January 31, 2017
Poets of Color/Professor
Elmaz Abinader
Mimi (Rose) Gonzalez-Barillas
Response to:
An Instance of an Island, by Patrick Rosal
Carols, Long Before and Shortly After, San Martincito,
Of Mule and Deer, Anamorphosis, by
Farid Matuk
Language for a New Century poets:
· Saadi Youssef
· Phåm Tiên Duât (a,e,a incorrect accents)
· Mahmoud Darwish
· Asadullah Habib
This
week’s reading points us in the direction of “home;” more accurately, place – that great continuum against
which time exercises its never-ending story.
Taken as a whole, these poems and poets offer readers a sense of how the
land in which we are reared, becomes the soil of our skin wherever we travel on
our own personal journey. From the start
of our lives as children and as our parent’s wards into the claiming of our
identity as we learn to stand by and for ourselves, never far from the arms
that held us, nor separate from the eyes made of the soil and parental terra
from which we are made.
There
is an inherent loyalty to the land upon which we learned life. Conversely, there is also a migratory urge, a
wanderlust inhabiting our animal selves that drives us to discover “what’s out
there.” We learned to forage for food
that follows seasons; to seek the sun’s light and follow the sky. We’re born to look, to seek out. No matter how far we go, home and motherland
accompanies us. Even when we have to run
from our motherland and seek refuge in a new land because our brothers are paid
to attack us or because the savior sent to relieve us from a tyrant who’s stolen
our land and identity then becomes our abuser.
Saadi
Youssef’s poem, “America, America”[1]
indicates a different kind of place, when an invading army infiltrates home. This Iraqi poet’s love for his home is
illustrated through all of the examples he gives of its simple landmarks: the date
palm, the mulberry tree, water buffalos and feasts. He also reveals an insightful level of
familiarity with the dominant American culture by noting jeans, jazz, Mark
Twain. What’s astonishing is his deep
awareness of what the American culture needs as he’s addressing the country:
“Let’s
exchange gifts…
“Take
your blueprints for model penitentiaries
and
give us village homes.”[2]
This
passage and two other couplets from this section found me exclaiming out loud,
alone in my apartment, “Wow.” What
America has sought to inflict on his country, he demands they retract. In the same breath, he elucidates in such
fine succinct prose, what America is doing to its own populace: building
prisons instead of homes. The passage
continues,
“Take
the stripes of your flag
and
give us the stars.
Take
the Afghani mujahideen’s beard
and
give us Walt Whitman’s beard filled with butterflies.”[3]
Here
is an Iraqi, so familiar with what is important in America, not his home,
addressing Americans on the territory of our homeland through references
significant and specific to America. How
many American’s could muster what’s in Whitman’s beard? And Youssef is willing to trade this American
poet’s beard for that of his regional neighbor.
All
of the poets in this week’s selection speak to where they began and where they
currently are. Some have never left and
don’t have wanderlust. Some can’t leave
because of economic or travel restrictions; especially reinforced through this
week’s racist travel ban on Muslims - legal, vetted residents.
There
was an echo forward from Youssef who stood out for me. In the cited poem, he dismisses our massive
cities and edifices for his home. “I
need the village, not New York.”[4] The same anthology and assignment included Phåm
Tiên Duât who too mentioned the village saying “These days every village must
be a great city.”[5] This poet travels so far within the poem “In
the Labor Market at Giang Vo.” He cites
stacks of food and comments on the rich using up any laborer from anywhere to
build their many homes. Progress has
come in the form of construction. But
it’s still the village. A village that
survived the Vietnam war and is now a suburb of Hanoi. It still wears its history in the scar on the
worker’s face and that returns the poet to what this village was in the midst
of what it’s becoming.
Mimi, I think you really captured the conflict of wanting to remain true to one's homeland yet needing to make a completely different life in a foreign land when you write, "we're born to look, seek out." You make very worthwhile points. As humans, we are programmed to explore and travel yet we are also wired to crave routine and familiarity. I think about simply traveling for a week to visit family, having routine disrupted. For the speakers of many of these poems about immigration, their whole routine and sense of familiarity has been uprooted and they know they may never hear the same sounds or taste recipes made just the right way. The "mundane" is so important, your response really illuminated that for me.
ReplyDeleteMimi,
ReplyDelete“Home is a place you carry with- “land becomes the soil of our skin”- all great lines that capture the work. Well written Mimi.
A line from one of my favorite artist Erykah Badu speaks to the ‘home” that is always with us, Badu sings,“ I have a home, and I take it every where I go, I’m planting seeds so I reap what I sew,…” I think this line not only carries its on weight, but fits into the lines of the poets we read. The issue being is if the next generations are in fact carrying their home with them. Do they have the same sense of the “mother land” you write about. As Pham Tien Duat writes,”A new sky means new clouds… no lack of work but this new life gives birth to new lines of workers.” And Habib writes, “where are the old story tellers to tell the story of my country where is one listener.” New lines of works under new skies of grey, with no one to tell them of home, and t a lack of hears to listen, what does that lead to? We must keep writing and keep listening because I don’t want to live in a world where I forget where home is.
Mimi,
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed reading your response to these poems, very well written! I think that when you explained- "these poems and poets offer readers a sense of how the land in which we are reared, becomes the soil of our skin wherever we travel on our own personal journey" entirely captures the idea of the poems and the poets who have each their own personal and engraved identity captured within these poems that deal with their own space and how they each perceive and are perceived based on that space.
Daisy
Great Mimi,
ReplyDeletei sat with the same quote as Tyrice, "how the land in which we are reared, becomes the soil of our skin wherever we travel on our own personal journey" This suggests a geographical imperative, a place where our body naturally fits and in the many forced and voluntary migrations, i believe the poets suggest they are lost, but they adjust or die, like Josefina. Thanks for working so hard on this, but you don't have to put footnotes in blog, the pieces are short enough for me and others to find the reference. Very well done.
e
Hi Mimi! Sorry for the late comment, I've been horrendously ill! Anyways, I think you captured the duality of, essentially, what is home-yet-not-home so well here: "This Iraqi poet’s love for his home is illustrated through all of the examples he gives of its simple landmarks: the date palm, the mulberry tree, water buffalos and feasts. He also reveals an insightful level of familiarity with the dominant American culture by noting jeans, jazz, Mark Twain. What’s astonishing is his deep awareness of what the American culture needs" This really hit me hard. I have a lot of similar feelings to what you articulated here. My family is from Singapore, and though I know the basics of "American Culture", I know so many more intimate details of Singapore because thats what I truly loved and reminded me of my mother's love. I treasure the little things like when I find mangosteen at the grocery store, or hear someone with a hokkien accent in a video, or a warm, heavy rain storm comes. Its hard when one thing is sort of "technically" your home, but one feels more so, and they seem to be hurting each other all the time. It feels like you have to make a choice.
ReplyDelete