Ahuti

Brown Africa


Written: 2000 or 2001;
Original Title: Gahun Afrikaa;
Translated: from the Nepali by Mary Des Chene;
Transcribed: for marxists.org August, 2002.


My red blood

            pure red blood of a human

when it spills

            as a drop of blue sweat

you collect it

            in the furrows of your soft cupped palms

when I try to snort away that sweat

            redolent with labour

you humiliate and distance me

Have the nerve to meet my eyes priest!

I am the twentieth century's "untouchable"!

            the brown Africa of this round rock

I claim justice/I claim freedom.


The smell of my forge is in your temple idol

the smell of my sweat in the pan

            on your hearth's tripod

Have the nerve to meet my eyes pious one.

            either roast my existence in red hot embers

                        and have the nerve to uphold dharma

            or rip up the learned pages that humiliate me

                        and have the courge to set them ablaze

I am the Kami who made the god of your temple

            the brown Africa of this round rock


Sniff the clean floor of your dwelling

the smell of my blood

            is in the very flesh of your abode

Have the nerve to meet my eyes clean one!

            either fill my red veins with water

            or clean the filth from your mind

I am the Chyaame who scoops dirt from your dwelling

            the brown Africa of this round rock


Tear open the pleasure sacs in your mind

there the sweet rustle of my music is heard

Have the nerve to meet my eyes conscious one!

            either have the guts to tie me with the beast

                        and feed me grass

            or have the courage to make yourself

                        different from the beasts

I am the Gaine, the Baadi who bows the fiddle, beats the drum!

            the brown Africa of this round rock.


Take the pulse of my life

            thrust into earth's crust

there a watering hole of my tears is found

Have the nerve to meet my eyes glutted one!

            either have the guts to say

                        the smell of my tears is not in your food

            or have the courage to respect my dalit life

I am the Musahar serf who swims through earth along with your bull

            the brown Africa of this round rock


From the shoe on your foot

            to the cap on your head

from the farthest horizon of your vision

            to the rhythm of your heart

                        Am I nowhere? I am everywhere.

How can you make me "untouchable" touchable one?

            either have the nerve to stand in history's witness box

            or have the courage to change yourself

Have the nerve to meet my eyes priest!

I am the twentieth century's "untouchable"!

            the brown Africa of this round rock.

I claim the accounting of humiliated history

            At any cost I claim freedom.


_____________________

*Kami, Chyaame, Gaine, Baadi, and Musahar are among the dalit peoples declared "untouchable" by the Hindu caste system that still prevails in the 'brown' sub-continent, each assigned an occupation considered demeaning and polluting by so-called "high" castes.