Why we laugh at politicians and give them names
In our ‘White Collar Delinquent’s Democracy’
Where the monopoly of power is
the birthright of those
who get it by crook
and the state apparatus is
and instrument of personal vendetta;
elections are won
under the ogogoro of
Monsieur Chirac’s distillery
Many southern Cameroonians have been misled by
their opinion;
their wrong ideas have warped
their judgement
They want to count the raindrops or
the sand along
Victoria beach
They refuse to change, to be converted.
Tadpole armies and their Brigadier Generals will
realize the self-appointed
Commanders-in-chief are nothing
more than the works of human hands
Everything made by racketeers of power
will decay and perish, along
with the thieves who made it.
The people who build the world are the ones
who do not follow the example so the kokoro insect
feeding fat
under the leaf of
the vegetable
Wounds can be
bandaged and insults can
be forgiven,
but if you betray a
confidence it is hopeless just
as thieves will suffer disgrace freelance mutants
of power will suffer severe condemnation
The lord Mayors of the Ewondos died and all he then
possessed are flies worms and maggots
Injustice, arrogance and wealth cause federations
to fall from
power and others then rise to take
their place
The Sultan of ‘‘Go-if-you-don’t like it-here’’ is despised
while he is on the throne think
how much Ahmadou Ahidjo’s corpse will be flogged
in it’s Re-unification Qui-or-
Yes caskets; Where thieves will wander in and help
themselves
No one should ask why things are as they are
These questions will be answered at the right time.
Henrik Nordbrandt (1945- ; trans. Alexander Taylor)
Sailing
After having loved we lie close together
and at the same time with distance between us
like two sailing ships that enjoy so intensely
their own lines in the dank water they divide
that their hulls
are almost splitting from sheer delight
while racing, out in the blue
under sails which the night wind fills
with flowerscented air and moonlight
– without one of them ever trying
to outsail the other
and without the distance between them
lessening or growing at all.
But there are other nights, where we drift
like two brightly illuminated luxury liners
lying side by side
with the engines shut off, under a strange constellation
and without a single passenger on board:
On each deck a violin orchestra is playing
in honor of the luminous waves.
And the sea is full of old tired ships
which we have sunk in our attempt to reach each other.
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