Marshall Islands

The Marshall Islands—or the Republic of the Marshall Islands—gained independence from the USA in 1986. While independence came on 21 October of that year, on 1 May they celebrate their Constitution Day.

The islands were first seen by the Spanish in the 16th century, though it was with the arrival of their namesake, the British Captain John Marshall, that the islands were really, so to speak, put on the map.

Like a lot of colonial nations, the islands changed hands a few times before they became independence—first the were a protectorate of German New Guinea after a German trading company settled on the islands; in World War I the Japanese conquered the islands, administering them until, in World War II, the US invaded and occurring the islands and came under US protection. Though independence wasn’t formalised until 1986, self-government took effect in 1979.

The nation consists of 29 atolls and 5 islands. The US still provides government assistance, which is important to the Marshallese economy. Important commercial crops on the islands are coconuts, tomatoes, melons and breadfruit. English is an official language of the nation, but Marshallese is the language predominantly used in the country.

I couldn’t find a poem from or about the Marshall Islands in all my searches. What I have to offer instead is a Marshallese creation myth—I find it fascinating. The story was told by Litarjikût Habua and interpreted by Jetnil Felix, at Mâjro in 1951. I got to the story online here.


Story of the Heaven Post Men

There were four men: Lajibwinâmôn, Lokomraan, Lorok and Irook Ralik. They made heaven posts by standing up and holding heaven. They stood up all the time to keep heaven from falling. Lajibwinamon is the north post, Lokomraan is the east post, Lorok is the south post, and Irooj Ralik is the west post.

The north post man eats people. The east post an makes light. Lorok supplies food for the world. And Irooj Ralik made the irooj bwij. The north man fell down and went to sleep to the north. The man in the east got tired and went to sleep and fell to the east. Lorok fell south. Irooj Ralik fell to the west.

These men had power before but did not use it. They were too busy holding up the sky. When they fell down they used their power.

The morth man used his power to make people die. (There had been no death before this.) “Kol e”: he used his power to kill (by his voice). He swallowed by the power. People’s bodies came into his mouth when he made a sound: “I want to a man to eat!” A man would come and he would eat him. (Marshallese would not move a sick person to the north. To the south it was all right. Also to the east and west it was all right. This is still done.)

Lokomraan: his work was to make light, the day. He wanted to help Lorok, to make light so that Lorok would make food for the people. If Lokomraan had not made light, Lorok would not have time to make food.

Lorok had to make food twice a year: iien rak: rak ma; anonean: bob and makmak.

Irooj Ralik was the first irooj. He made the bwij or irooj. Lorok and Lokomraan made ekkan to him. They gave him everything: days and food.

Irook Ralik stayed at Ep, an underworld place. (Some people say that Ep is in the Palau Islands. I say that it is not.)

There are still north, east, south and west. Light and food. People die. And there are irooj now.

These four men: three agreed to world together, but Lajibwinamon was against the others. He killed people, caused sin, and so forth (like Satan). The three agreed to help people to live well and happily—to learn and so forth. It is not clear to me how Irooj Ralik started the irooj bwij.

Marshallese terms:
irooj bwij: lineage or clan
iien rak: summer
rak ma: breadfruit time
anonean: winter
bob: pandanus
makmak: arrowroot
ekkan: tribute of food and other goods.


from the book Stories from the Marshall Islands: Bwebwenato Jan Aelon Kein

South Africa

27 April in South Africa is Freedom Day. This day commemorates the first democratic post-apartheid elections, held in 1994, that saw Nelson Mandela elected president.

I feel that among African nations, South Africa is one of the best known in the Western world. Alongside South Africa, I’d also place the countries along the top end of Africa, particularly the “corner” countries of Egypt and Morocco. This has me wondering whether there’s a general “Heart of Darkness” syndrome, whereby most people can’t fathom the journey beyond the edges. When we hear about most African nations it’s in relation to human rights abuses, wars, election fraud, coup d’etats… South Africa lives in memory as the country that only ended apartheid as recently as fourteen years ago. I remember Nelson Mandela’s release in 1990 after 27 years in prison, though I was quite young at the time.

Because of the importance of the Cape Sea route, South Africa experienced early immigration from Europe—the Dutch East India Company founded a station in what would become Cape Town in 1652. The evidence of immigration to the country is evident today, with the largest Caucasian, Indian and mixed communities in Africa. Obviously race and racial strife has been a huge part of South African history, especially with the institution of apartheid in 1948.

Independence came in 1910, eight years after the Second Boer War. In 1961—after a referendum that was whites-only—the country became a republic, leaving the British Commonwealth. The end to apartheid, though, seems a more important step in the nations history, moving toward, on would hope, and attempt at reconciliation.

Today’s poem is by Dennis Brutus, who was born in what was then Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) but raised in South Africa. Brutus was imprisoned during apartheid at Robbin Island, the same place of incarceration as Nelson Mandela. During his time in prison, Brutus had to split rocks—the pebbles left at the end of this process were strewn over the floor of his cell, to illustrate the futility of the exercise.



Under House Arrest

For Daantjie—on a New Coin envelope


On a Saturday afternoon in summer
greyly through net curtains I see
planes on planes in blocks of concrete masonry
where the biscuit factory blanks out the sky

Cézanne clawing agonisedly at the physical world
wrested from such super-imposed masses
a new and plangent vocabulary
evoking tensions, spatial forms and pressures
almost tactile on the eyeballs,
palpable on the fingertips,
and from these screaming tensions wrenched
new harmonies, the apple’s equipoise
the immobility of deadlocked conflicts
—the cramp, paralyses—more rich
than any rest, repose.

— Dennis Brutus
From Against Forgetting, edited Carolyn Forché

Sierra Leone

Sierra Leone gained its independence from the United Kingdom on 27 April 1961 when the British Crown Colony of Freetown (the capital of the country) and the interior of the country—then a British Protectorate—combined and declared their independence from British rule. In 1971 the country because a republic. More recently, a decade-long civil war was fought in the country from 1991 until 2002 when the United Nations (led by Britain) defeated rebel forces, establishing a civilian government. Since then, functionary democracy has been reinstated in the country, and many former combatants have since disarmed. Prior to the reinstatement of civilian government, Sierra Leone was subject to a number of coups and attempted coups.

Sierra Leone was first visited by Europeans in 1462 (the Portuguese) and became a centre of the slave trade. In 1808 it fell under British rule.

Since the end of the civil war Sierra Leone has shown signs on a successful transition to democratic rule. Environmentaly, Sierra Leone suffers from the effect of deforestation—much of the rain forest has been cleared for alternative land use. Sierra Leone was also one of the settings for the recent film Blood Diamond, about the trade in conflict diamonds. (Mining, and especially diamonds have been an economic base for the country.) These diamonds, mined in war zones, are sold to finance an insurgency.

Today’s poem is by the poet Syl Cheney-Coker, who was born in Freetown. This poem comes from the book The New African Poetry: An Anthology, edited by Tanure Ojaide and Tijan M Sallah.

Dead Eyes

In the tavern where I slept last night
I went there to forget my bad luck
of a country sinking into neglect

now I am awake, and pulling up my pants
from desire, I say I cannot go back
I have lived so little on remembrance
lived so little on rain, knowing
I have lived so little on my country!

And it is enough that they do not know how it hurts
that in the blue waters of the country they have poisoned
the gentle dugongs with the toxic power of their greed
but what can they preserve of that country for me
now that the desire to be man among the scorpions keeps me awake
thinking about the tattered history books
the desert which has eaten the heart of the savannah
so that every day Freetown is treacherously poised
above the bay where the capsized canoes
have the hang-dog look of a humanity that has died
Freetown from where they every day sail on their uncertain course
as if God had cursed this country shaped like a heart
but without the beauty of a peaceful heart

In the last flicker of your light
let me see the men who are lining
up
to cut up your heart.

—Syl Cheney-Coker

Togo

Togo—officially the Togolese Republic—gained its independence from France on 27 April 1960. In 1963 Sergeant Etienne Eyadema Gnassingbe he led a military coup which brought about the assassination of then-leader Sylvanus Olympio. Following this Nicolas Grunitzky assumed the presidency, but another coup in 1967, again led by Gnassingbe, led to his being deposed, and from 1967 until his death in 2005 Togo was under the dictatorship of Gnassingbe. Since then his son Faure Gnassingbe has assumed power, altering the constitution to allow for his succession to rule and delaying elections.

Prior to European contact in the fifteenth century, there isn’t much history of the region—tribes entered from all directions (Togo is a narrow wedge of land bordered by Ghana, Benin and Burkina Faso) and most of these settled in coastal regions. From the sixteenth to the eighteenth century the region was a major raiding centre for the slave trade.

In 1884 Togo became a protectorate of Germany, but after the German defeat of World War I, Togo came under the administration of the United Kingdom and France. In 1960, residents of British Togoland voted to become part of the newly independent nation of Ghana, and French Togoland became a republic.

Under the Gnassingbe dictatorships Togo has had a record of human rights violations; environmentally, Togo has seen widespread deforestation.

Today’s poem was written by Togolese poet Kwami Nyamidie. I found it online here.


As above, so below


My eyes are fixed on things on high
on mysteries of galaxies and nebulae
on planets guiding my steps below.
My eyes are fixed on Hale-Bopp
A comet Pharaohs saw
When they built their pyramids.

Like Cheops I, too, am building a pyramid.
An inner one, but still a pyramid,
A great and awesome monument
As I look inside the vast untapped
Resources trapped and buried
In the soul of my soul.

I look up in awe and wonder
And I see within and below the mystery
That I am, the mystery of mud
Transforming itself daily, slowly into gold;
The mystery of the edifice I construct
Painfully and surely with each stone
Of life's experience.

—Kwami Nyamidie
March 24, 1997.

England

Like the other countries that constitute the United Kingdom, England doesn’t have an independence day, so instead I’m using St George’s Day, St George being the patron saint of England. I get the impression that of the four patron saints for England, Ireland, Scotland and Wale, the celebration of St George’s Day is the one that is least celebrated within its nation, but it’s all I’ve got, unless I were to go with the Queen’s Birthday, which is celebrated all over the United Kingdom. I like, however, using the patron saints days, and so 23 April is the day on which I celebrate all things English. (Scones. High tea. The Famous Five. Sandwiches. Wallace and Gromit. Dr Who.)

England has been inhabited for at least 13,000 years—it was the last area of the British Isles to be populated. Famously the Romans invaded Britain—Julius Caesar was the first to take a stab at it in 55 BCE, but it was nearly a hundred years later under Claudius that the more successful conquest took place. (It appears that the Goon Show may have been erroneous in depicting the reaction of the English on this occasion. It appears to be apocryphal that the English thought the Romans had arrived to play soccer.)

Following the departure of the Romans, the Anglo-Saxons were in charge, and it appears the country was divided into seven “petty kingdoms.” (I previously hadn’t heard the term petty kingdom: an “independent realm recognizing no suzerain and controlling only a portion of the territory held by a particular ethnic group or nation.” Thankyou online encyclopaedias and dictionaries. And I love the word “suzerain.”) In 927, King Athelstan brought the whole nation under a single ruler. And England as an Anglo-Saxon place was proceeding swimmingly until those pesky Normans showed up. “1066 and all that.”

It’s odd for me to try to condense any of British history—I feel that, as an Australian, I grew up with more British history than any other kind (including, on balance, Australian). So: Battle of Hastings. War of the Roses. The Princes in the Tower. Shakespeare and Queen Bess. Charles I beheaded. Oliver Cromwell. House of Commons and House of Lords. The formation of Great Britain in 1707. And, of course the most important thing, the BBC.

Though this is an overall British fact—or in fact a Manxman fact—I’ll throw it in here. Queen Elizabeth II is the head of state of the Isle of Mann, where she also holds the official title of “Lord of Mann.”

Today’s poem is by Ted Hughes. Feminists, please don’t throw anything at me. I love Sylvia, but I also love Ted Hughes’s poetry. And of course there’s so much Ted Hughes to choose from. I thought of “The Thought-Fox,” but so did every other anthologist ever. (I appear, in the midst of this, to suddenly feel like an anthologist, the way I pour over every resource offering contemporary poems in translation…) I decided to go with one of Hughes’s animals. So: “Hawk Roosting.” And it’s nice to use a major English-language poet every so often, because I can find their work online.


Hawk Roosting

I sit in the top of the wood, my eyes closed.
Inaction, no falsifying dream
Between my hooked head and hooked feet:
Or in sleep rehearse perfect kills and eat.

The convenience of the high trees!
The air's buoyancy and the sun's ray
Are of advantage to me;
And the earth's face upward for my inspection.

My feet are locked upon the rough bark.
It took the whole of Creation
To produce my foot, my each feather:
Now I hold Creation in my foot

Or fly up, and revolve it all slowly -
I kill where I please because it is all mine.
There is no sophistry in my body:
My manners are tearing off heads -

The allotment of death.
For the one path of my flight is direct
Through the bones of the living.
No arguments assert my right:

The sun is behind me.
Nothing has changed since I began.
My eye has permitted no change.
I am going to keep things like this.


—Ted Hughes

Zimbabwe

It’s troubling to write about Zimbabwe now, when the election is still, several weeks on, all up in the air. I was recently listening to a correspondent’s report from the region who said that at polling places, people were putting up impromptu pieces of paper and recording their votes outside, so there was a popular exit-poll. Delays on official reporting, supreme court decisions, and in the last 24 hours, the first public speech from Mugabe since the elections denouncing the opposition. I’m interest to read today that dock workers in South Africa are refusing to upload a shipment of arms from China destined for Zimbabwe. There is uneasiness all around.

That said, independence is the reason we’re here: Zimbabwe first declared independence from the United Kingdom as Rhodesia on 11 November, 1965—however, the independence they celebrate is their reemergence as Zimbabwe on 18 April, 1980.

The British arrived in Zimbabwe in the 1880s—with Cecil Rhodes’ British South Africa Company. (Cecil Rhodes himself is a troubling figure…) When independence was declared, during the period that colonial rule was ending all over Africa, the white-minority government declared independence from the UK. This regime declared itself a republic in 1970, though it wasn’t recognised by Britain or any other state, but (then white-led) South Africa. A civil war ensued from this period, in which Mugabe and ZANU (as well as Joshua Nkomo’s ZAPU) played key roles.

Given this situation, the 18 April independence day is the more meaningful, as the country gained independence that was recognised internationally, as well as its new name, new flag and new government. The first president was Canaan Banana, with Mugabe as Prime Minister. After a 1987 constitutional amendment that abolished the office of Prime Minister, on 1 January 1988, Mugabe became President of Zimbabwe. From 2000 Mugabe began an effort to redistribute land from white holders to Africans, a process whose legality has been repeatedly questioned from within Zimbabwe and from without. In 2002 Zimbabwe was suspended from the Commonwealth of Nations on charges of human rights abuses and election tampering.

On the human rights fronts, there have been reports that the goernment of Zimbabwe violates the rights to shelter, food, freedom of movement and residence, freedom of assembly and protection of the law. There are assaults on the media, the political opposition, civil activists and human rights defenders. The life expectancy, as of a 2006 report, is the lowest in the world. An estimated quarter of the population (3.4 million) have fled Zimbabwe as refugees, mostly to neighbouring South Africa. A further 570,000 people are internally displaced.

All this serves to illustrate that independence and its aftermath is an ongoing process. If you need any further illustration of this, I recommend Ryszard Kapuściński’s writings—he witnessed 27 coups and revolutions during his time as a reporter covering Africa, the Middle East and South America.

Today's poem is by Chenjerai Hove - I found it on at Poetry International Web, a resource that has poems from several different countries.


A Poem for Zimbabwe

i am the only one
you are the only one.

the birds and the rivers
sing to me,
they speak in your voice.

if i fall silent
you will be silent too.
if i fall silent
your wounds will be named silence.

i am a piece of you
and you are a piece of me.

the blood in my veins is you.
listen to the rhythm
of the stream of my blood
and the echoes from the hills,
mixed with gentle ripples
of the waters in the fast stream.

but with time
you will hear your voice
in the blue skies of my heart.

in the dark clouds of my soul
you will hear a voice
that tells the story of your forgotten voices
of birds long dead
of elephants crippled by guns
of orphans you do not deserve.



—Chenjerai Hove
From Poetry International Web

Syria

Though Syria has been inhabited since the fourth millennium BC, the modern state gained its independence from France on 17 April, 1946—10 years after independence was first declared. The country is bordered (for those a little hazy on the exact placement of Middle Eastern nations within the region) by Lebanon, Israel, Jordan, Iraq and Turkey.

A lot of different people have occupied areas of Syria during its history—the Canaanites, Phoenicians, Arameans, Hebrews, Egyptians, Sumerians, Assyrians, Babylonians, Hittites… when I get into the countries of the Middle East I find the history somewhat dizzying. Most people will know of Damascus in relation to the story of Saul’s conversion (into Paul) on the road to Damascus, and I expect most have heard of the city of Antioch, which was the capital of Syria during the Roman period. After the periods of Hebraic and Christian influence in the region, Syrian was conquered by Arabs in the 7th century.

It was only in the 20th century that Syria existed under French mandate—in 1920 an independent Arab Kingdom under the Hashemite family was established, but this rule ended within a few months, following the Battle of Maysalun. Following this, the League of Nations put Syria under French control. In 1936 a treaty of independence was negotiated, but didn’t come into effect because the French refused to ratify it. Syria proclaimed its independence again in 1941, and in 1944 it was recognised as an independent nation—but the French remained until 17 April 1946 when British pressure forced the French to evacuate.

Independence didn’t bring automatic stability to the country—in the decade after independence Syria had 20 different cabinets and drafted four constitutions. In 1948, Syria intervened on the side of the Palenstinians in the Arab-Israeli War. In 1956, during the Suez Crisis, martial law was declared in Syria.

Between 1970 and 2000, Syria was ruled by Hafez al-Assad—an authoritarian regime. Syria continued to be involved in many conflicts in the region. In 1990, Syria participated in the US led coalition against Saddam Hussein, which was significant to Syria’s relationship with both the Arab and the Western “worlds.” Following the death of al-Assad (after an amendment to the constitution reducing the minimum age for President from 40 to 34) al-Assad’s (presumably 34-year-old) son Bashar became President.

The Euphrates river crosses the country in the east, and most people live in the Euphrates River valley and along the coastal plain, rather than in the desert areas.

Today’s poem is another from the anthology A Crack in the Wall: New Arab Poetry.


Names

We seemed like willow trees
our shirts woven with tales.
Suddenly we found our way into
the black frames of the dead,
exchanged places with them
and with the coldness of the glass.
The tales died too
and our blue names turned yellow.


—Mohammad Afif al-Hussainy
translated from the Arabic by by Noel Abdulahad
from: A Crack in the Wall: New Arab Poetry

Senegal

The Republic of Senegal declared its independence from France on 4 April 1960. The region of Senegal was inhabited during ancient times, and the eastern part of the country was once part of the Empire of Ghana.

In the 11th century Islam, the dominant religion in the country, came to Senegal, before European nations (Portugal, the Netherlands and Britain) began to vie for its trade until the French took possession of the island of Gorée in 1677—the departure point for millions of West Africans during the period of the slave trade. In the 1850s, the French began to expand their foothold onto the Senegalese mainland.

In 1959, the country merged with what was then known as the French Sudan, forming the Mali Federation, which became fully independent on 20 June in 1960, following France’s agreement on 4 April to transfer power. After internal political difficulties the Federation dissolved, and the separate countries of Senegal and Mali emerged. Today’s poet, Léopold Senghor, was elected Senegal’s first president in September 1960. In 1962 there was an attempted coup, which was successfully put down. Senghor retired from politics in 1981, handing power over to Abdou Diouf. Diouf acted as president from 1981 until 2000. The current president is Abdoulaye Wade. In the south of the nation there is a violent separatist movement—Wade announced in 2004 that he would sign a peace treaty with this group, but there hasn’t year been a resolution.


I am Alone

I am alone in the plains
And in the night
With trees curled up from the cold
And holding tight, elbow to body, one to the other.

I am alone in the plains
And in the night
With the hopeless pathetic movements of trees
That have lost their leaves to other islands.

I am alone in the plains
And in the night.
I am the solitude of telegraph poles
Along deserted
Roads.


— Leopold Sedar Senghor
Translated from the French by Melvin Dixon
From The Vintage Book of Contemporary World Poetry

Iran

1 April is Iran’s Islamic Republic Day: the country’s name is official the Islamic Republic of Iran (in Farsi I believe this is written جمهوری اسلامی ايران though I’m trusting to other people’s advice on that one, much as I would love to be able to read and write Farsi). Until 1935 the country was known as Persia. Iran is bounded by the Gulf of Oman and the Persian Gulf. The name “Iran” means “Land of Aryans.” An alternative name for the country in Persian literature—and in the Iranian media—is “Land of Kindness.” Iran is home to one of the world’s oldest continuous civilizations.

The twentieth century saw a number of changes in Iran—after an overthrow of the Qajar Dynasty in 1921, the country was then invaded during World War II (in 1941) by Britain and Russia. The Shah at this time, who had some ties to Germany, and was forced to abdicate in favour of his son. Following the 1951 election of Dr Mohammed Mossadegh as Prime Minister of Iran, and his nationalization of Iran’s oil reserves, US President Eisenhower authorized Operation Ajax, a plan to depose the Prime Minister, leading to Mossadegh’s arrest in 1953. With American support, the Shah was able to modernize the country, but he also disallowed political dissension. As a result, Khomeini became an active critic of the Shah and, following an 18 month imprisonment, was sent into exile.

1978 saw the Iranian Revolution, which is also known as the Islamic Revolution: in January of 1979, the Shah fled the country, and Ayatollah Khomeini returned from exile. On 1 April 1979, Iran officially became an Islamic Republic following a national referendum in support of the move.

The Iranian revolution led to a deterioration of Iran’s relationship with the United States, especially as a result of the Iranian hostage crisis, when in November 1979 a group of Iranian students seized US embassy personnel, an action Khomeini supported after the fact. Fifty-two of these hostages were held for 444, released on 19 January 1981 with the Algiers declaration.

During the 1980s, Iran was at war with Iraq for several years, until in 1988 Khomeini accepted a truce mediated by the United Nations, after the dead of more than 100,000 Iranians as a result of Iraq’s use of chemical weapons, and the death of several hundred thousand more as a result of the conflict.

Iran has a diverse population, made up of several ethnic groups; the country also hosts one of the world’s largest refugee populations—more than one million. This group is largely from Afghanistan and Iraq.

The country is noted for significant human rights violations, including the persecution of the religious minority Bahá'ís.

Today’s poem is by the poet Simin Behbahani, and is taken from the amazing new Norton Anthology of Asian poetries, Language for a New Century. She was born in Tehran in 1927, and was nominated for the Nobel Prize in 1997. The subject matter fits this project perfectly, I think.

Homeland, Once More, I’ll Build You

To the lady of Persian storytelling, Simin Daneshvar

Homeland, once more, I’ll build you,
If needed, with brick made from my life.
Once more, I’ll support your ceilings,
If needed, with columns made from my bones.
Once more, I’ll seek in your flowers
The perfumes of a new generation.
Once more, I’ll cleanse your body of bloodstains
If needed, with my tears.
Once more, one shining day, darkness will leave this house.
Once more, I’ll paint my poems blue,
Reflecting the colors of your sky.
Once more, he will raise me, like a glorious mountain,
The Judge and Resurrector of old bones.
Ancient I may be, but given the opportunity,
Once more, I’ll begin youth, among my children.
I’ll sing “The Love of Home” with passion,
Filling every word with vitality.
A fire still burns in my breast,
Fueled from the warmth of my people.
Once more, you will give me your strength,
Even though my poems are blood-clotted.
Once more will I build you with the substance of my life,
Though it requires powers beyond mine.

—Simin Behbahani
translated from the Persian by Farzaneh Milani and Kaveh Safa
from Language for a New Century