Jumapili ya Damu Blood Sunday

Jumapili ya Damu

I 
 
Midundo ya Reggae
Inarindima hewani
Na kuchanganyika
Na macheo
 
Katika jiji
Vioo, madirisha
Na milango
Inasalimu amri
Kutoka kumbo kali
Za wenye njaa
Na matarajio
Ya miongo miwili.
 
Ndani ya maduka
Mawimbi ya watu
Yanapaa, kushuka
Na kupanda kwingineko
Huku rafu na kuta
Zikibadilika sura
Kama tanzu za miti
Kiangazi kinapojiri.
 
Vifaa vya kila ukoo
Nguo za kila rangi
Zinaketi vichwani
Kuninginia mikononi
Kulala migongoni
Au kubanwa kwapani
Zikibadili makazi
Na umiliki.
 
II
 
Risasi
Zinaanza kupiga miluzi
Na kwa ghadhabu
Kushtua kuta
Milingoti ya stima
Magari ya rangirangi
Na nyama na mifupa
 
Watu wanaterereka
Damu inatiririka
Uhai unaporomoka
 
III
 
Ghafla
Midundo ya Reggae
Inakauka
Na nyimbo za jana
Kurudi angani
Kama uvundo ambao
Umevamia pua tena
Baada ya kuangushwa
Na kumbo la upepo
 
Kutoka mwangu jikoni
Barabara ni dhahiri-
Magari ya rangirangi
Vifaru vya madoadoa
Vinatiririka kama mto,
Bunduki zinalenga kushoto
Kulia, nyuma na mbele
Nayo mizinga hatari
Inatega mbingu;
Huu mtiririko
Ni safari ya marejeo
Anarejea mungu-wa-kinamo
Kwenye ulingo.
 
IV
 
Katika fahamu
Mawazo mbalimbali
Yanapita kwa zamu
Kama vipepeo na nondo
Wakipita kwa makundi
Mbele ya macho;
Kwa tabasamu
Nakumbuka Obasanjo
Na uamuzi wake angavu
Bali pia
Kwa huzuni
Nakumbuka Bokassa na Amin,
Na Mobutu na Doe,
Na damu na mafuvu
Matita ya mafuvu!
Magurudumu ya mawazo
Yanafikia njia panda
Na kwa muda, kukwama
Kabla ya kuanza safari tena
Kwenye njia wazi
Ya serikali ya kiraia
 
Hata inapoongozwa
Na genge la mazimwi
 

Blood Sunday

I
 
The reggae beat
Roars through the air
Fusing
With the sunrise.
 
In the village
Mirrors, windows
And doors
Greet the commands
Borne of devastation
Of two decades
Of hunger
And longing.
 
Inside the shops
Waves of people
Rise and fall
And rise again.
These shelves and walls
Change faces
Like the leaves of trees
In the hot season.
 
Family belongings
Clothes of all colours
Balance on heads
Swing from hands
Rest on backs
Gripped under arms
Changing their dwellings
And rulers.
 
II
 
Bullets
Start to whistle
 
Furiously
Slam into walls,
Telegraph poles
Cars of all colours
Meat and bones.
 
People stagger
Blood spills
Life slips away.
 
III
 
Suddenly
The reggae beat
Fades
And yesterday's anthems
Resound
Like the stench
Of paradise destroyed
Reinvading the nose.
 
The road is visible
From my kitchen window
Cars of many colours
Camoflaged tanks
Move like a river
Guns trained to the left and right
Ahead and behind
Lethal machine guns
Are erected in the sky.
This movement is a replay -
The god of expedience
Is back on the watchtower.
 
IV
 
Many thoughts
Flit through the mind
like butterflies and moths.
Smiling
I remember Obasanjo
And his clever move.
But with sorrow
I recall Bokassa and Amin
Mobutu and Doe.
Blood and skulls.
So many skulls!
Thoughts wheel around
Reach a crossroad
And get bogged down.
Even though they are
Guided by ghosts
They start the journey again
On the empty roads
Of the government.
 

Blood Sunday

I 
 
Beats of Reggae
Roar/rumble in the air
And get mixed
With sunrise
 
In the village
Mirrors, windows
And doors
Greet the command/order
From the hard destruction
Of the hungry ones
And expectations
Of two decades.
 
Inside the shops
Waves of people
Rise, go down
And get up elsewhere
These shelves and walls
Change faces
Like branches of trees
When the hot season takes place.
 
Tools/gadgets of each family
Clothes of each colour
Take seat in the heads
Hang in the hands
Sleep on the backs
Or are pressed in the armpit
Changing dwelling/place
And reign/authority.
 
II
 
Bullets
Start to whistle
 
And angrily
Dislocate/move suddenly the walls
Electric poles
Multicoloured cars
And meat and bones
 
People stagger
Blood flows/drips
Life slips down/glides
 
III
 
Suddenly
Beats of Reggae
Dry up
And songs of yesterday
Return in the air
Like stink that
Invades the nose again
After being brought down
By the destruction of heaven
 
From my kitchen
The road is clear/evident -
Multicoloured cars
Military tanks with blemishes/spots
Flow/trickle like a river,
Guns point to the left
On the right, in the back and front
(With) dangerous machine guns
Are set ready/are prepared in the sky;
This flow/trickling
Is a return trip
God-of-flexibility returns
On the platform [of the watchman guarding a field].
 
IV
 
In the understanding
Different/all kinds of thoughts
Go past/pass by in turns
Like butterflies and moths
Passsing by in groups
In front of the eyes;
 
Smiling
I remember Obasanjo[1]
And his clear/clever decision/verdict
But also
With sorrow
I remember Bokassa[2] na Amin,
And Mobutu and Doe[3],
And blood and skulls
A lot of skulls!
Wheels of thoughts
Reach a crossroad
And with time, get stuck
Before starting the journey again
In the clear/open road
Of the national government
 
Even when they are guided
By group of spirits/ghosts
 
[1] Olusegun Obasanjo, army general and former president of Nigeria
 
[2]  Jean-Bédel Bokassa, military officer and former head of state of the Central African Republic and its successor state, the Central African Empire
 
[3]  Samuel Doe, former president of Liberia
 

Original Poem by

Kithaka wa Mberia

Translated by

Katriina Ranne with The Poetry Translation Workshop Language

Swahili

Country

Kenya