São Tomé and Príncipe

So, São Tomé and Príncipe celebrate Independence Day on 12 July—independence? From Portugal. 1975. São Tomé and Príncipe are two islands, about 140 kilometres apart, and around 250 kilometres from the African mainland. They’re in the Gulf of Guinea, and if you head east from the islands, you’ll run into Gabon. They’re pretty well equatorial—São Tomé (the southernmost of the two) is just north of that invisible line. For the trivia night fact collection? It’s the smallest nation in the wold that is not a former British overseas territory, for US trusteeship or one of those European microstates. Yes, those are a few exceptions to remember—but interesting, yes? São Tomé is named, as I’m sure you can tell, for Saint Thomas—Portuguese explorers arrived on his feast day.

And before that 15th century Saint Thomas’s day, the islands were uninhabited. After exploring, the Portuguese decided the islands would make a nice base for trading with the mainland. Settlement began in 1493 on São Tomé, and in 1500 on Príncipe. Not a lot of people wanted to move there, though, and apparently early settlers were sent from Portugal as “undesirables.” In keeping with the nature of 16th century attitudes, a lot of those sent to the islands were Jews.

When sugar production took off in the islands the Portuguese paid attention, and made sure to administer the islands. Profit is a great motivator. When the new world brought better sugar colonies, the islands became a transit point for the slave trade—well, until that dried up too. Next up? Coffee and cocoa. (You need to move with the times—and I haven’t seen popularity of either product wane…) Cocoa is still the most important crop. Yum.

When the Caetano dictatorship ended in Portugal in 1974, the country decided to dissolve its overseas colonies—independence became the order of the day. So the Movement for the Liberation of São Tomé and Príncipe, formed in the 1950s, had its day. In the 1990s the country decided to go in for democratic reform, with a multi-party system and free and fair elections. Good job. There was something of a hiccup in July 2003—the army decided they’d do it better and seized power. It was a brief event though—after a week the president was back in power.

The poem I’ve got for you is by Aldo de Espirito Santo, and is from The Penguin Book of Modern African Poetry. It was translated from the Portuguese by Gerald Moore. (I hope you all remember to appreciate translators when you read books from other languages…)


Where are the Men Seized in this Wind of Madness?

Blood falling in drops to the earth
men dying in the forest
and blood falling, falling…
on those cast into the sea…
Fernâo Dias for ever in the story
of Ilha Verde, red with blood,
of men struck down
in the vast arena of the quay.
Alas the quay, the blood, the men,
the fetters, the lash of beatings
resound, resound, resound
dropping in the silence of prostrated lives
of cries, and howls of pain
from men who are men no more,
in the hands of nameless butchers
Zé Mulato in the story of the quay
shooting men in the silence
of bodies falling.
Alas Zé Mulato, Zé Mulato,
The victims cry for vengeance
The sea, the sea of Fernâo Dias
devouring human lives
is bloody red.
—We are arisen—
Our eyes are turned to you.
Our lives entombed
in fields of death,
men of the Fifth of February
men fallen in the furnace of death
imploring pity
screaming for life,
dead without air, without water
they all arise
from the common grave
and upright in the chorus of justice
cry for vengeance…
The fallen bodies in the forest,
the homes, the homes of men
destroyed in the gulf
of ravening fire,
lives incinerated,
raised the unaccustomed chorus of justice
crying for vengeance.
And all you hangmen
all you torturers
sitting in the dock:
—What have you done with my people? …
—What do you answer?
—Where is my people? …
And I answer in the silence
of voices raised
demanding justice…
One by one, through all the line…
For you, tormentors,
forgiveness has no name.
Justice shall be heard.
And the blood of lives fallen
in the forests of death,
innocent blood
drenching the earth
in a silence of terrors
shall make the earth fruitful,
crying for justice,
It is the flame of humanity
singing of hope
in a world without bonds
where liberty
is the fatherland of men…


—Aldo do Espirito Santo
from The Penguin Book of Modern African Poetry
translated from the Portuguese by Gerald Moore