Ebrahim Hussein: la poesía como terapia

For: Maria Ferreira (text and photos)

Ebrahim Hussein es conocido sobre todo como dramaturgo, aunque también destaca como poeta, si bien la mayoría de sus poemas forman parte de sus obras de teatro. Nació en 1943. Su padre era poeta y estaba muy bien considerado dentro de la comunidad musulmana de Dar Es Salaam, desde pequeño cultivó su interés por la poesía que fue derivando en su pasión dramatúrgica gracias a Bretch, among others. Se dedica a escribir y a leer mientras espera clientes (vende sal en su casa, de hecho en la puerta hay un cartel donde se puede leer “Chumvi safi”, que significa “sal de calidad”). “Ellos no paran de decir que estoy escondido: no es cierto, estoy trabajando… Nadie quiere escuchar mis lecturas, nobody wants to understand Brecht ", appointment to collects Alain Ricard and that says a lot about him in just two sentences.

The patient was staring at the floor, to protect me. I tried to establish a dialogue based sterile "should not"

He had one of his books, "Arusi", a day when talking to a patient at home, in Kamahuha. I felt pretty absurd, lost in a clinical justifications weak monologue about why he should stop drinking. The patient was staring at the floor, to protect me. I tried to establish a dialogue based sterile "should not". All very stilted and uplifting. All very manual. After a long time without receiving any response from you, I leaned back in my chair, silent, and I just wait for Ndung’u, psychiatric nurses. I picked up the book and began to leaf through. Then he looked at me. -What will?- I asked. -Of Love- I said. And I noticed that I looked, expectant. -You want to read you something?- asked. He nodded.

"Juu and huu use shuwari
Na Zimetanda kuenea,
Hasa Alfajiri
Use unajuwasha
Kwa Uzuri
Na Bashasha
Hasa wekundu
Yake Juu unapojipitia.

Hapo ndipo
Vitu hivi
Kope za na nyewelw Dukani,
Haiba na huzuni Hutiwa inayoingia.

Na Haiba
Huwa midomoni
Iliyo benuka
Katika Kicheko
Nina Hofu, mwenzangu uneniruka
Mimi has Mazingira na pia "

"Calm extending
on your face.
Especially is at dawn
When his face lights
With beauty,
with happiness.
Above all
when she blushes.

When blinks
Causes sad effect
and beauty finds her place.

In her open lips
With an inaudible laugh
I can not hear.
I fear my love will go away
From me and our world "

When I finished, the patient was smiling. We started talking about his youth, his wife, who had died years ago. I knew then I read that poem was as honest as he'd ever done. And I kept doing.
Another of the poems I read quite Ebrahim Hussein is one he wrote while studying with a German professor. It is called "Ngoma na Vailini" (Drums and violins, 1968). Expresses the division that has always felt between Europe and Africa.

Huo, mpwitopwito huo wa ngoma
Damu Unachemsa yang one yaliyo matamanio Ladha
Iliyopozwa na Damu kubembelezwa
Na vailini nyororo, vailini inayonita
Yenye huzuni Kwa furaha.

Sasa na nachemka kupwitapwita
Sasa na nna furaha kuburudika
Mdundo wa maisha
Raha and nafsi
Wapi Niende?

Should it-question, I must worship
Serve Allah
But he heard the voice a panda
Sound derived from a wear
Coats and cross?

Aqui esta el redoble del tambor
Preparando el pulso de mi Sangre con deseo placentero.
Sangre y que ha Sido apaciguada domesticada
Con el dulce Violin, llamándome, suplicándome
Con has mezcla de Tristeza y Alegría.

Brando y Ahora estoy palpitando,
Tranquilo y Ahora calmado.
El pulso de la vida
I lencioso El placer de la Mente
¿Que CAMINO tomaré?

Debería Morar, debería adorar a Dios
Rezo a sheath.
¿Pero el puede escuchar you voz dividida?
¿La voz de alguien que lleva al mismo tiempo
Coats y el la Cruz?

Ebrahim vio en Berlin. And 1995 escribió "Wall of Berlin" (El Muro de Berlin). En el que no bla de los sueños, System cruelty, of social frauds who drink the blood of workers. Brecht is your main reference. The day I read this poem, was a girl of seventeen named Amina.

-The dreams are useless- I said- if they served something I would not be sad.

-Why are you sad?- asked.

-Because there is nothing to do- answered.

And I had no choice but to agree with my silence. 17 years. Orphan. With three younger siblings to look after. AIDS. Pregnant.

-Would I read it again?- I asked.

-Sure!- challenged- Do you like?

I do not know- said smiling- but you're so funny when you read in Swahili.

Utuka wa Berlin (1995)
Ilivyo Ndivo kuwa
Jina the mfanyakazi, walichukuwa
Ufalme Kujenga wao
Use msingi, wala male pua.

Ndivo ilivokuwa
Muda haukuchukuwa
Ukuta ulianguka
Na Haukuwa msingi
Kiuno au muruwa.

Ndivo ilivokuwa
It was just a wall - killing machine
Paint it red
It is the blood of young ilivyowaua

Excitement was
Bound to see walls and walls
The wall falls walls
Non-core, Non-kindness..

Were found only, killing machines
Glad to know
There is a gentleman
Who feel a knowing

El Muro de Berlin (1995)
Tuve un Sueno
resultó que ser real.
See llamaban molecular mismos trabajadores
levantar para un Reino
Tenía que no cimientos, Ojos o Ariz..

Tuve un Sueno
resultó que ser real,
El Muro Cayo
No tenía cimientos
It apoyos, is dignidad.

Tuve un Sueno
resultó que ser real
Era solo un Muro - you maquina asesina
de color rojo
the Sangre de como los muertos Ninos.

Había felicidad
Al ver que empujaban Muros Muros
Muros que otros no Cian Caer Muros.
Que no tenían cimientos, is dignidad.

Solo que eran Muros - maquinas asesinas
Felicidad al saber
the solo que uno que era beer
Noble, sensible and wise.

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Comments (2)

  • R


    Poetry, good, establishing from the feeling for who has a gift, makes vibrate the soul; and that's what I can bring what seems infinitely far.
    Good work!!


  • MDV


    Muy buen trabajo! Combining poetry with your day to day in Africa helps to change perspectives and pull heart and feelings when neither reason nor the means are at your fingertips. Thanks as always for sharing.


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