RETURN TO THE MOTHER COUNTRY
There I am again, tender and dear country,
I come back to you empty handed,
But the heart rich of hope.
I am in a hurry to embrace your beautiful meadows
To tell you that no beauty is worth your wrinkles,
With joy, I will embrace them in my wander.
Farewell my exile times,
And the shadow of nostalgia
Good bye companions
Good day my islands
Long life to the Comoros,
Motherland whose name enchants me
To rejoin her makes my heart cries of joy
My happiness this evening grows
To hear the voices that are dear to me
I think again of the time spent without you
O my tender land!
MAB Elhad, October 1987
1. THE INDIANOMETIS
Calligraphic autoportrait of MAB Elhad
I am the Indian Oceaner
Born under the irenic sign
Of war, I know nothing !
I am not master of the céans
I know nothing of the ironic,
Breaking peace, all else is to be done.
I invented no weapons,
But am victim of their horrors
I who has always loved my neighbor
I suffered to see tears
For conflicts initiated by mistake
Even though by blood, we remain brethren
On our pacific lands, we sowed,
The seeds of Concorde and harmony
And cultivated legitimate and reciproqual respect!
For our well-being, our peoples summoned
The IOC to render real this agreement
Conflicts being the fruits of a misunderstanding!
My wound is not only the misfortune that haunts me,
My wound results from the stains of gone days!
Insecurity and logomachies nourish our fears,
Violated freedoms, broken law, such misdeeds,
Values and morale becoming dead letters!
My pains result from lack of horizon,
Begging is no longer an issue.
Make me fisherman,
I will have my hope as bait!
I am the Indianometis!
I bring you peace,
And take you away from misfortune.
But my dream will remain unachieved,
As long as my culture will continue
To let itself be crushed.
By misery and ignorance!
As long as in the streets, the forsaken children
Will go nourish a society in total deliquescence!
I assert my indianometissage
The mounting troubled wind shakes me,
But I resist…
I am the Indianometis!
Creole speaking, melano-african,
Descendant of the Capricorn,
The difference, cultures that build me,
Beliefs that founded me
A composite world
That sucks from the same nipple
On this sea of the Indies
string of islands that I shell
I put so much hope in your name.
When I hear the spelling of these initials…
I meditate and think of the peoples
Who swear only by her reputation!
I saw who still believe in the terms
Of an active cooperation
Who avoid inaugurating chrysanthemums,
In this garden of initiatives.
I dare still believe in the well-being of a world,
Where would be banished the arbitrary and poverty
It is in this peaceful zone that I found,
My great ambitions of revolted citizen.
I assert this multiple identity,
Which is ours. And if my language is rainbow,
It is to better greet, Indian Ocean mother.
Sea waves of pleasures;
Where the insularity carries in it, abundance and joy.
The Moon’s disc emerges slowly,
Atop the Karthala and its wide open crater.
In a town of the East,
To the opaline reflections.
Here are the minarets from which comes the muezzin’s call,
From old palace collapsing as on a fresco,
From crenulated remparts where ferns grow.
And here is the market, sleeping at this hour,
Not far from the cemetery and the noble residences ;
And here are the narrow lanes of the quarter dominating the bay,
With their madrassats and their frail arcades.
Moroni, arabesque land,
With its hundred detours and its thousand staircases,
Which always lead to our secular mosques!
The moon’s disc salutes the Ocean
Immobile and shinning like a silver plate.
In Kaulu lamwando
CHERISHED FREEDOM !
They shouted me this word, freedom !
And it’s a ring on the boy’s ear,
A car within the hands of puberty,
Freedom, what is your ransom ?
I often believed to be meeting you at the frontiers
Of the forbidden where sometimes doubt took over me.
And I spent days and whole nights
Searching for you, inventing you in my mind
Cherished freedom, of you I fell in love !
I read your name on all hearts
And I heard it sound like a bell
And sometimes even, I saw it shinning at the tip of a torch
Kept by the breath of fear
And yet, to your thought my soul hung on to.
I saw you, sometimes, flying over the sheet
To come and land at the top of the barrel/gun
And knock at the door of a life in mourning
Cherished freedom, you amaze me
I forsaw you in the wonders of the night
I glimpse at you in the meanders of boredom
At my times of distress, you appeared to me.
At your divine letters, Ô freedom, I already believed !
For having seen them illuminating the way
In kaulu lamwando
Voir aussi : ‘’Invitation to a voyage’’ Of Stephen Gray
Protea Book house Edition Nov 2007 Pretoria