Cameroon

When I was in Berlin in 2003, I met a linguistics professor from Cameroon, who was doing a project on English-speakers from different regions. He wanted me to participate—he’d been having trouble finding Australians (which seems odd to me—we’re everywhere in Europe) but I was leaving to go to Prague—I met him on the train that was taking me to the bus station. I would have been interested to hear more about the project. When I think of Cameroon, I think of meeting this man briefly, and this sudden sense I had of Cameroon as a place, one that I had never thought about before. It was a spotlight on my ignorance.

Cameroon has two different dates of independence, from 1960 and 1961—it had to gain independence from both France and the United Kingdom. Perhaps a result of this split in the dates for independence, rather than celebrating an independence day on either 1 January or 1 October, Cameroon instead celebrates its National Day on 20 May—though 1 October is celebrated as Unification Day, and 1 January is a public holiday anyway for the New Year.

The nation is formed from the union of the two former colonies—French Cameroun and British Cameroons. Now the country is the United Republic of Cameroon. Comparatively, Cameroon enjoys political and social stability—there has been (imperfect, and not always well-maintained) development of agriculture, roads, railways, industries… but there is still a great deal of poverty, and the government of Paul Biya—president since 1982—engenders widespread corruption. Biya did initially start out moving toward a more democratic government, but a failed coup d’etát put an end to that. In 2006 Biya did initiate an anti-corruption move. The jury’s out. Since 1990, there has been pressure from some areas of the former British Cameroons for secession as the Republic of Ambazonia—and the Cameroons National Council declared it an independent state in 1999, though the declaration has not been recognised. The press in the country is curtailed in its freedoms—there is a lot of self-censorship in the media to avoid possible consequences. On the other hand, there is a high level of religious freedom.

Reading about Cameroon’s geography is awakening my wanderlust—the country has coast, desert, mountains, rainforest and savannah. Just writing those words makes the idea of empty places open in front of me.

Today’s poem is by the poet Mbella Sonne Dipoko—I found it using Google Books in the pages Penguin allowed me to view of an anthology of modern African poetry…


Our Life

An ailing bird over the desert made its agony
A song blown through the air
As at the oasis
Drawers of water said
How long it flies oh how touching its song

The winged hope that proved to be a dream
(Masked our destiny with a black hood)

As in the cities we said the same prayers
As in the villages we espoused ancestral myths
Transmitting our frustration our life our mortality
To the young country of tomorrow and day after tomorrow
Flattering ourselves with the charity of the blood-donor’s love.

— Mbella Sonne Dipoko

Timor-Leste

The Democratic republic of Timor-Leste gained its independence in 2002: on 20 May they celebrate Independence Day. As one of the nations closest to Australian, East Timor is a country that I have felt very conscious of in the last decade as independence became an issue.

East Timor’s independence has been a long process: in 1975 the country declared independence from Portugal (and 28 November is a public holiday too—known as Proclamation of Independence Day) but later the same year was invaded by Indonesia who occupied the country for a long time. In 1999 Indonesia relinquished control of the territory and in 2002 Timor-Leste became the first new sovereign state of the twenty-first century. Following independence the government requested the official name in all languages to be Timor-Leste, but most English speakers still refer to it as East Timor. In the Australian media, where the struggle for independence and subsequent history of the country have been a constant stream, the media always calls the country East Timor.

Timor-Leste has been inhabited for at least 40,000 years—the earliest migrants were related to the indigenous groups of New Guinea and Australia. Around 5000 years ago, Austronesians migrated through the region, including Timor-Leste—they may have developed agriculture in the country. A third group, proto-Malays, arrived in the country too—I don’t know when. In the fourteenth century Timor became part of the Chinese and Indian trading networks.

The Portuguese arrived in the sixteenth century, establishing an outpost in Timor. In 1769, when European occupation of the territory really started, the capital Dili was founded. The Portuguese provided very little by way of infrastructure for the island.

During World War II, the country was occupied briefly by Dutch and Australian armies: they wanted to preempt the invasion of the island by Japan. The Japanese arrived and drove the Australians out of Dili. At the end of the war, Portuguese control was reinstated until they began decolonisation in 1974.

It was only nine days after the 28 November declaration of independence in 1975 that Indonesian forces invaded. A guerrilla outfit—Falintil—fought against the Indonesians from 1975 until 1999. One thing that really interests me about the Indonesian occupation is that the Indonesians banned the Portuguese language (along with Tetum, the official language of Timor-Leste) in the country, and so Portuguese was used clandestinely, and became a symbol of resistance: one colonisers language was used as a kind of weapon against the new coloniser. The 1991 Dili Massacre brought international attention to Timor-Leste, strengthening support for an independent East Timor.

Though an independent Timor-Leste was recognised in 2002, tensions have continued—in 2006, for instance, riots broke out, which led to peace-keeping forces from a number of countries. In February this year, the president José Ramos-Horta was injured as the result of an assassination attempt during a failed coup.

A recent issue—as in much of the rest of the world—is hunger. 2007 saw a bad harvest, and the lack of food led to deaths in several parts of the country.

Today’s poem was written by the East Timorese Prime Minister Xanana Gusmão, the second poem of the project so far to be written by a poet who became a country’s leader. Gusmão wrote this poem while he was in Cipinang Prison.


My Sea of Timor

If I could capture between my fingers the sighs of the sea and share them with children
If I could caress with my fingers the wave's gentle breeze and feel the hair of children
If I could feel between my fingers the kiss of the foam and hear the laughter of children
If I could touch with my fingers the sleep of the sea and coax to slumber the eyes of children
If I could take between my fingers pretty little shells and make of them necklaces for children
Oh, sea of mine! why do you wait? why don't you give? why don't you feel? why don't you hear?
Immersed in my thoughts I was suddenly shaken From the sea, my sea, Out of the bellies of ships, tremors came
I looked at the erupting sky and the size of the sea were cries of agony the gentle breeze the smell of dust and blood the kiss of the foam the death-rattle the sea's slumber. The pebbles of the gravestone and the pretty shells traced the destiny of the Homeland!
—Cipinang Prison, Jakarta October 8, 1995

—Xanana Gusmão

Norway

Ah, Norway. 17 May marks Norway’s Constitutition Day, and gives me a chance to think about fjords, and the Northern Lights. Officially, it’s the Kingdom of Norway, and as well as the country itself includes Svalbard and Jan Mayen—as I’ve written before, Svalbard is one of the places that I’m fascinated by. I often seem to find myself looking up its history, and pictures of the place… The sovereignty of Norway over Svalbard is based upon the Svalbard Treaty of 1920. Norway, you will no doubt be pleased to know, tied with first place in the human development index in 2007, and was also ranked as the most peaceful country in the world last year.

From the archaeological evidence, it looks like Norway was first colonised about 12,000 years ago. It’s early known history was a time of petty kingdoms; tradition has it that Harald Fairhair (Harald Fairhair!) brought to these kingdoms together in 872 AD with the Battle of Hafrsfjord, thus becoming the first king of a now-united Norway.

Scandinavia of course also brings to mind Vikings, and I’m interested to learn that it was people of Norwegian origin who founded the Irish cities of Dublin and Limerick. Also that the third king of Norway, Haakon the Good (Haakon the Good!), was Norway’s first Christian king.

Alliances and kingdoms among the Nordic nations weren’t continually independent after the early unification of Norway: in the fourteenth century Norway, Denmark and Sweden all came under control of the Danish Queen Margrethe I, and though Sweden broke away in the 16th century, Norway remained part of this union until 1814. (1814 also saw Norway on the losing side in the Napoleonic Wars.) Independence in Norway, as well as bringing a constitution based on American and French models, also brought about the election of the Danish crown prince Christian Fredrik as king. On top of that, war broke out with Sweden—they’d been promised Norway as a reward for aiding the winners in the Napoleonic war, but their army wasn’t strong enough to defeat the Norwegians outright. Norway instead agreed to enter a personal union with Sweden (which I have now learned means there is “relationship of two or more entities that are considered separate, sovereign states, which, through established law, share the same person as their respective head of state.” Again, thankyou Wikipedia.) This union ended in 1907.

Norway remained neutral in World War I, but was invaded by the Germans in World War II.

There are two official written Norwegian languages (who, besides the Norwegians, knew?)—Bokmål and Nynorsk. Both officially have equal status and are both used in public administration, schools, media etc—but Bokmål is the language used by the majority. There are also a lot of dialects spoken, as well as some Sami languages, especially in the north. (Do yourself a favour. Look up the Sami people. Interesting stuff.)

Today’s poem—ah! getting to the point!—is by the Norwegian poet Pedro Carmona-Alvarez, and is translated by Roger Greenwald, who is probably the major translator of Norwegian literature into English. It’s another from the new book New European Poets, which I cannot praise enough.

60 Minutes

There’s a war, it starts and is already missing
from histories, tales
under the light of lamps that sparkle
and lean over bodies
There’s a war and there are pebbles. The presence
of myths, blood running from the forehead puddles
in the eyes
resembles make-up and puddles in the eyes resembles war
in the eyes that tremble from being windows,
shaking from knowing the inside

There’s a war and all the generals have drowned.
There’s a war
and my sweetheart comes home
her hair pulled up in a knot that tightens her face
till it’s unrecognizable.
There’s a war and the ones who know are heading home
to watch themselves on screens.

Make me happy and it won’t help much.


—Pedro Carmona-Alvarez
translated from the Norwegian by Roger Greenwald
from New European Poets

Paraguay

Paraguay, Paraguay… For some people “Timbuktu” is the place-name that inspires romantic visions. For me, it is not one but two places that have been in my mind for years and years, as the farflung corners I want to visit: Paraguay is one of them. (Botswana is the other, if you’re curious; and, more recently, add Patagonia and Svalbard.) To tell the full story: when I was ten, and very serious about music, I went to a music camp where the Australian harp-maker Andy Rigby visited us. While there, he told us about the harps he had picked up on his travels: harps from Paraguay and Botswana.

Paraguay’s Flag Day falls on 14 May—I’ve noticed that most of the Latin American independence days are clustered around September, so I’m interested in this different date. Paraguay actually celebrates for two days: 14 May is Flag Day, then 15 May is Independence Day. I’ve decided to post on the former, because independence was actually declared (from Spain) on 14 May in 1811—I want to mark that anniversary, and I don’t think it’s cheating when they still celebrate on that day.

Europeans arrived in Paraguay in the 16th century, and the city of Asunción was founded in 1537 as a settlement that eventually became the center of a Spanish colonial province, as well as a important site for Jesuit missions. I’m sad that immediately accessible sources don’t give much information about pre-Columbian history of the region—only that it was inhabited by the seminomadic Guarani
-speaking tribes prior to European contact.

Following the emergence of Paraguay as an independent nation, the government of the country has apparently been marked by authoritarian government and wars with neighbouring regions. 1989 marked the start of a transition to democracy.

Geographically? It’s a landlocked country (bordering countries: Argentina, Bolivia and Brazil) and it straddles the Tropic of Capricorn.


Today’s poem was written by Rodrigo Díaz-Pérez, and comes from the Anthology of Contemporary Latin American Literature 1960-1984.


Memories

I left Paraguay
one clear January day.
The sun bit the watersheds
of turbulent rivers.
The land of the dreams
of all the silences
so quietly
went on adding new dimensions
to the frame of my forge.

And today appear
solemn colors
disappeared,
vaguely touching some corner,
some burned corner
lost forever
on the long journey of no return.

My heart, my pulse,
my eternal ardor,
Oh chronological tortures
of blinding afternoons.
And when I arrived he said:
“Don’t say, brother,
that you departed.
You will not depart, brother,
though you may leave.”

—Rodrigo Díaz-Pérez
Translated from the Spanish by Wayne H Finke
from Anthology of Contemporary Latin American Literature 1960-1984

Channel Islands

The Channel Islands are a British dependency, that fall into two self-governing bailiwicks. (There are multiple flags, too.) And, yes, I’m thrilled that this project has given me a reason to use the word “bailiwick.” Thrilled. On 9 May they celebrate Liberation Day—during World War II the island were the only part of the British Commonwealth to be occupied by Germany. Think about this: the British Commonwealth is a huge, sprawling thing, and its only this small group of islands that were occupied. So: Liberation from occupation is a significant thing.

But back to the bailiwicks. As mentioned above, the islands are self-governing, with two separate governing bodies: the Bailiwick of Guernsey and the Bailiwick of Jersey. The overall population of the islands is somewhere around 160,000—that’s no slouch. Eight of the islands are inhabited, and all except Jersey fall under the Bailiwick of Guernsey. The linguistics enthusiast in me is interested to learn that as a general rule the larger islands have an –ey suffix while the smaller islands have a –hou. This is thought to derive from the Old Norse –ey and holmr.

The islands were annexed to the Duchy of Normandy in 933; then there was “1066 and all that” with William the Conqueror, with William becoming the king of England, and the Channel Islands becoming part of the English Crown. When the 1204 loss of the lands of Normandy to France occurred, France only took on the continental Normandy, and the Channel Islands stayed under the English Crown.

Of the four main Norman dialects of the islands, one (Auregnais) has recently become “extinct.” Dgèrnésiais (Guernsey), Jèrriais (Jersey) and Sarkese (Sark) are spoken today. And (this fascinates me) the islanders of the four main islands have traditional nicknames—the Guernsey people are les ânes, or donkeys (locals claim this as strength of characters; Jersey-ites interpret it as stubbornness); Jersey-ites are crapauds or toads (apparently there are toads and snakes on Jersey that Guernsey doesn’t have); Sark dwellers are corbins, or crows; and those living on Alderney are called lapins—rabbits. Alderney has a lot of rabbit warrens.

Victor Hugo spent a long time in exile in the Channel Island—first in Jersey, then Guernsey. While there he wrote Les Misérables. Wow! Claude Debussy also visited Jersey, and while there composed part of La Mer. Two artistic monuments.

Today’s poem comes from a nineteenth century collection I found in my searches. Two bilingual volumes of The Patois Poems of the Channel Islands were published, as Channel Islands poets wrote in their dialects. This both fits in with the nineteenth century interest in nationalism, but the collection of local dialects also remind me of the work of linguists and anthropologists wanting to capture culture and language before it disappears. As no author is attributed, I take this to be one of the popular “Folk Poems” the book presents.

The Churning-Maid’s Song
From the Guernsey dialect

Oh the daisies are bright, and the asphodels,
And the clover is sweet, and the pimpernels,
With every fair floweret that blossoms and blows,
On the smiling hills where out cattle browse!
Then listen ye all to my simple song,
While the churn goes merrily plashing along!

Just look at their markings, our cows as they stand,
How splendid they are, and our red ones, how grand!
Oh handsomer heifers there never have been,
And prettier calves you never have seen!
Then listen ye all, &c.

The birds in the thicket how gladsome they sound,
The cows in the pastures are lowing around;
The bees, oh how busy they hum near the hive,
While the shouts of the children, they keep you alive!
Then listen ye all, &c.

In churning and churning the butter comes well,
While churning, still churning, my stories I tell;
The heaven gleams in blueness, and all the day long,
I hear in the breezes some plaintive love song.
Then listen ye all, &c.

The daisies spread wide o’er the pastures so sweet,
The primrose is blossoming under our feet,
And we shall have butter as yellow as gold,
For which chinking silver will quickly be told.
Ten listen ye all, &c.

The butter is coming all ready for sale,
And the churning goes on as I tell my tale,
While, to-morrow, will Marion drive to town,
And the old horse to market will carry it down.
Then listen ye all, & c.

From The Patois Poems of the Channel Islands, 1883

Israel

Israel’s Independence Day varies year by year in the Western calendar—the Hebrew calendar differs from the Gregorian calendar, and the Israeli Independence Day falls on Iyar 5, a date that falls between 14 April and 14 May each year. This year, Iyar 5 is on 8 May. On the Gregorian calendar, the declaration of independence took place on 14 May in 1948.

In 1947, the United Nations approved the division of the Mandate of Palestine into two states, an Arab and a Jewish state. We all know that since that time, the region has been in a state of constant tension, if not outright conflict. The name “Israel” derives from the Old Testament/Pentateuch book of Genesis in which Jacob is renamed Israel after wrestling successfully with an angel of God. The biblical nation that descends from Jacob as such became known as the “Children of Israel” or the “Israelites.” (Entirely incidentally, I’ve been thinking about the nineteenth century proto-Zionist movement, as I’ve been writing a paper on George Eliot’s Daniel Deronda recently.)

Large waves of immigration to modern-day Israel began late in the 19th century as Jews fled pogroms in Eastern Europe. This is known as the First Aliyah, or עלייה. The Second Aliyah began after the Kishinev pogrom, an anti-Jewish riot that took place in 1903 in what is now the Moldovan capital Chişinău. Some of the migrants of the Second Aliyah were early socialists who were responsible for the kibbutz movement. The Third and Fourth Aliyahs took place between the two World Wars, and the Fifth Aliyah took place during the aftermath of World War II.

The last fifty years have seen repeated conflicts in the region—the Six-Day War of 1967; the massacre of Israeli athletes at the 1972 Olympics followed by the Israeli Operation Wrath of God; the Lebanese Civil War; the First Intifada (a Palestinian uprising against Israeli rule); the first Gulf War; the Second Intifada; the five-week war known in Israel as the Second Lebanon War.

I have to see the Judean desert for myself one day. I must.

Today’s poem is by the poet Yehudi Amichai—it was a toss-up. There are certainly other Israeli poets I admire as well. Still, there comes a moment that I have to choose. I chose. I love this poem. I found it here.

Jerusalem

On a roof in the Old City
Laundry hanging in the late afternoon sunlight:
The white sheet of a woman who is my enemy,
The towel of a man who is my enemy,
To wipe off the sweat of his brow.

In the sky of the Old City
A kite.
At the other end of the string,
A child
I can’t see
Because of the wall.

We have put up many flags,
They have put up many flags.
To make us think that they’re happy.
To make them think that we’re happy.

—Yehuda Amichai
translated from the Hebrew by Irena Gordon

Netherlands

When looking into world independence days, I found that the Netherlands neither had an independence day, a foundation day nor a “national” day. What they do have, however, is a Liberation Day on 5 May. This is not a public holiday every year (every fifth year it is observed as a holiday) but it is a day of national celebration each year. In a way, Liberation Day is similar to the “Independence Restoration” days that some former SSRs celebrate, and liberation from occupation—in this case, the German occupation of World War II—is certainly a opportunity for national reflection.

Ideas we have of the Netherlands? Windmills, clogs, tulips. Those of us with the inclination, gouda and edam. Bicycles everywhere and pretty blue and white delft pottery. Also, tolerance: drugs, sexuality, abortion, euthanasia… The Netherlands is also the home of many international courts, situated in The Hague. It all adds up to an idea of a place where human rights are respected, and no-one is afraid to embrace the slightly kitsch. Plus, there’s art.

The Netherlands has been inhabited for millennia—though it’s really from the middle ages onward that the Netherlands figures in world history. Following the Eighty Years’ War from 1568-1648 the independence of the Netherlands was recognised, with the 1648 Treaty of Münster. During the Eighty Years’ War the Dutch provinces were the most important trading centre in Europe. Because I’m fascinated by the play, I was interested to learn that during this period, Dutch ships hunted whales of Svalbard. (Svalbard! Look at some pictures. Desolate and beautiful.) The Dutch were part of the slave trade—a significant portion of the wealth of the Netherlands came through slavery during the slave trade period.

During the French revolution the Netherlands came under the occupation of the French army (pesky Napoleon!) and in 1806 Napoleon pronounced the region the “Kingdom of Holland,” instating his brother as king. It didn’t last long—reunification came in 1815, with the sixth William of Orange at the head.

The occupation in World War II is well-known—perhaps most widely as a result of The Diary of Anne Frank. In 1945 Nazi Germany capitulated, signing their surrender to the Dutch on: Liberation Day.

The Netherlands, of course, has also been the origin of many major artists. It’s not all Rembrandt and Van Gogh. Bosch, Bruegel, Mondrian, de Kooning… It’s a feast.

Today’s poem comes from the recent anthology New European Poets. (Anyone at all interested in contemporary world poetry should buy it immediately.) Written by Nachoem E. Wijnberg, I liked the idea of a ‘psalmic’ poem to celebrate liberation.


Psalm 22

Listen.
The words I that I cry out

like

a herd,
stampeding the field,
and there is no other field.

There is a drowning horse at the bottom of a waterfall,
there is blood on half my face.

Doesn’t it distract you to listen to me
from your sure and constant loss?

But I keep an eye open for you
so that you can look through it
and look again and can think of an answer
and want to take it back like an unintended but relinquished sacrifice.

Like saying: I don’t want
to lose you.

—Nachoem E. Wijnberg
translated from the Dutch by Alissa Valles
from New European Poets