In your death

 

and bridal gown so proud,

 

there life on earth

 

reveals its loveliest side.

 

When I see your face

 

in the gilded shine of the moon,

 

dark moon fades away.

 

Where I try with all my might

 

to hang on to the body,

 

there you slip away like anamu.

 

When I see you, floozy,

 

flit past on Awaradam,

 

I shall pray for the new morn

 

to let a new flood

 

pour itself o'er your dam.

My brand new clock
spread under wings
of bird of prey.
This I have won
as prize on Queen's Birthday.
The hour begins to chime,
recedes...¹¹
It seems as if I'd learn to swim
with magicality amidst the fire,
let it but be for one day long
to be submersed a fleeting time
amidst a sea of vampire blood
to set a mark on but a drop of my own sweat
and let it flow like water cold into the blood.
Fear then begins, usurps me whole.

11 This is one of the most difficult poems in the anthology. Our interpretation (and translation) hinges on the line e waka a baka (literally ‘walks back’), which may be translated in relation to a clock as ‘walks backward’ or ‘is slow.’ We have assumed that the clock walks backward and takes the poet to past times, where she is confronted with the horrible age of slavery and eventually regains consciousness at the site of the old Jewish cemetery, Betkayn (Beth Chaim), amidst the bones of dead slaves.

[p. 227]

 

 

 

 

Instead of entering into yesteryears,

 

I jump with my eyes closed

 

straight into the river Surinam.

 

And when I raised my head again,

 

I saw that I was back once more

 

amidst the Jewish cemetery,

 

among the dank airs

 

of the rotten bones

 

of slaves of yesteryears.

I will no heart
without a soul,
I want a living spirit.

I wear no shoes
which do not fit,
I wear my very own clogs.

I do not look
at another's face,
but in my very own mirror.

A lovely sea breeze
which blows from Bramspoint¹²
into
the river Surinam,
lulls my spirit.
The splash of the waves
on the side of the mooring place
tames my tiger spirit.
The fast-flowing stream
amidst the river
which turns into a weir

12 Branspen is a place on the west bank of the Surinam River, close to the sea. Matros broki, also called in Dutch Marinetrap, here translated simply by ‘mooring place,’ is a small quay in the center of Paramaribo, near the old fort. This poem also seems to have definite political connotations. The poet does not want to be lulled to sleep by beautiful promises.

[p. 229]

 

 

 

 

at the mooring place of my heart,

 

breaks down my protecting spirit,

 

right down to the ground.

 

I would

 

a new day dawns

 

to wake this soul of mine,

 

so that it jumps into the sky,

 

now that this nice sea breeze

 

is almost laid to rest.

Look!
Smoke comes
from my thin mosquito net.
Whence comes the fire?
A soft smile
is hidden
there where my blood
to water turns
to heat up my innermost.
Fix your eyes to the middle
of the fast-flowing stream:
my long, long tears
send out a message
to those of mine
far across on the other side,
that my breath
is almost stilled.
Not even a scribble is returned,
never.
Stay well then, my soft smile.
Fare thee well,
my long, long tears.

Oh ho!

[p. 231]

 

 

 

 

My sekete woman

 

amidst the clear shine of the moon

 

in the forest, under the branches

 

of the imposing cotton tree,

 

where the big drum shakes the earth

 

and jostles my tiger spirit.

 

There is nothing to free my spirit

 

which stands nailed in front of the flowers

 

your awese feet trace on the ground.

 

Your sways cut the body

 

on the beat of the kwakwabangi,

 

your body in the pretty stripes

 

of that wraparound of yours.

 

Observe those two blue eyes

 

and the little one's golden hair,

 

that flower next to you

 

who raises his head on high

 

and wakens up my soul

 

from a deep sound sleep. Your kinky hair scrubs clean

 

my brains that I may see

 

two eyes which sparkle so,

 

and washed my soul quite clean,

 

which cleaves the darkness here

 

and jumps and struggles toward the light

 

to find out

 

what binds love and blood.

I can no longer bear it,
Mother of the earth,
the things that I see.
I've had my fill of it
to hear tales every day
which cleave my heart in two.

I can no longer bear it
to be with empty pockets
midst this satiating life

[p. 233]

 

 

 

 

that I can hardly withhold from saying:

 

Forgive,

 

Oh Lord my God,

 

Paupers are not greedy.

 

 

 

I can no longer bear it,

 

Mother of the earth,

 

midst the catfish of the slave times

 

which daily swim in my blood.

 

 

 

I can no longer bear it,

 

drum of the Apinti,

 

the forbidden dance done in disguise¹⁵

 

which one dances to keep up faith.

 

I won't take part any more.

 

 

 

I want the drumming in the open

 

like a citizen who is free.

 

 

 

People!

 

For this

 

do I dare today.

Black night,
granite eyes,
ugly wiles
on the cold
ground.
Youthful years
seducing me
at the feast.
Savannah flower
lifting up the face
as red as blood eyeing me,
let the big dream
indicate
a footprint
where the morning star

15 Pagan religious dances were not permitted, and participants could be punished. This law is, however, not enforced any more.

[p. 235]

 

 

 

 

casts a shining gleam

 

along the way

 

of an everlasting sombre moon.

In the drops of the rainy season,
Oh my love!
On the diamond-studded path of the night
I see that you shrink
from the dark years
of my life. You have arisen
like a long lost dream which came true.
A Creole who slept
midst the dark alleys of life,
startled like a malarial mosquito
to look for life hiding itself
amidst the sun and rain,
under the strong roots dangling from the branches of a tree:
how blow they not to be a wind that whirls
and cause huge trees to sway from side to side.
Slowly the heart reaches the bottom of the heart.
The body becomes a slave to blood.
Oh my open-faced woman of Surinam
with your real, deep love,
you've dared to show yourself on the gilded path:
new dawn
amidst the fayalobi trees.¹⁷

Let me stroll
under your parasol,
morning star,
on the polished silvery path
of life,
amidst the prickly roses,
so that I may touch the face of the sun
which deeply mellows the ground of my heart.

17 Fayalobi is a bush with red flowers.

[p. 237]

 

 

 

 

See how I stalk

 

between the snakes

 

only to see your face, my golden moon.

 

Ah, bare to me your greater glory

 

and clear bright light,

 

that I find a small seed of the everlasting flower

 

to sow it in my soft heart

 

and let it grow.

Michaël Slory

When the clock announced the closing of the hour,
I felt my life streaming past.
The cock of the year gone by did crow
a single time, but I wept so.

Streets
where the sun has left its mark on every grain of sand,
think of the footsteps which have farther gone.
Gutters which were dug out to lead away the streaming water,
lengthen yourself, till your foam
hears my name.
Earth that shaped me
will take me back again,
but my voice which called
among the trees,
will it be lost?
Streets, sleep not!
Gutters, don't dry!

It seems
as if the moon is chasing me.
It seems
as if the trees are all around me.
Mama!

[p. 239]

 

 

 

 

What's gliding past under the branches

 

toward the corner over there?

 

Under the bridge over the gutter

 

lies a pipe...¹⁸

 

Mama!

 

 

 

A man is walking next to me,

 

without body, without feet.

 

I gasp for breath.

 

It seems as if foam appears

 

and downward drools.¹⁹

 

Mama!

Bamborita, bamborita!
When the palms of coconut are falling,
without nuts,
I do not eat.

Sits a grikibi a-singing,
undaunted
in the highest tree.
When the trees of palm are falling,
sits the grikibi a-singing.

I will then be transported
like the clouds of cotton creeping
up my back
and stomach.

But the palms of coconut are falling,

18 Evil spirits may live in the metal or concrete pipes that allow the water of a stream or gutter to pass under the road. Small children are afraid to pass by them after sunset.

19 Probably the poet refers to the bakru, evil spirits that may take the form of a human being but with some strange differences of appearance, e.g., they may be half wood. The foam coming from an anthill betrays the presence of a dangerous spirit, called Akantamasu.

[p. 241]

 

 

 

 

slowly, slowly. Grikibi has flown away.

 

I don't eat, Oh bamborita,

 

without nuts

 

I do not eat.

How India
prickles my skin,
with bangles
on my feet,
golden chains round my neck,
glittering knobs in my nose.
Who fills
my basket
with greens for the morning,
May?
Here and there a broken window open.
The edges of the feet are nothing but corns,
healed by the heat of the sand.
Behind there in the backyard:
an iron cask.
In the midst of the town:
plots, houses.

You are pink.
Your clothes are pink
like the day's early dawn
over the stringbean beds,
wet, dipped only in dew.

[p. 243]

 

 

 

 

A clear morning sun

 

lightens up

 

your whole body.

 

The holy pagwa

 

beats his tadya

 

when the night descends.

 

My back is blue

 

from then till now. The marks

 

can't go away;

 

but we'll find a way out.

I wear my trousers green.
The sky is black.
Scorching sun has burnt a mark
in my eyes.
My red handkerchief
devours my sweat.
The lilac flowers
on the main road.
Under a tree
a bull tosses
a man away.
My whole body is gooseflesh.
Blood lies so spent
on the grass.
What will it do now?
Fear cuts off my breath.

The red of the afternoon
embraces the sun away.
The stars trickle down
here and there a flame
to the earth.
All color changes,
turns into silver.
Moonlight paints
with its silvery brush

[p. 245]

 

 

 

 

the paths of the world.

 

The sky is such an azure blue.

 

In this I am shown

 

how far God's eye can roam.

The beads of your eyes
are crystal clear,
clearer than rain water,
quieter than a creek in a bush,
where only the wind comes to doze
under the branches.
Rosalina,
does your voice store so much gold,
that even the moon pulls in its breath
for fright?

Keep me within the span of your hand,²³
anchor me firmly to your boat,
tie the line fast
which now you let in the water sink,
where we'll melt into one life,
one love.

The way is long.
I walk on my toes
until I arrive.
The sinews of my body
tire out.
A dove, symbol
of unfettered thoughts,
shoots into the sky
to meet the blue...
Small chance!
He will bash his wings

23 The expression anda is used in a game of marbles. The first marble that is thrown to within a distance of another marble that can be bridged by the span of the player's hand wins.

[p. 247]

 

 

 

 

'gainst the crust of the earth,

 

till they break.

If Buddha rises
for a meeting with Christ,
a new feeling will break through.
The thinking of Surinam
will bind all
into one.

We shall ponder the day
when preachers said:
once upon a time, once upon a time ...
Buddha alone stood firmly erect
surveying the fields,
filled only with rice
and only with cows.
Above the bedsteads Christ was suspended,
stretched to full length
nailed in his own blood
on his cross,
so sad, so sad.
And he was still white.

But now
The fight is fought.
Peace has won.
Only together can we go
forward.
Only together
can we come to terms
with what nibbles at our souls.

Signal my words
to those who remain.
Open their eyes,
let them not lie.

[p. 249]

 

 

 

 

Lift up their feet

 

across the old sores.

 

Baptize their souls

 

with a fresh start.

 

 

 

Thus we'll go

 

forward

 

under the star

 

which heralds the new time.

 

 

 

Then we shall feel

 

all like one man,

 

people of a nation,

 

where no partition is found.

Make way, negro!
When we look back
on that which has happened,
we shrink away
in ‘let bygones be bygones.’
But when I turned around
and saw the sea,
mash of white foam
rolling over the parwa trees,²⁴
one long, long tear,
I groaned inside:
Make way, negro!
How much we look
in the mirror of events,
which is black, black?

Coconuts, how you used to whistle, young one from Leasowes.

24 Parwa trees grow in the flooded land near the sea.

[p. 251]

 

 

 

 

I witnessed it, bato, gongote.²⁶

 

How did not bats come flappingly down.

 

I witnessed it, bato, gongote.

 

Waves, gilded waves on the river.

 

I witnessed it, bato, gongote.

 

They are brought to a halt and then spend themselves jerkingly on the riverbank.

 

I witnessed it, bato, gongote.

 

Milk of coconuts is extended like the bosrokoman.²⁷

 

I witnessed it, bato, gongote.

 

Like deities did milk and honey the scepter sway.

 

I witnessed it, bato, gongote.

 

Spirits cascaded into the sky and were brooms.

 

I witnessed it, bato, gongote.

 

Shrubs kept the kwikwi²⁸ in the fishing ponds apart.

 

I witnessed it, bato, bongote.

 

Rice and watercress even in the furrows.

 

I witnessed it, bato, gongote.

 

The kawina drummers had eyes pomegranate red.

 

I witnessed it, bato, gongote.

 

And the oil glowed on all their joints.

 

I witnessed it, bato, gongote.

 

The canal was schooner-filled like mounds of rice.

 

I witnessed it, bato, gongote.

 

Gamelan and tadya²⁹ carried on the wind.

 

I witnessed it, bato, gongote.

 

Meanwhile the beetle gnaws at the hearts of the trees.

26 This line is a good example of the almost ritual manner in which stories are frequently interrupted by the audience. The poet has added gongote to the original formula. This word is also used as an interruption in a popular children's rhyme. It has a highly emotive connotation in Surinam. It means literally ‘banana flour,’ formerly the staple diet of the slaves.

27 Bosrokoman is the name of a little fish that swells up the moment it is outside the water.

28 Kwikwi is a fish highly appreciated in Surinam.

29 Gamelan is the traditional music of the Indonesians. Tadya is a traditional Indian drum.

[p. 253]

 

 

 

 

I witnessed it, bato, gongote.

 

Dry peel of the sweet bean shaped into a cord around my waist.³⁰

 

I witnessed it, bato, gongote.

 

And later on the kerchiefs which elevated my soul.

 

I witnessed it, bato, gongote.

 

That alone, no worry, barring a little jealousy.

 

I witnessed it, bato, gongote.

 

And the cows blew bubbles in pure delight.

 

I witnessed it, bato, gongote.

 

All that remained was the song of the cricket at the close of day.

 

I witnessed it, bato, gongote.

 

 

 

Gongote! Gongote!

 

O gongote, O portent³¹

 

with a voice sharp as the wind from the sea.

 

O tall parasols,

 

coconut gongote woman is like wine!

30 From the dry peels children fashion a cord that they wear round the waist.

31 It is not quite clear whether the voice refers to ‘portent’ or the ‘crickets.’

Edgar Cairo

Life

You might think that life among people isn't pleasant. How would you feel if they had put you alone among so many delectable things? You might want to lie down all alone in a rapid with beautiful yellow and brown stones. The water cools you. The water heals all ponderous thoughts. The water deafens you to the voice of conscience. If you can feel yourself all alone you might be lifted up by the water and placed amidst the pure and hallowed ones. One would have a separate place. Among them it would be possible to live. One would be able to sample the lovely feeling of the holy day. But one cannot talk to the hallowed, because they have no tongues to lie with. One only sees them from a distance. I believe that in this way it is only possible to tarry before the face of God for one day. Then you would have to descend to the rapids, far away from the din of the city. When hunger assails you there is always the hut. What a feast awaits there - but there is none around. How long can one stand up to it? Some people would last for one week. Others one month. The exception

[p. 255]

would keep it up for one year. But in the end one would go mad. One would die.

Therefore some people have lots of friends, others have few. But my father had hardly any. To tell the truth, he had but one. To be quite frank, he had had one. It was a real friend. What one would call a bosom pal. They were together at school. They shared the good and bad times of Surinam. When the city was in an uproar, then were they also excited. When the city was calm, then were they at ease. Edi he was called. Master Edi to me. Master Edi was a tailor. He was very lean.

He used to get a cough that had no end. There was always a piece of tobacco dangling from his lips. I used to call it his ‘tobacco worm.’ He was always puffing at his very strong tobacco. Coughingly, the smoke belched from his throat. From his lips, which were as sharp as the edge of a wooden tray, drooled tobacco juice. He wiped the back of his hand along them. His face was grooved like the stripes that children leave in the earth when they play. He tried to walk with a walking stick because one foot was not as God had made those of other people. Oh Edi! Now you are no longer there, friend. How time flies. I used to see you so clearly. Today I would rather not see you any more.

When my father Nelis had his birthday, not many people turned up. A friend or two popped in, but left soon afterward, because my father did not like shop talk. He sat with his hands folded under his chin. But when Master Edi came, then it was another story. Then they made hay while the sun shone. They wetted their throats with ginger beer and tasted a piece of the birthday cake. Never was there any strong liquor around, because my father neither drank nor smoked: ‘My money is my liquor and my work my smoke,’ he used to say. When the boys at work heard this, they burst out laughing. What a guy! Even Master Edi laughed, baring all his teeth, which were black with the pure tobacco. Now his turn had come. With a slight sigh he started talking.

Sailors who came to him to have their clothes sewed never paid. Although his wife was very old, they couldn't refrain from making a pass at her. Once one of these muscle men descended on him searching for his daughter. Ah, look at Master Edi now! He grabbed his knife, but he lacked guts, with the result that he ran away as soon as he could to hide behind a stone wall. Now when the man - he did not know the place - turned his back on Master Edi, he chucked his walking stick at him. With the words, ‘Come now, I shall strip you of

[p. 257]

your lewdness,’ he wound himself up thoroughly and opened his knife to help the man along to the graveyard. The poor sailor prized his life and took to his heels. In this way did it end.

Another story again concerned someone for whom he used to sew. One day he remained in bed longer than usual. He ate a salted lemon because fever had dried his mouth and had affected his taste. And who should stroll along on this early morning? The police. The police?! He was wearing underpants made out of a flour bag. Quickly he put on his flannel vest, his braces, and a type of yellow-white shirt which had not yet been bleached. He had to go with Kowlader at once. What had happened? Well, someone had brought along some material from which to make a wedding suit. He had noticed that there was a lot of material, but he was so preoccupied with his luck that it didn't occur to him that it might have been stolen.

Edi kept on talking until he came to the story of how people tried to bewitch him with money. But alas, it did not turn out the way the damned guy thought it would. Luckily for Edi he had a cowry shell in his wallet. And because he had just prior to that bought a lemon to remove with the help of some ash the persistent odor from his armpit nothing happened. It even happened that the evil spirit became angry. When the man passed on the money, his hand remained stretched out.³²

Tales of experience rolled to and fro until about nine o'clock. Then Master Edi took his felt hat and his walking stick to go home. Until the following year, God be willing.

When night fell my parents pushed the two chairs to the side. When I was sleepy the sleeping mat had to be unrolled early. I could not stay awake to listen to Master Edi's savory stories, because the man did not like children to interfere with the tale or prick up their ears. You dare to look at him as if he is a circus! One smack and you've had it. Me, he could not touch. My father would see to that. I could not come to sit and listen, therefore I went to bed. When the time came I could hear the walking stick going away. Tiko ... Tiko ... Tiko ... as if spirits were playing marbles in the middle of the night. Tiko ... Tiko.

Days ahead I dreamt that such and such would come.³³ That same night my child's brain was buzzing with stories. Had it been possible

32 Cowry shells and lemons are used as protective medicines against witchcraft. In this case the medicines turn the evil spirits against the user.

33 This whole passage is unreal and refers to nightmares which the child had that night.

[p. 259]

I would have chased him away. When he picked me up I beat him in the face with my fists, struck him ... until he had no eyes, no nose, no mouth. I did not want him to be recognizable any more, because he was my father's only friend. He alone could take my father away from me. On this night I did not sleep so well.³⁴

Later on I had an idea how to solve the problem. I even blackened the man. Afterward Master Edi became very sick. As time went by he could not work so well any more. His throat became so raw with coughing that he vomited like a pregnant woman. It would happen that he made the one leg of the trouser bigger than the other. My father was angry, because people would think he had a swollen leg.³⁵ This was where I wanted him. I was naughty. I was spoilt. I did not want things to be different from the way I wanted them. Consequently I came home crying one day. Once more the clothes were wrongly cut. The tailor found that I was growing fast, and because I was reaching for the sky like a mansipari,³⁶ he sewed the new school trousers long and wide. I entered the house crying. All of a sudden my father became very angry. ‘You can take back the trousers. He can keep them. Let him wear them himself.’ Thus a friendship which had lasted so long came to an end. If you had thought that an iron cord bound these two together, then you were wrong. Corn silk appeared to be stronger.

Now when I think back on it, I sit with my head bowed like a sick bird. People don't know what depresses me so.

Edi was sick. He went to the hospital. First they operated on his scrotum. Then they had to remove his testicles. Still later they operated on his penis. But by then death winked at him. He came from the operating room. They put him on the bed and at the same time death got hold of him. There was no human being to give him a draught of water.

It was sad at Ondrobon where he lived. It seemed as if the tamarind trees lost more leaves in that week than in a whole year. On the day of the funeral the rain added its portion. All the pallbearers were thoroughly soaked. They looked like vultures. Edi was lucky. My father was following the bier.

34 The expression mi ben fasandruku is left untranslated. The expression is unknown to us but perhaps refers to a restless, nervous sleep.

35 Many inhabitants of Paramaribo formerly had legs swollen by elephantiasis.

36 We do not know what mansipari means. It may be a species of tree or grass. It is used here to refer to a tall, thin youth.

[p. 261]

Lately Nelis rails at the young laborers where he works. They listen attentively to him. Then they suddenly laugh. Without being funny, this man is a real man. If you observe his manner of working closely, you will see that he is not lazy. He does not accompany any of them for a drink. When they arrive at work, he is already there. When he has to be there at 7 o'clock, count on it that he'll be there at 6 o'clock. In truth, they know him like a real father. But as the older people say: ‘There's more to a person than meets the eye.’ It's what you don't see through the fire of corn husks that causes the fire. You would have to look more closely. Therefore many of these youngsters didn't know that my father's smile was not from his heart.

When he was at home, he locked himself up in his room the whole day long and pulled a blanket over his head. When he was in the mood for an outing, he never paid heed to time, nor did he come home. Perhaps he was ashamed of himself. I know people who look as if their spirit had deserted them. A man of his age used to cut his hair. They knew each other like two fingers. They had many things to tell each other. To my knowledge, they never spoke about women. They exchanged common experiences - that life has become so expensive, that the streets are becoming increasingly fuller, how to cope with present-day life.

Then at a certain point my father wanted to open his mouth, to reveal his heart, to give vent to all his pent-up feelings. A man is only a man, and in these things a man can't let himself go as he wishes. It gave him tension and headaches. When Nelis planted himself in the big and mighty chair, then he would have wanted the foam to grow, grow, grow until it covered his whole face. A mountain, a mountain to cover his breath. It seems as if the razor blade will cut his throat ... as if the lamp will blind him. It's hot, the room is hot. He stands up as soon as it is possible and disappears into the cool night. In the distance someone laughs. He takes a breath.

My father doesn't love me any more. He doesn't love my mother either, nor does he love her children. My aunt on my mother's side, he can't stand her at all. He sends away his own relations when they come to ask for something. ‘Let them look for a man or go to the almshouse. I have no flag at the mast inviting people to come and fetch something.’ Once a member of the family invited him to a feast. But because one of Nelis's uncles had recognized this branch of the family,³⁷ so that, as far as he was concerned, they were not

37 In Surinam one can officially ‘recognize’ a child, which makes him a legal member of the family, although, from a biological point of view, he may not belong to the family at all.

[p. 263]

really family, he became angry. ‘I did not buy family. I don't understand why they cause us this trouble.’ And that was that.

As I've said, the aunt for whom he had no love lived in Combe. Listen to what happened. She took care of my mother until she grew up. A fat woman with a big bottom! The sailors who came from British Guyana loved my mama. ‘Sweet Mary’ they called her when she came to sell delicacies to them. I was not there to see whether sometimes they did not make a pass at Sweet Mary, whether they did not pinch her bottom. Probably they did. In Surinam the negroes have nothing, but bottoms they certainly have in abundance.

Another of my aunts had an even bigger one! Perhaps for this reason there was something between her and my father. Things went so far that the girl came to live with us, even though my mother was the woman of the house. But my mother was weak. She did not have the guts to chuck someone out on the street. I have heard that when my mother was expecting me she sat on the side of the house, to catch the breeze. Because it was already dark, she pulled up her dress so that the wind could cool her belly. And then, dammit all, she heard something fall next to her. She looked. One of those old-fashioned irons had fallen to the ground. No one around in the window above, but my mother knew that the girl had tried to murder her out of sheer jealousy.

She's a devil and has got her deserts. I don't know exactly what happened, but I've heard that they fetched her and a youth from the bush. They had to transport them in an ambulance. They could not be separated. People say that she was bewitched because she specialized in stealing other women's husbands. Others say that in their lechery they went to lie precisely on the place where there was an akantamasu,³⁸ so that he had punished them. I don't know who to believe, but I know that she got what was coming to her: a person will reap what he sows.

As I've said, I have an aunt in Combe. Her house was filled with religious pictures. She vies with the church in the lighting of candles. When she kneels to pray, she falls asleep. In this manner she vies in prayer with the priest until about midnight. Her body then was benumbed: ‘E ... e ... e ... I'm not so young any more.’ She still dreams that one day someone will do her a favor on a big anniversary

38 Akantamasu is an evil spirit that lives in anthills.

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and hire a cab to take her for a ride around town.³⁹ And when she returns home someone must play the piano for her. And on the same night there should be square and barn dances.

My aunt harbors more taboos than a witch doctor. The older she becomes, the more she buys golden trinkets, because her soul demands it of her. One day, you know how women are, they can't pass by a close acquaintance without popping in, my mother went to visit my aunt. She sat talking for a while. Then my mother remembered that she had a small note which she had to deliver at my father's place of work. The man did not want to go to his work because he found it hard. Because my mother couldn't read, she gave the note to my aunt. She straight away went to the cupboard containing the provisions, took her matches and set fire to the note. She mumbled some nice chants which I can't repeat to you. All this time my father was waiting at home. He was sitting on hot coals because he thought they would give some money to his wife. When she came home the fat was in the fire. For a long time they exchanged no words. My father held it against my mother. For days on end he uttered no word. He was as sour as vinegar. My mother on the other hand tried very hard to make up to him again. She had no objection to prepare other food, if my father threw away the first dish. The way they behaved, the two could have gone to act on the stage of the Thalia.⁴⁰

The thing which caused them to be on speaking terms again was a quarrel which one of the women of the yard, Syako, had with her husband. It was about another woman. Syako owned a chicken. The other also had one. The two chickens resembled each other. A few days before Christmas the other woman started to prepare her chicken, with all her black pepper and nutmeg. She stewed the chicken. Hold on! ... she heard someone abusing her. It was Syako. Syako had disliked her for a long time, but had never come to blows with her. Everybody's mother's intimate parts were heard in the air.⁴¹ Only because she had taken the wrong chicken. The quarrel lasted the whole morning. Now the one had the upper hand, now the other. The woman boldly pushed the whole pan into Syako's hands. But it seemed as if the child in Syako's womb wanted to fan the fire, for she took the whole pan and chucked it to the dogs. Precisely at that point Syako's husband

39 Every five years the so-called ‘big birthday’ is celebrated, with more festivities than the ordinary birthday party.

40 The Thalia is a well-known theater in Paramaribo.

41 Many common terms of abuse refer to the intimate parts of the mother of the abused.

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came back from his work. The sun was hot. He threw his bicycle aside, picked up an iron bar used for killing rats, and ran after Syako. In her excitement Syako took to her heels. While we sat gossiping we heard a blood-curdling yell. At the same moment the door was thrown open. A pail of water fell over. My mother was busy cleaning catfish. All the water fell on Syako, who had entered unexpectedly. We heard something falling against the partition. Bam! It was the iron bar. The woman had such a fright that I think the child she carried in her womb was bound to be dumb.

My parents bathed Syako in perfumed water. They recalled her soul. No wonder, with all this catfish water on her.⁴² They rubbed her belly with boa fat which was in a caster oil bottle. My brother had got it from a Djuka. After the quarrel I was amazed. I saw my parents talking again as if nothing had happened. Yes, trouble and death cement everything.

My father didn't love my aunt until she died. But when we were in trouble, where were we forced to run to? Right there. It wasn't the best solution, still we could find shelter there against the sun and rain. When the hooligans in the area came along, they pelted precisely this place with stones. Everything they saw in the cinema they put into practice there, with the result that we had no peace of mind. If, for example, you place some pomerak⁴³ on the side of the road and you return a little later, it may drive you crazy, but the tray is lost, my dear! Even the police can't help you. They would steal the whole tray of nice things from your head. They had no respect for the golden things on your body. Certainly not for the Javanese who carry golden things in their hair. Gang and gang were up against each other.

My parents did not stay there. They went to live at Saramacca Street.⁴⁴ Daily I took food to them. Their house was small. For this reason it's better to call it a hovel. There was nothing under the corrugated iron, which formed a kind of triangle with a small opening at the back. When the sun shone fiercely you could not sit above

42 Catfish is a taboo for many Creoles.

43 Pomerak is a pear-shaped purple fruit displayed for sale on the sidewalk. The boys steal not only the fruit but also the wooden tray it is displayed on.

44 The story is not very clear at this point. The author first mentions that the family had to live with the despised aunt in Combe (one of the quarters of Paramaribo), and then says that the parents were living in Saramacca Street (in another quarter of the town). Probably the boy (or children) stayed with the aunt, who also prepared food for the parents.

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unless you wanted to be roasted. When it was cold at night you became as cold as dew. As a matter of fact, none of us could close an eye in the loft. It was haunted there, so that we removed the ladder and put it outside. At the back of the house there was a sort of protection which I made from planks when I came to live there. I put a piece of canvas over it. It was supposed to be the bathroom. The first day I came there it was so strange.

Imagine a shoemaker's backyard full of bits of leather. Club-footed people's old shoes, all this type of rubbish was there. On the other side of the house was a mill where peanut butter was made. Farther to the back was a sawmill which had deposited sawdust there. A tremendous mope tree stood on the plot with a small toilet under it. Instead of a well there was a water barrel. The front of the house consisted of a porch, kitchen, and dining room, all in one. So I came to live there. It was already late, so that we didn't stay up too long. I spread a cloth for a blanket. I didn't even have a sleeping mat. In the night I heard my parents making a lot of noise. I thought that grownups should know for themselves how to make love. It wasn't my affair. I did not sleep that night.

Mosquitoes! When I woke up in the morning, I was covered with lumps. Just guess what caused it. Bugs! It was for this reason that my parents had been so restless, no other. They lay on a mattress which was filled with bugs. Their pillow was white with bug eggs. The floor planks had seams where I lay. The vermin hid under the house. At night they looked like madmen. But I paid them back in kind. I saw to it that I had a piece of canvas, cut it open and sewed the ends in such a way that I could turn it into a hammock. But I was thin and long like a manspari. When I woke up the following morning, I couldn't get up. The entire night I lay folded up. Mosquitoes! Even ants pestered one.

People say that it never rains but it pours. While I was struggling with all these problems, my father never bothered one bit about me. Not so long afterward we found a house. My aunt in Saramacca Street died. Now my mother inherited a few things. Things seemed worse on my father's side. Still, because they slept on the ground ever since they started to live together and because they now got an old bed, they were happy. My mother laughed, my father showed no emotion. The bed was big. It was covered with copper decorations. In order to get it to the loft I had to cut off part of it. The springs were worn out, so that my parents had to put some planks on it. In the beginning my father was angry. He curled himself up in a corner. But my mother, poor soul, she wasn't used to it and kept falling off. Later on my

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father got used to it, so that he went to lie upstairs even when the sun was shining. Such poverty! We even had to plaster the glass of the oil lamp with paper when it was broken as a protection against the wind. Such poverty! Nelis would have had a heart of stone to refuse such a thing. A nice bed for a sweet woman, that was one of the things for which he had yearned for such a long time. True or not true? Something to his heart's content.

There were so many places to work in town, but there is only one where a man had worked for thirty years. Not three days. That is something to rejoice about, to praise God that He granted you this for such a long time. That man was my father. But just dare to speak about it. ‘People have nothing to do with it. I did not go and work to get publicity,’ Nelis answered them. He disliked being cock of the walk. ‘Father, you're going to hold a big feast, aren't you?’⁴⁵ When he heard someone saying that, he called out, ‘Oh, don't shout like that’ - he himself was shouting - ‘Why don't you broadcast it or spread it among the gossips? There won't be any feast here. What for? You're successful today, you're successful tomorrow, the day after tomorrow you're on the street.’ With this he put an end to it. Yes, yes, truly father, how I came to know you.

He was such a type that if you had a tap in your bathroom, even then he would still use only a bowl. And don't dare to scrub his bowl at New Year, for example. Then he became so angry that you wondered whether there was still gratitude left in this world. He was capable of crushing the bowl. In the house he had a teapot all to himself, a plate all to himself, and many other things.

See how strong he is, how weak he is, how human he is. The man who could stand for three-quarters of an hour in front of the radio with an alarm clock in his hand only to find out the right time before he goes out; the man who arrived at his work so early, allowed himself no time for pausing because when the siren goes off and the gates open up to suck in the workers, then he would have run, run, run through all the doors, all the rooms, conceal his head, his back, his body, run up all the stairs, take all the elevators, take an ambulance, a police car, put on the siren, yell, yell, pour out his heart to the whole world.

45 We have left untranslated the ironic reaction of the father, ‘Ayi, na so mi taki yèrè’ (‘Of course, that is what I said’). This reaction does not fit in with the next line.

7 Awese is difficult to translate. It is used in the non-Christian religion. There seems to be no clear relation with the poem. The poem invokes the pagan forefathers (kabra) and asks them to awaken the different gods such as fodu or papawinti (names for the same snake god), kromanti (a group of African gods), and gronmama (the earth deity). The bird nengrekopu may also refer to a god but seems in this poem to be used more as a symbol for the true negro spirit.

9 Arwepi is the name of a white bead used in religious and medical ceremonies. The name does not seem to be related to the poem, which instead deals with the false hopes awakened by politicians. Stondansi is the name of a great project that has given new hope to the poor.

10 We have left the title untranslated, but in the poem itself the word yayofowru (literally ‘wandering bird’) has been translated as ‘floozy.’ Other untranslated words are anamu, a kind of chicken, and Awaradan, a back alley in Paramaribo.

13 Sekete is a bushnegro dance. Here the word awese is also used with a sort of generalized undefinable meaning (cf. note 7). The kwakwabangi is a wooden bench played as a drum with wooden sticks. The poem deals mainly with racial mixing.

14 Kodyo is a name given to a male child born on Monday. Apinti is a certain kind of drum used in religious dances.

16 Amemba is the name given to a female child born on Saturday.

20 Bamborita is the name for a brightly colored weekend shirt. The shirt referred to in this poem has coconut palms on it, which make the poet think of Coronie, the place of his birth. When the shirt creeps up on the body (probably when the person wearing it starts dancing), the coconut trees seem to fall sideways. This makes the poet think of the bad economic situation of Coronie, which depends mainly on coconut cultivation. Palm disease threatens to starve the whole population. A grikibi is a small bird.

21 This poem deals with the racial tensions between Creoles and Indians in Surinam. The poet is irritated and charmed by the Indians, who form the economic backbone of the society. Unlike the Creoles, the Indians live in very poor conditions but save a lot of money. East Indian women are often called May.

22 Dyewal Persad is an Indian name. The pink color that pervades the poem refers to the Indian pagwa ceremony, in which Indians throw a red colored fluid on each other's clothes. This rosy optimism is contrasted with the blue marks of slavery, which characterize the Creoles. The tadya is an Indian drum.

25 Coronie is a district in Surinam that was brought under cultivation only after 1800 by English and Scottish plantation owners during the interim period of British rule. For this reason the plantations often carry British names, like Leasowes in this poem. After emancipation the slaves of each plantation jointly purchased the plantation from their former masters and tried to keep it running. Consequently, Coronie remained a predominantly Creole district, although small groups of Indonesians and Hindustani were settled there later on. Initially Coronie was only accessible by sea, and schooners carried its products to the capital. The wealth of Coronie was derived mainly from the cultivation of coconuts. In this poem we see coconuts as a symbol for wealth. In later years the district deteriorated greatly. The kawina is a popular dance.