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mind entropy of the ethiofrican

the horn’s dustyfoot wordisans

31 January, 2009 | 14 comments | Category: book snip, for.the.love.of.words!, love.of.words!, musiqa, poetry

I wrote about the dusty foot philosopher k’naan’s wordskillz last year. looks like the emcee-poet-word artist is back with a new album!

a somali wordisan artisan
K’naan’s poem ‘too well done’ portrays beyond doubt the power of words to relay messages dripping with passion and energy. It does that as it encapsulates an experience within the horn in a unique and touchingly honest way that no other medium could.

Words can shake. caress. arouse. repel. expose. provoke. uplift… It’s intriguing how complicated the history of cultures & their wordplays get. Though, simply -- words sculpt a story through a unique writer-orator’s worldview. enter: the horn immigrant K’naan hailing from Wardhiigleey (”The Lake of Blood”), Mogadishu, Somalia, now a rapper residing in Canada.


the horn of africa’s wordy history

For a region with communities that raised us teaching you must respect the elders without daring to talk back…words weigh a lot. Though the truth -- our stories are not heard in our voices resounding across the world. We hear stories about wars, famine and suffering, no clear and honed voices speaking out in intricate articulation about people of ancient cultures sharing their glorious humanity, until now. The groove of the horn is deep with a lot of treasure within… as K’Naan put it “The horn of Africa has the deepest wells humanity has ever dug to find the truest sentiments that describe the world and what it contains.”

I’ve been reading ‘Notes from the Hyena’s Belly‘, an interestingly written book seeping stories about cultural rituals and traditions through the eyes of a grown man remembering his childhood in Jijiga, eastern Ethiopia -- a cultural crossroads between the interior of Ethiopia and the interior of Somaliland. And I came across a section that described the role of poets in times past, of highland kingdom kings and noblemen, feudal lords and warriors…

The key to the kinae lies in the contradictory nature of the Amharic language…Generations of oppression, without freedom of speech, gave birth to this tangling of meaning and intentions. If a man had been mistreated by a feudal lord or local chieftain, he would compose a kinae to read at a social event, a poem that was sweet and heart-rending to the untrained ar, but quite biting to the lord- one of the intended audience.

The peasants, by and large, were illiterate and unable to put together a recondite kinae, so the poets did it for them. A poet might compose a kinae to inform the lord that the taxes he had levied on his subjects were expensive, about the brutality of his son, who raped and plundered the locals, or as a plea for forgiveness on behalf of the man he had recently thrown into his private jail. The feudal lord was often trained in the interpretation of the kinae, but if he doubted his own judgment, there were always one or two monks beside him to shed light on the subject. Poets were usually exempt form the repercussions of their kinae, as lords were generally reluctant to be seen as monstrous persecutors of humble poets. Besides, the poet could always plead his ignorance, claiming that his intentions were misread, and offer apologies.


It’s quite fascinating really, the horn has such ancient traditions with words…intertwined with the fabric of society where the lifestyle has been dictated by the nature of the location. A location very much at a crossroads and junction point between continents with a variety of cultures. Like most forms of African art, spoken and written words are mixed into the way of life; literature is functional, musical, entertaining, uplifting and has a performance culture fused with it. Like most African art -- it is holistic…interactive…improvisational… communal.

The horn is the land of storytelling, poetry, fables, riddles of play, wisdom and double edged words…warrior chants and calls, songs of childplay, lyrics to accompany the grinding of grains & the sifting of dry pepper fruit … Religious & spiritual hymns resound along with rhythmic recitations of scripture and the echoing sounds of mosque prayers …words spar for justice village elders witness conflicts of village members, scribes record mystical tales as beggars and singers improvise poetry & lyrics to customize to their listeners…

the dusty foot filosofer’s wordy inspiration

‘Somalia tops Forbes magazine’s “Most Dangerous Destinations,” list above Iraq and Afghanistan. And yet it is “The Nation of Poets,” where a poem has the power to inspire peace. Where every weekend, regardless of the climate, one can find a play or concert.’

‘Somalia was dubbed by the 19th century British explorer Richard Burton in his book ‘First Footsteps in East Africa‘ as a nation of bards:

The country teems with poets, every man has his recognized position in literature as accurately defined as though he had been reviewed in a century of magazines -- the fine ear of this people causing them to take the greatest pleasure in harmonious sounds and poetic expressions. Every chief in the country must have a panegyric to be sung by his clan, and the great patronize light literature by keeping a poet. Read more about Somali poetry

.

As Said Samatar explains, a Somali poet is expected to play a role in supporting his tribe or clan, “to defend their rights in clan disputes, to defend their honor and prestige against the attacks of rival poets, to immortalize their fame and to act on the whole as a spokesman for them.” In short, a traditional poem is occasional verse composed to a specific end, with argumentative or persuasive elements, and having a historical context.’

The grandson of Haji Mohamed, one of Somalia’s most famous poets, and nephew of famed Somali singer Magool, K’naan the emcee is creating his own musical orator path through reggae, funk, pop, soul and hip-hop. K’naan says he makes “urgent music with a message”, talking about the situation in his homeland of Somalia and calling for an end to violence and bloodshed. He specifically tries to avoid gangsta rap clichés and posturing, saying:

“All Somalis know that gangsterism isn’t to brag about. The kids that I was growing up with [in Rexdale] would wear baggy [track] suit pants, and a little jacket from Zellers or something, and they’d walk into school, and all the cool kids would be like, ‘Ah, man, look at these Somalis. Yo, you’re a punk!’ And the other kid won’t say nothing, but that kid, probably, has killed fifteen people.

”

“My job is to write just what I see / So a visual stenographer is who I be,” he rhymes in “I Come Prepared.”

here’s the video of his first single from his latest album.

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On t’Brink Again: Hungry Horn

25 September, 2008 | 1 comment | Category: peace & conflict

the looping setting on the horn of africa. BAM!
2008 ~9.6 million hungry people (hi food prices), 3.25 million affected by drought.
2001 ~over 12 million people in Ethio, Eritrea needing urgent aid within drought.
1984 ~ 5-7 million affected with very high death rate: drought/delayed response/war.
read more.

it’s worse than the last time…they say…

i did something last time.

i wonder if i will again.

having experienced being at one of the sites they always show on news clips of people collecting food, i am intrigued by how news stories depict the scene…
here’s a pre-commentary, pre-news-edit video, part of the world food programme press release on the drought…

the bareness of the video was chilling to watch. but specifically, watching it in detached mode, i could think of a million ways someone could cut and paste this to make it ‘news worthy’. now, take that little snip with naked emaciated kids with bloated bellies, children collecting grains from the dust.
this piece of material could make a bang…yes, it is indeed as bad as 1984. yes, indeed this is the condition of the horn. sad reality that it is…

at the risk of viewers dismissing the news piece scoffing ‘ahhh…yea…didn’t they have that show on last nite? that infomercial about giving money to feed starving babies?’ the ‘pity-worthy-ness’ to a lesser degree, and the creative spin to a greater degree. these could be the uumph that can compete with other news pieces for the front page, the headline, the breaking news…and prove the point this is indeed comparable to 1984. the always-ness of africa. take a look!

i wonder.
what could be going through the camera person’s mind while they’re recording it? or the producers’ in thinking about what appeals to his audience? what kinda agenda/bias do they bring by editing?
relaying the urgency of the situation, the need for response…a successful news story that reaches the front page…booya! tv superstandome?? good news, is no news…right?

but really… what of the things that fall through the cracks. that wouldn’t bolster stereotypes…
a cultural value system and context lost in translation? like…respect and reverence of food in that it shouldn’t be wasted. Proverb: “migib kibur new”/”food is to be revered.” This presumes all food is not to be wasted unless it has been contaminated irreversibly…
Also, there may be different conceptions of contamination and germs…and an integrated perception of food-and nature…along with different ideas on ‘wastefulness’ ‘food’ ‘materialism’….’cleanliness’…
an understanding of these things make the scene with kids scrambling for grains on the sandy ground less dramatic.

Edit. Edit. Edit.

the construction of recent history
…versus a recording of the past…

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Hand-tied: pulse of the horn

13 June, 2008 | 7 comments | Category: peace & conflict, thinking...

* A ridiculous inflation in Ethiopia (at 87% by some accounts) that’s got the price of food costing above most people’s wages: skyrocketing escalation of insane standards of living
* Another green drought in Ethiopia with 4.5mil people needing emergency aid + hunger due to food prices in the towns (I’ve heard of govn’t job holders eating Qolo and water)! + blackouts in the cities
* Scattered explosions in Addis Ababa
* Djibouti and Eritrea about to start a war, Djibouti backed by France
* Ethiopian soldiers burning towns and villages in the Somali region
* Continued fighting in Somalia, Ethiopian soliders occupying the country

and the list goes on…

I feel completely hand-tied sometimes! Like that time there was this group activity thingie where everyone had their eyes blinded or hands tied to test drive a disability.

Sometimes I feel rage, this bubbling anger at the brutality people allow for their luxurious, ridiculous pleasures. I want to screammm, yell at them! Harass them into submission! Something!

Sometimes the corners of my eyes sparkle with unshed tears, my heart so freaking heavy and jaws clenched that it hurts below my ears… some other time I just can’t help it and I chuckle at the heartbreaking predictability and absurdness of the events in the horn!

The horn of Africa is in flames (ha!…who knew keratin could be so flammable? hu?! lol) the Horn is an incomprehensible, unfathomable mess beyond all limits I knew! It is such a hot, smoking mess that it mad sitting and contemplating it, especially chatting along with others about ‘ohhh this freaking government!!’ or some other forsaken issue we try to solve…! (more…)

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brothers who are enemies

19 May, 2008 | No comments | Category: book snip, peace & conflict

And then there are incredible stories that knock u right out of your daily conundrum!

Have you ever heard the bizarre idea about creativity being the most potent weapon individuals have against war?? I thought it was a bit too ‘happily optimistic’ at first…until closer consideration… Ever heard the saying “necessity is the mother of innovation.”? Well, Wednesday’s news made me say: “heck ya!”

The quirky reflection that came to my mind reading the news goes…

“”It is in creativity, in the fashioning of self and world, that people find their most potent weapon against war.”

…1st, meandering to a tiny bit of intro….I first stumbled upon this bizarre concept in Carolyn Nordstrom’s “A different kind of war story” on her experience in the devastating 16-year-long civil war of Mozambique. As an anthropologist, she reflects on the messy nitty-gritties of war, civil society intricacies and the trajectories of individual lives within a land that is plagued with strife and struggle, where people are migrating between refugee camps and daily fearful for their lives…

she says “……ultimately, war victims have taught me, violence is about the destruction of culture and identity in a bid to control/crush political will.” She saw human condition at its ‘lowest’, when people were helpless, vicious, greedy, desperate and deeply disturbed. According to her “It is often in what we relegate to the margins of life process and theory [violence and the unspeakable] that speaks most fundamentally about core aspects of human existence.”

i think it’s real; in times of war, strife and struggle people have very few choices. when they are caught in the most devastating corner of all, they either create ways to survive, maintain/revivie their humanities and fight back…or get sucked in to becoming helpless puppets which push the gears of a viscous ‘war [insert other term] industry’.

According to the book, some resistance tools toward survival, restoring humanity & peace include the care and love in communities, creative expression and non-violence… (more…)

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the power of words: dustyfooted k’naan

24 August, 2007 | 10 comments | Category: love.of.words!, musiqa, poetry

“Communicating verbally rather than visually has much to recommend it. Words, used properly, can accurately convey concepts and explain complex ideas. They can persuade with logic and argument. They can change minds and thereby lives. The pen is mightier than the sword, because force can only compel from without, whereas words can convert from within. No wonder conquering cultures sometimes suppress indigenous tongues; no wonder it’s claimed that all you need to destroy a people is undermine their language. We naturally reign supreme among the animals, with our sophisticated speech. It is even said that without words, there is no memory.” — Ann Atkins of BBC Radio 4’s Thought For The Day. From Lemn’s blog

I leave you with a piece I believe exemplifies this with passion, grace and patience

TOO Well Done

By The Dusty Foot Philosopher

Justice has a sensitive belly.
I’ve noticed as a boy.
it has no use for me.
I am to it like fashion to the homeless.
Or an overcoat to the sun.
I’ve learned at an early age,
that I am an ambitious meal,
waiting to be tasted,
but occasions have come and gone.
Festivities and bloodstained victories,
elaborate celebrations and toasts,
in the name of hospital patients and ghosts,
in the name of hunger and misery,
suffering and diseases,
I’ve seen it all go by,
i’ve heard the crackling fire,
the meeting of the glasses,
the men in fine attire,
the burning cigar ashes.

Those were joyous days,
angels stripped to beasts,
the truth underneath the truth,
sold out seats and people,
no rights and wrongs, just good points,
opinions rush to form like soldiers,
and soldiers rush to kill for opinions,
that was the age of speech,
and communication, in a land where none dare speak,
and if a fool made the terrible mistake,
someone always screamed,
“can we please watch the war in peace”
the show must go on,
and everyone cheers for thieves,

I suppose I am surprised,
having endured time, and even wounds from the angel of death,
that justice has yet to taste me, touch me and smell my open veins,
ignoring me like my own shadow in the sunny mornings,

I remember my grandfather, sick and old with wisdom,
hammering his last nail into the wood of my old home,
his eyes dry of tears, nothing left to cry.
He said that I was exotic,
but like vomit, I was tough to swallow.
we sat in our pot,
boiling bothered and hot,
him dying, and me aspiring.
we dreamt and imagined far away places,
where justice ate away faces,
and guts and heads and arms too,
devouring on their discontent,
pecking and licking and chewing on their troubles,
gulping on their fears,
belching out assurance and security for all.
but this does not happen here,
justice does not dine here,
justice dies here,
it cannot take the sun,
or the poverty,
or the lack of sanitation,
but those are only excuses,
because really the truth is,
my ribs are too sour for it’s tongue,
my skin is too well done.
Suspicious newborns.
Flaming flowers.
Trusted snakes.
Death without brakes.
Bandits are leaders.
Rumors are law.
Sedatives are faith.
Rapers are praised.
Demons dress well.
Infants are nailed.
Spirits are jailed.
Grudges grow tails and wings and.
Things aren’t easy at my old home

source

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