“Raconte-moi”/”Tell Me” by Véronique Tadjo

Senufo face mask (Kpeliye’e) exposed at the MET

Slavery dealt a big blow to Africa. It dealt a big blow to her strength (imagine losing millions upon millions of some of your strongest children), to her self-confidence (imagine her children fearing for their lives chased into the depths of forests and savannahs), and to her soul. Then came colonization with forced labor, depersonnalization, confiscation of History, disregard for local cultures, cultural alienation, and colonial oppression. Slowly, the awakening is upon us; and slowly Africans are linking back to that glorious past of African civilizations, science, and cultures. The poem below by Ivorian author Véronique Tadjo is anchored upon that re-discovery of the African self in all its splendor, and connection to its roots in order to continue the legacy.

The poem “Raconte-moi” was published in Latérite / Red Earth, written in homage to Senufo culture, which won a literary prize from the Agence de Coopération Culturelle et Technique. The poem below was re-published  re-published in Anthologie Africaine: Poésie Vol2, Jacques Chevrier, Collection Monde Noir Poche, 1988, and translated to English by Dr. Y. Afrolegends.com .

“Raconte-moi” de Véronique Tadjo / “Tell me” from Véronique Tadjo

Raconte-moi

La parole du Griot

Qui chante l’Afrique

Des temps immémoriaux

Il dit

Ces rois patients

Sur les cimes du silence

Et la beauté des vieux

Aux sourires fanés

Mon passé revenu

Du fond de ma mémoire

Comme un serpent totem

A mes chevilles lié

Ma solitude

Et mes espoirs brisés

Qu’apporterais-je

A mes enfants

Si j’ai perdu leur âme ?

Tell me

The word of the Griot

Who sings Africa

From times immemorial

He says

These patient kings

On the peaks of silence

And the beauty of the old ones

With faded smiles

My past returned

From the depths of my memory

Like a totem snake

To my ankles linked

My loneliness

And my hopes shattered

What will I brink

To my children

If I lost their soul?

“Je vous Remercie Mon Dieu” de Bernard B. Dadie / “I Thank You God” from Bernard Binlin Dadie

Today, We will look at a poem by the most celebrated Ivorian writer Bernard Binlin Dadié.  The poem below is titled “I Thank you God” or “I thank you my God,” and it is an ode to us Africans, raising the self-esteem.  Dadié writes here about his pride of being born Black, around independence, when the colonizer had almost beaten out of us our pride of being Black, our pride of being ‘us’.  Enjoy! a great poem from Bernard B. Dadié.

Je vous remercie mon Dieu,             de m’avoir créé Noir,
d’avoir fait de moi
la somme de toutes les douleurs,
mis sur ma tête,
le Monde.
J’ai la livrée du Centaure
Et je porte le Monde depuis le premier matin.

Le blanc est une couleur de circonstance
Le noir, la couleur de tous les jours
Et je porte le Monde depuis le premier soir.

Je suis content
de la forme de ma tête
faite pour porter le Monde,
Satisfait
de la forme de mon nez
Qui doit humer tout le vent du Monde,
Heureux
de la forme de mes jambes
Prêtes à courir toutes les étapes du Monde.

Je vous remercie mon Dieu, de m’avoir créé Noir,
d’avoir fait de moi,
la somme de toutes les douleurs.
Trente-six épées ont transpercé mon coeur.
Trente-six brasiers ont brûlé mon corps.
Et mon sang sur tous les calvaires a rougi la neige,
Et mon sang à tous les levants a rougi la nature.

Je suis quand même
Content de porter le Monde,
Content de mes bras courts
de mes bras longs
de l’épaisseur de mes lèvres.

Je vous remercie mon Dieu, de m’avoir créé Noir,
Je porte le Monde depuis l’aube des temps
Et mon rire sur le Monde,
dans la nuit
crée le jour.

I thank you God,                               for making me black,
for making me
the sum of all pains,
putting on my head
the world.
I took the world to the Centaur
And I have carried the world since the first morning.

White is a color of                               circumstance
Black is the color of every day
And I have carried the world since the first evening.

I am happy
with the shape of my head
shaped to carry the world,
Satisfied
with the shape of my nose
which has to smell all the scents of the world,
Happy
with the shape of my legs
ready to run all the steps of the           world.

I thank you God, for having created me black
for having made me
the sum of all pains.
Thirty-six swords have pierced my heart.
Thirty-six brasiers have burned my body.
And my blood for all the suffering reddened the snow,
And my blood made the                      east red.

I am still
Happy to carry the world,
happy with my short arms
                of my long arms
                        of my thick lips.

I thank you God, for having created me black,
I carry the world since the beginning of times
And my laughter on the world,
                 at night
                      created the day.