mandag 14. september 2015
Warsan Shire ble født i Kenya, av somaliske foreldre, og skriver utrolig vakre dikt om flukt, kjærlighet og identitet. Når jeg ser kommentarfeltene på internett tenker jeg at flere burde lese hennes skildringer av hvordan det oppleves å reise fra hjemlandet sitt, i ren desperasjon.
"Well, I think home spat me out, the blackouts and curfews like tongue against loose tooth. God, do you know how difficult it is, to talk about the day your own city dragged you by the hair, past the old prison, past the school gates, past the burning torsos erected on poles like flags? When I meet others like me I recognise the longing, the missing, the memory of ash on their faces. No one leaves home unless home is the mouth of a shark. I’ve been carrying the old anthem in my mouth for so long that there’s no space for another song, another tongue or another language. I know a shame that shrouds, totally engulfs. I tore up and ate my own passport in an airport hotel. I’m bloated with language I can’t afford to forget.
They ask me how did you get here? Can’t you see it on my body? The Libyan desert red with immigrant bodies, the Gulf of Aden bloated, the city of Rome with no jacket. I hope the journey meant more than miles because all of my children are in the water. I thought the sea was safer than the land. I want to make love but my hair smells of war and running and running. I want to lay down, but these countries are like uncles who touch you when you’re young and asleep. Look at all these borders, foaming at the mouth with bodies broken and desperate. I’m the colour of hot sun on my face, my mother’s remains were never buried. I spent days and nights in the stomach of the truck, I did not come out the same. Sometimes it feels like someone else is wearing my body."
"Your neighbours running faster than you
the boy you went to school with
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory is
holding a gun bigger than his body,
you only leave home when home won’t let you stay.
No one would leave home unless home
chased you, fire under feet,
hot blood in your belly."
"You have to understand,
no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land."
"She knows loss intimately,
carries whole cities in her belly.
As a child, relatives wouldn’t hold her.
She was splintered wood and sea water.
She reminded them of the war."
"He says ‘Boys become men in the laps of women, you know?’
I think of my mothers faced lined with her bad choices in men.
He says ‘If you were mine you wouldn’t get away with this shit, I’d eat you for hours, I’d gut you like fruit.’
I think of my cousins circumcision, how she feels like a mermaid, not human from the waist down.
He says ‘I’d look after you, you know?’
I laugh, I ask for the last time ‘How old?’
He says ’34.’
He says ‘She was beautiful though and I know what you’re thinking but it’s not like that,
I’m a man, I’m a man, I’m a man.
No one could ever hurt me’."
"This is all I know how to do, carry loss around until
I begin to resemble every bad memory
every terrible fear
every nightmare anyone has ever had."
"You can't make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love."
“I’m sorry you were not truly loved and that it made you cruel.”
"You want me to be a tragic backdrop
so that you can appear to be illuminated
so that people can say
‘Wow, isn’t he so terribly brave to love a girl who is so obviously sad?’
You think I’ll be the dark sky so you can be the star?
I’ll swallow you whole."
"To my daughter I will say, when men come, set yourself on fire."
"At parties I point to my body and say: 'This is where love comes to die' "
"Two people who were once very close
can without blame
or grand betrayal
perhaps this is the saddest thing in the world."
"I don't know when love became elusive
what I know, is that no one I know has it
my fathers arms around my mothers neck
fruit too ripe to eat, a door half way open
when your name is a just a hand I can never hold"
"I'm watching all the neighbourhood boys grow taller than their absent fathers."
"Sometimes the things we love
will kill us
but weren’t we dying anyway?"
34 Excuses For Why We Failed At Love:
1. I’m lonely so I do lonely things
2. Loving you was like going to war; I never came back the same.
3. You hate women, just like your father and his father, so it runs in your blood.
4. I was wandering the derelict car park of your heart looking for a ride home.
5. You’re a ghost town I’m too patriotic to leave.
6. I stay because you’re the beginning of the dream I want to remember.
7. I didn’t call him back because he likes his girls voiceless.
8. It’s not that he wants to be a liar; it’s just that he doesn’t know the truth.
9. I couldn’t love you, you were a small war.
10. We covered the smell of loss with jokes.
11. I didn’t want to fail at love like our parents.
12. You made the nomad in me build a house and stay.
13. I’m not a dog.
14. We were trying to prove our blood wrong.
15. I was still lonely so I did even lonelier things.
16. Yes, I’m insecure, but so was my mother and her mother.
17. No, he loves me he just makes me cry a lot.
18. He knows all of my secrets and still wants to kiss me.
19. You were too cruel to love for a long time.
20. It just didn’t work out.
21. My dad walked out one afternoon and never came back.
22. I can’t sleep because I can still taste him in my mouth.
23. I cut him out at the root, he was my favorite tree, rotting, threatening the foundations of my home.
24. The women in my family die waiting.
25. Because I didn’t want to die waiting for you.
26. I had to leave, I felt lonely when he held me.
27. You’re the song I rewind until I know all the words and I feel sick.
28. He sent me a text that said “I love you so bad.”
29. His heart wasn’t as beautiful as his smile
30. We emotionally manipulated one another until we thought it was love.
31. Forgive me, I was lonely so I chose you.
32. I’m a lover without a lover.
33. I’m lovely and lonely.
34. I belong deeply to myself.
tirsdag 8. september 2015
For en måned siden var jeg i København for å se Damien Rice og nyte siste rest av sommerferien min. Konserten og været var helt fantastisk, det var langtur langs kanalene, uteserveringen i Nyhavn, shopping og nydelig tapas, men det har jeg ingen bilder av. I stedet tok jeg alle bildene mine etter klokken 21.00, med promille. Københavnturen bestod med andre ord av mer enn øl og byturer, men det har jeg ikke tatt bilder av, og er det ikke dokumentert er det sannsynlig at det blir glemt. Om ett år vil jeg kanskje huske turen mest slik: