Poetry of the Indian Ocean

http://fuuo.blogspot.com/2014/03/comoros.poetry.anthology.fao.html

FAO Pro Tip #1 or Ode to VapoRub

UPDATE:  I brought back this tip with me stateside for some of those sporty short flights on regionals in the western US.

The first in a series of post offering professional tips for Foreign Area Officers.  As a FAO you will likely find yourself doing a fair share of travel on small, regional, aged, dated aircraft of questionable safety and sanitary standards--especially if you cover more than one country such as the case for me.

When there is so much that you CAN'T control--its important to control the things you can.  Below is my ode to that most essential of travel aids: VAPORUB.

ODE TO VAPO RUB

As I board the crowded dated plane
i'm oppressed by the stale stank air
stagnant and seeping hot.
a cold bead of sweat
peels
        down my side

As the last passengers are
crammed and shoved inside
I am slapped with such
a stankfunkystink
that I nearly gag

heart racing panic descends
as I am assaulted
my every effort consumes me
to not wrench my disgusted face
in the direction...directions?!
of this ancient sour stench

Surely I hope
surely you are with me
                                          my confidant my savior

ahh yes, yes

you rest silently in my pocket
the smooth small curves of your cylinder body
always at the ready

Quickly I uncap you
my fingers dive in and swing
from your eucalyptus branches
                                                                              heavens
I plunge your menthol rub                             the
into my nostrils                                    to
and                                       soaring
 goes my countenance
as I am enveloped in your
analgesic caress
that blocks out and protects me
from the vile olfactory siege
laid up on me.

I close my eyes and smile
safely ensconced in your
mentholated eucalyptol
arms.

LINKS:
FAO Pro Tip #2 -- You're only a handshake away
FAO Pro Tip #3 -- There's a reason NASA missions pack duct tape
List of other poems/notable prose written while in Madagascar

Sometimes When It Rains by Gcina Mhlophe

A beautiful poem from the South African poet, storyteller and activist Gcina Mhlophe.

Sometimes When It Rains by Gcina Mhlophe

Sometimes when it rains

I smile to myself

And think of times when as a child

I’d sit by myself

And wonder why people need clothes

Sometimes when it rains

I think of times

When I’d run into the rain

Shouting ‘Nkce—nkce mlanjana

When will I grow

I’ll grow up tomorrow

Sometimes when it rains

I think of times

When I watched goats

Running so fast from the rain

While sheep seemed to enjoy it

Sometimes when it rains

I think of times

When we had to undress

Carry the small bundles of uniforms and books

On our heads

And cross the river after school

Sometimes when it rains

I remember times

When it would rain hard for hours

And fill our drum

So we didn’t have to fetch water

From the river for a day or two

Sometimes when it rains

Rains for many hours without break

I think of people

Who have nowhere to go

No home of their own

And food to eat

Only rain water to drink

Sometimes when it rains

Rains for days without break

I think of mothers

Who give birth in squatter camps

Under plastic shelters

At the mercy of cold angry winds

Sometimes when it rains

I think of ‘illegal’ job seekers

In big cities

Dodging police vans in the rain

Hoping for darkness to come

So they can find some wet corner to hide in

Sometimes when it rains

Rains so hard hail joins in

I think of life prisoners

In all the jails of the world

And wonder if they still love

To see the rainbow at the end of the rain

Sometimes when it rains

With hail stones biting the grass

I can’t help thinking they look like teeth

Many teeth of smiling friends

Then I wish that everyone else

Had something to smile about

An excerpt from "Death Before Dying"--Sufi poetry from the 17th century

My Granny Nanny Darling (yes–that is the name by which my grandmother prefers to be addressed) and I exchange letters, books and poems from time to time.  I shared with her some Bedouin poetry that I had come across in my grad school research and she shared the below excerpt from The Sufi Poems of Sultan Bahu 1628-1658.  Sultan Bahu was a Sufi saint and prolific writer.  I love the poem below--it captures beautifully many aspects of Sufism but also the prospect of facing death at the end of life.  He remains one of the most popular poets in India and Pakistan today.

Neither am I Sunni nor am I Shi’a–my heart is bitter with both

of them.

All long, dry marches came to an end when I entered the sea

of mercy.

Many nonswimmers tried and lost; a few climbed the other bank.

They made it across safe and sound, Bahu, who clung to the

guide’s hem.

From “Death Before Dying” 

More links:
Sufi Poetry Blog

Some of my favorite poetry books:

Malagasy Romantic Poet Rabearivelo's "I" from "From the Night"

Malagasy Romantic Poet Rabearivelo's "I" from From the Night

I
A scarlet star
evolves in the depths of the sky--

what flower blooms in the prairie of the night?
Evolves, evolves,
then becomes like a kite released by a sleeping child.

It seems to drift both nearer and farther away,
loses its color like a drooping flower,
becomes cloud, becomes white, diminishes:
is no more than a diamond point
graving the blue mirror of the sky
where the glorious lure
of the nubile morning is already seen.

Other Madagascar Posts:
"Lunar Images" from Rabearivelo's From the Night
"Fruits" from Rabearivelo's Almost-Dreams
"9" from Rabearivelo's From the Night
"51" from Rabearivelo's Old Songs From Imerina Lands
"Zebu"from Rabearivelo's Almost Dreams
Peace Corps Vignette on Mango Season in Madagascar
Business Case Study on Mango Production in Madagascar
African Poets of the Week Compilation

Malagasy poet Rabearivelo's "Lunar Images" from 'Almost Dreams' (Saiky-Nofy)

Poem of the week from Malagasy poet Rabearivelo's "Lunar Images" from 'Almost Dreams' (Saiky-Nofy)

Lunar Images (Sarisarim-Bolona)

Moonlight, moonlight--what then?

Do not drink too much of the milk that drips
from the teats of this savage one-eyed dog
baying into the wild lands of the sky
as though to summon from within the desert of the night
its countless offspring
opening their eyes: myriads of stars

Moonlight, moonlight--what then?

The wind itself is milky,
which shakes the sculpted shadows
on the earth
and multiplies the number of visible
souls of all things
that seem to flee the baying--silent
but resounding everywhere

Moonlight, moonlight--what then?

Do you see those gentle birds
that grow within the spectral landscape?
They feed on shadow,
they peck at night.
What will they fill their crops
when the stalks of rice and corn
carried off by the cocks
become songs in them?

Moonlight, moonlight--what then?

I am no longer young enough
to seek a lunar sister outside
after the games of little girls:
I will hold my children on my lap until they fall asleep,
and there are many books to be read with my wife
until the moon changes
and becomes itself for us
while waiting for the dawn
that will overtake us on the shores of sleep.

Other Madagascar Posts:
"Fruits" from Rabearivelo's Almost-Dreams
"9" from Rabearivelo's From the Night
"51" from Rabearivelo's Old Songs From Imerina Lands
"Zebu"from Rabearivelo's Almost Dreams
Peace Corps Vignette on Mango Season in Madagascar
Business Case Study on Mango Production in Madagascar
African Poets of the Week Compilation

"Fruits" from Rabearivelo's "Almost-Dreams"

"Fruits" from Rabearivelo's "Almost-Dreams"

Fruits

You may choose

among the fruits of the perfumed season;

but this is what I will show you:

two plump mangos

where you may suck the sun melted within.

Which will you take?

This one, as double and firm

 as the breasts of a young girl,

and which is acid?

Or that one, pulpy and sweet as honey?

One will be only passionate delights, 

but will have no offspring

and will be covered by the grass.

The other,

a spring gushing from the rock,

will refresh your throat

and then become a vault full of echos in your courtyard,

and those who come after you will gather there fragments of the sun.

About the poet:
As someone who has always been drawn to the French Romantic poets, Rabearivelo strikes a chord with me.  As African poets go he's an obscure despite laying claim to the unofficial title as "Africa's first modern poet."
   
He died by suicide, in 1937 having lived his entire life on what was then the French pastoral colony of Madagascar (he was prohibited by the authorities from leaving the island).

Other Madagascar Posts:
http://fuuo.blogspot.com/2010/08/poem-of-week-jean-joseph-rabearivelo-9.html
http://fuuo.blogspot.com/2012/11/rabearivelo.51.songs.poetry.madagascar.html
http://fuuo.blogspot.com/2012/11/5-from-rabearivelos-from-night-nadika.html
http://fuuo.blogspot.com/2012/12/rabearivelos-zebu-from-almost-dreams.html
http://kruzoo.blogspot.com/2013/01/mangoseason.madagascar.html
http://www.docstoc.com/docs/49911288/Mango-Groove-(A)-1-Mahajanga-Madagascar

Some of my favorite poetry books: