What happens when cultural taboos
collide with ‘human/individual behavior/drive’’? Who wins? When should
‘societal’ mores be deemed self-destructive to the general psyche’? When should
parents’ personal responsibility to their children, as individuals, supersede
the collective entity/state’?
The poem A MALIAN NARRATIVE illustrates
possible conflicts.
A MALIAN
NARRATIVE
“Mackau’s
mother and my mother, Malenka,
friends since
we were (not) born,
paid each other
visits of courtesy
reciprocally
every weekend, almost.
Through these
courtesy visits
Mackau and I
became acquainted.
Every vacation
I spend half my
vacation at Mackau`s;
next year he do
(does) the same.
We play with
each other,
shower together
sleep in the
same bed.
We’ve been in
love with each other as teenagers.
The feelings
have grown stronger now we’ve grown up.”
“Mackau’s
mother, Kutumbu,
and my mother,
Malenka, always ‘was’, (were) too busy
playing and
touching each other
all the time a
giggle up
fi pay no mind
to what me and Mackau a do.
We do as them
do,
an’ we giggle
an’ laugh reciprocally,
cause mi a
guess dat dem was feeling same as we did a feel.
We a feel good,
we happy,
we look inna di
other’s eyes,
an’ we just
look so long den dis ting jus’ pull we close up,
den next ting
you know
we a kiss up
the other;
den we long
hands dem a move down and up along we back;
up di sides;
we a feel up
each other;
an’ we get real
hard and long,
wid di feelings
dem a madden us;
so we put di
other in we arms;
then we stay
this way all these times.”
“Our father
dem,
never dey
round;
always dem dey
a bush;
gone a town;
pon de hunt;
puffing and a
sip pon dem
‘matta, matta
stick’
or dem
sassperilla juice,
an’ dem a
giggle to;
dem a look pon
de other,
a match up di other;
dem boast dat
dis ya brother,
mi older
brother, Peeku,
or Mackau’s
brother, Wanku,
‘im ‘bout fe go
nuptial wid dat de bigga one daughter,
an’ demma go
get how much cow, goat, hog, root a manioc plants;
den of course
Mackau’s mother
wid more money than my mother,
a fi her
daughter a go marry, Wanku,
she give way di
bigger ‘bride wealth’ as dey call it.
Meantime Peeku
and Wanku
spend time a
run together.
You never see
dem
but dem always
a giggle
and laugh wid
each other.”
“Dem real
popular
as dem a go
marry,
spread de
family over the villages
Den when nobody
nah see
Dem disappear
together.”
“Now them turn
pon Mackau and mi.
Mackau’s
mother, Kutumbu, an’mi mother Malenka,
dem a chat,
chat
den all ‘pon a
sudden
dese cousin
girls from over
yonder,
a come spend
holidays at Malenka’s
and Kutumbu’s
when mi and
Mackau deh together:
Dem a giggle
an’ joke
An’ a push up
at we.”
“We nah show no
interests pon dem;
dem get
worried;
dem face long
and push up;
an’ dem not
talk to Mackau nor mi.
Sudden Mackau
nah spend no holiday wid me;
an’ mi stop go
a fi him for holiday.”
“An’ dis yah a
gwaan and a gwaan
till we couldn’t tek it no more;
me miss Mackau;
‘
an’ him miss
me.”
“Den we fathers
from the village
Come and ask
why we nah mek fi marry wid the cousins dem ‘point fi we?
Den me and
Mackau;
- no figure how
we did it;
who said first,
what, -
we just tell
them we love each other,
an’ we only
want to be wid the other;
no wife;
de feelings for
dat dead.”
“Their was
quiet for long.
My father, and
Mackau’s father
out of shame,
fir a while
wouldn’t lie wid di others.
We mother,
Kutumbu and Malenka
nah spend time
a de other’s place for a while;
an’ dem nah
talk to we.
One day wi
father called Mackau and mi
to the village
square,
all di man dem
a sit ‘round in circle;
dem put wi inna
di middle,
dem quote the
Koran;
den our father
together,
- dat is
Mackau’s father, Piru,
and mi father,
Twe-Twu -
sing out.”
‘We head the
village;
your mother
can’t protect you ‘gainst hurt;
we transport
yeh to the border
from dere
you pon you own.
Go anywhere,
away from dis land,
if you stay
unno a go dead,
an’ may Allah
be great; may Allah be merciful
if unno know
what’s good fir you
di world is
wide, it’s all yours; Go!’
“That’s how we
find our way here.
If I can be
here,
but Mackau
can’t,
den mi a go wid
‘im.
But mi nah stay
from ‘im;
we try Canada
but we can’t go
home;
we sure dey go
dead.”
“Merci beau
coup madams,
messieurs;
we want our
nuts;
no want dem
crack
inna no
nutcracker,
Dat hurts,
MOUSTAFA”
