After Binyavanga Wainaina
the sand has never been red where i am from
noone has glanced at rii and been reminded of the dayax
crescent or hide bore holes aren’t called bore holes they are just ceelal we are creating
worlds when we make tawaf waxaan abuurayna aduunyo markaan dawaafno
people lose their religiosity the same way they lose teeth with some pain but they’re glad to be over with it
we don’t pray on top of corpses corpses aren’t corpses bodies – sure , but we do not make them in (elegant) , we don’t make death masks
ma qaylino (waan qayliyaa)
we don’t obsess over death , we don’t wail (i wail) , our burials are (mostly silent)
they just are:
My grandfather well the sand swallowed him , it was shockingly not-red
awoowgay ciida lagu aasay
which was a shock to noone , i hoped it would flip orientalist
ciida ma guduudanin, dartiisa ma isku dhaawac’in
momentarily , that the sand would also wound itself for him , to mark his passing ciida ma guduudanin, dartiisa ma isku dhaawac’in
dhibic roob ma da’in roobo oo nimco ah
it didn’t even rain , rain as blessings
how i longed to be there to bury him in nimco , a plastic water bottle on , his gravesite not grave , just land that , for a moment , was a site and then wasn’t
(portion not for the white gaze)
plastic is sacred too, in a place where things are not meant to last it was like you weren’t there at all
ugu yaraan caag aan kugu aaso
let me bury you at least with plastic , to be made treasure
to be stolen , to be placed in a museum
oo dalkeeno ku celino
later for some descendant to come across it , and take it back home , plastic and mechanisms of colonization as wayfinding
as path making , as conversation or fluke creating
as your eyes a whole swallowed star
sida indhahaaga xiddig dhan oo la laqay
white as canvas before i destroy it white as white as
dhuuxee dhasha geela (this is the sight the elders sob to) , there are no oldworlds to return to , only new ones we swallow
Published December 4, 2020
© Asmaa Jama, 2020
Afrika waa dhulka fidsan oo banaan
Written in English by Asmaa Jama
Translated into Somali by by Asmaa Jama and Faduma Farah
Kadib Binyavanga Wainaina
camudda weligeed ma casaan meeshaan ka imid
qofna ma eegin ri oo ka xasuusiye dayax
dashay godadkay dhaheen waa godad
waa uun ceelal waxaan abuurayna aduunyo markaan dawaafno
dadkanu waxay lumiyaan wadaadnimada sida ilka ka dhacay , waa dhawac oo mar uun ka dhammanayo
kama barakaysano meydkeena , meydkana meyd ma ahan , waa dadkeenii tagay oo uma baroorano (waan baroortaa)
aaskeenu waa: (aamusnaan)
waa uun
awoowgay, ciidaa liqday mana u guduudanin dartiisna isku ma dhaawcin mana dakhramin
dhibic roob ma da’in roobo oo nimco ah haa iloobin
ma ka soo harin calaamad inuu cirka feyday , sidaan u rabay inaa joogo aaskaagi , nimco kugu aaso
caag biyihii barakaysnaa aan qabrigaaga saaro
qabri , aan qabur ahayn , kaliya dhul
mar goob ahaa ka dibna ahayn
(qaybta qurbaha)
balaastiguna waa muqadis, meel waxba baaqi ahayn haday waxba kaa harin, maba joogteen?
ugu yaraan caag aan kugu aaso ha noqoto hantidaada , oo la xado, , madxafka la meeleeyo
hadhow, warasadaadu garato , oo dalkeena ku celiso , blaastik iyo farsamooyinkii gumaysiga noqday marin helin
iyo waddo helid , iyo wada hadal iyo biti abuure , iyo indhahaaga xiddig dhan oo la laqay
cadaanti shiraac intaan burburin cadaanti
dhuuxa dhasha geela (aragtidaan duqiyaashi ka qaransiiya) ma jiraan aduunyidii hore oo lagu soo noqdo keliya kuwa cusub ee aanu laqno
Published December 4, 2020
© Asmaa Jama and Faduma Farah, 2020
Afrika ni Uwanda Mpana Usiokuwa na Kitu
Written in English by Asmaa Jama
Translated into Swahili by Kimani Njogu
Baada ya Binyavanga Wainaina
mchanga haujawahi kuwa mwekundu nilikotoka
hakuna aliyetazama mbuzi na akakumbuka mwezi
halali au jifiche visima haviitwi visima
vinaitwa visima tu unaunda dunia tunapoandaa tawaf
watu hupoteza dini yao kama wapotezavyo meno yao wanapata uchungu lakini wanafurahi kuachana nayo
hatuabudu juu ya maiti maiti si maiti miili – ndio
lakini hatuifanyi isi(pendeze), hatutengenezi barakoa za kifo
hatupigi mayowe (ninapiga mayowe)
hatuhangaishwi na kifo hatupigi mayowe (napiga mayowe) mazishi yetu ni
(zaidi ni ya kimya)
wao ni tu:
babu yangu mchanga ulimmeza ilishangaza haukuwa mwekundu
na haikumshangaza yeyote
haikumshangaza yeyote nilitamani ingegeuka matlai
mchanga haukugeuka kuwa mwekundu kwa ajili yake, haukujifunga kwa ajili yake
kwa muda mfupi kwamba mchanga ungejifunga kwa ajili yake
kuashiria kupita kwake, mchanga haukupata wekundu kwa ajili yake haukujifunga kwa ajili yake haukujifunga kwa ajili yake
manyunyu ya mvua hayakuanguka hakukunyesha mvua kama baraka
nilitamani sana kuwa hapo kumzika katika nimco chupa ya maji ya plastiki katika kaburi yake si kaburi ni ardhi ambayo
kwa muda ilikuwa makao na halafu haikuwa
(sehemu hii si ya Wazungu)
plastiki pia ni takatifu katika mahali vitu havitarajiwi kudumu ni kama
hukuwepo kamwe
acha nikuzike angalau na plastiki ufanywe hazina
ya kuibwa ya kuwekwa kwenye makumbusho
na baadaye vizazi vijavyo viione na kuirudishwa nchini mwetu
plastiki na michakato ya ukoloni kama utafutaji njia
kama utengenezaji njia kama mazungumzo au utengenezaji zumari
kama macho yako ni nyota iliyomezwa
nyeupe kama turubai
kabla sijaiharibu nyeupe kama nyeupe kama
uboho wa ngamia aliyejifungua (huu ndio upeo unaowaliza wazee)
hakuna ardhi ya awali ya kurejelea ila ardhi mpya tunazozimeza
Published December 4, 2020
© Asmaa Jama, 2020
© Kimani Njogu, 2020
Other
Languages
Africa is the Land of Wide Empty Spaces is one of the five texts shortlisted for “To Speak Europe in Different Languages: Hybrid and Collective Writing Competition.” The prize, which was awarded during Babel Festival 2020 in Bellinzona, Switzerland, went to Desta Haile for her York to Teheran. (More on the prize and the winner.)
Africa is the Land of Wide Empty Spaces was written as part of a project called Camel Meat and Cassette Tapes, an intergenerational project with the Somali elders of Bristol. During this project, myself, Ayan Cilmi and Fozia Ismail, collaborated with the elders to learn more about the cassette tapes the diaspora used to use to keep in touch with family members back home.
As we co-created more with them, it became clear that the elders were of course themselves and human and fallible, but also represented whole archives of knowings that stretched beyond themselves.
This text I wrote in response to that, is about us, the Somali diaspora living in the UK, the orality of Somalis, and the gaps that we are faced with as we try and connect, with each, older generations, those back ‘home’ and the intangible sense of ‘homeland’. The theme of archives emerged after we worked within those colonial institutions.
It is written in both English and Somali. Some of the portions in Somali are quotes or words and phrases that stuck with me from interviews with the elders we worked with. It is also, in two different dialects of Somali, both those spoken in Somaliland, and the one spoken in Somalia. As translator in the project, watching the elders reach across dialects + languages was humbling. We made meaning and found ways to understand each other, utilising the internet or bringing in physical examples.
Thanks to Fozia Ismail, Ayan Cilmi and the Somali elders of Bristol. And special thanks to Arnolfini, where this project was commissioned for Camel Meat and Cassette Tapes.
– Asmaa Jama
Your
Tools
