Citation du livre “L’éternel mari” écrit par Fédor Dostoievsky

A son avis, l’essence de ces maris consistaient en ceci qu’ils devaient être , pour ainsi dire, des “éternels maris” ou, pour mieux dire, qu’ils devaient être dans la vie uniquement des maris, et rien d’autre. “Un homme de ce genre-là naît et grandit seulement pour se marier, et, une fois marié, pour se transformer en un complément de sa femme, même dans le cas où il pourrait avoir son propre caractère à lui, indiscutable. Le principal signe distinctif de ce genre de maris, c’est l’ornement qu’on sait. Il ne peut pas être cocu, exactement comme le soleil ne peut pas ne pas briller; et non seulement il n’est jamais en état de le savoir, mais, même, il n’est jamais en état de l’apprendre, d’après les lois de sa propre nature.”

Cita del libro “El Hablador” escrito por Mario Vargas Llosa

“Ahora me siento más tránquilo”, me dijo Tasurinchi, cuando me despedí de ellos, unas lunas después. “Ya no tendré más rabia, creo. Mucha he tenido, últimamente. Ahora ya no, tal vez. Hice bien poniendóme a andar, parece. Aquí en el pecho lo siento.”
“¿Cómo supiste que tenías que irte de allí?”, le pregunté.
“Me acordé de algo que nací sabiendo”, respondí. “O lo aprendería en la mareada, tal vez. Si un daño occurre en la tierra es porque la gente ya no presta atención, porque no la cuida como hay que cuidarla. ¿Puede la tierra hablar, como nosotros? Para decir lo que quiere, algo tendrá que hacer. Temblar, quizás. No se olviden de mí, diciendo. Yo también vivo, diciendo. No quiero que me maltraten. De eso estaría quejándose mientras bailoteaba, pues. Tal vez, los Padres Blancos no son lo que parecen, sino kamagarinis aliados de Kientibakori, y aconsejándome que viviera siempre allí querían hacerle daño a la tierra. Quién sabe. ¿Cómo ayudamos al sol, a los ríos? ¿Cómo ayudamos a este mundo, a lo que vive? Andando. He cumplido la obligación, creo. Mira, ya estará dando resultado. Escucha el suelo bajo tus pies; písalo, hablador. ¡Qué quieto y qué firme está! Se habrá puesto contento, ahora que de nuevo nos siente andando sobre él.”

Cita del libro “El Hablador” escrito por Mario Vargas Llosa

“Lo importante es no impacientarse y dejar que lo que tiene que occurrir ocurra”, me respondía. “Si el hombre vive tranquilo, sin impacientarse, tiene tiempo de reflexionar y de recordar”, diciendo. Así encontrará su destino, tal vez. Vivirá contento, quizás. Lo aprendido no se olvidará. Si se impacienta, adelantándose al tiempo, el mundo se enturbia, parece. Y el alma cae en una telaraña de barro. Eso es la confusión. Lo peor, dicen. En este mundo y en el alma del hombre que anda. Entonces, no sabe qué hacer, dónde ir. No sabe defenderse, tampoco, ¿qué he de hacer?, diciendo. Entonces los diablos y sus diablillos se entremeten en su vida y juegan con ella. Como los niños haciendo saltar a las ranas jugarán. Los errores se cometen siempre por la confusión, parece.

Citation from the book “Wizard of the Crow” (Mũrogi wa Kagogo) by Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o

“Does rough weather choose men over women? Does the sun beat on men, leaving women nice and cool?, Nyawira asked rather sharply.
Women wear the brunt of poverty. What choices does a woman have in life, especially in times of misery? She can marry or live with a man. She can bear children and bring them up, and be abused by her man. Have you read Buchi Emecheta of Nigeria, Joys of Motherhood? Tritsi Dangaremba of Zimbabwe, say, Nervous Conditions? Mariam Ba of Senegal, So Long a Letter? Three women from different parts of Africa, giving words to similar thoughts about the condition of women in Africa.”

The waitress

The repetition of her walk was light with ease, her figure clothed in uniform black. Plateau after plateau upon the table, “spring rolls, tempura prawns and salmon nigiri”, she said with a forced smile on her face, the oily condiments glistening on the table. How the popularity of this restaurant had remained stable throughout the years, she could not comprehend. Sometimes she wished for a client to cry out, throw their plates of food upon the ground, to throw a tantrum of discontent, but all that passed their lips, was silent smiles. Cheap food in monstrous amounts seemed to nourish the clients’ satisfaction; indeed the more food people ate, the more it seemed to make their taste buds fall asleep.

Yes it would have made pleasure glisten through her skin, had a client revolutionised against the food she was serving. She would have taken the abuse against the food, thrown at her; she would have taken it with suspicious effortlessness, would have painted an excusing smile on her face and thrown the glossy dishes with an impetus of gratification into the bin.

It was on a night in which a strand of hair that had escaped her bun had made her boss scowl at her. It was on an evening in which the rain did not refrain from enveloping the city, in which the clouds had cut out the sun and the existence of sky blue from their lives. The family had entered quietly, so un-pretentiously, that she only noticed them once they had sat down.

Niali Ndir

niali ndir

Après avoir aidé Yaye avec le diner, je descends au pied de l’île et regarde le soleil se coucher. Assise sur les rochers je contemple ce ballon doré se plonger dans la mer. Doucement, doucement comme s’il voulait rester encore un peu de notre côté, avant que la nuit sombre nous enveloppe.

Le ponton, normalement si rempli de personnes ; vendeurs, touristes, citadins, qu’on croirait qu’il pourrait s’effondre vers chaque moment, se trouve solitaire, délaissé aux vagues cassantes.

La mer, avec ses mille-et-uns yeux, appelle mon corps, encore prisonnier de cette chaleur écrasante qui fait partie de la saison des pluies. Avec l’agilité de la jeunesse, je grimpe sur le ponton et plonge dans l’eau. La mer caresse mon corps, le sel brule mes  yeux, mais je les garde grandement ouverts, tâtant les pierres avec mes mains, cherchant, cherchant quelque-chose de scintillant.

La première fois, j’avais cinq ans.

Yes, Zionism is Settler Colonialism

Shalom Rav

20090927

Is Zionism “settler colonialism?” It’s an important question that is increasingly invoked in public debates over Israel/Palestine – and BDS in particular.

While I personally do believe Israel to be a settler colonial state, I think it’s critical to understand what we mean when we use this term, what it means in the context of Israel/Palestine, and its implications for the wider struggle against systems of oppression in the US and throughout the world.

Let’s start with the definition itself. Many people use the term “settler colonialism” and “colonialism” interchangeably, but they are not in fact the same thing. Colonialism is defined by the Collins Dictionary as “the policy and practice of a power in extending control over weaker peoples or areas.” Historically speaking, it generally refers to specific European imperial powers during a period that lasted from the 16th to mid-20th centuries.

“Settler colonialism,” is a different concept…

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She Walks

She walks, the sand burying her feet, the wind whirling her hair about her face. The crash of waves… She walks closer to the edge of the wall, coldness and saltiness clamming at her. How free she felt! Dipping her legs amidst the tumultuous waves without being hurt… How wonderful. A calming pool that contains and releases hurling waves… she had never thought about that!

With the dark night sky, far away a stormy atmosphere, above her, the moon, the endless stars and nobody to see her, she forgets herself and feels so utterly… peaceful.

 

 

 

Picture : wallpapers13.com

Combattre le racisme avec des chatons

“Comme vous éprouvez tout de même une certaine culpabilité face à votre faible engagement pour le pays ou vous êtes née, de temps à autre vous vous obligez à réfléchir à une campagne de lutte contre le racisme; la peine de mort ayant déjà été abolie, il vous semble que c’est encore la meilleure manière d’être française, d’apporter votre pierre à l’édifice du progrès moral ininterrompu mais toujours perfectible de la patrie des droits de l’homme.
Pour combattre le racisme, la première chose serait de distribuer des nuanciers, il y a même des magasins de moquette qui en donnent gratuitement. En parallèle, il vous semble que le point important serait de faire comprendre qu’au-delà des différences, il y a une commune humanité. Vous regardez du coté des anthropologues, c’est leur travail après tout que d’identifier l’universel. Par exemple Claude Lévi-Strauss, la prohibition de l’inceste. Mais non. Trop compliqué, trop intello. Ce n’est pas très porteur comme slogan, les étrangers sont comme nous, eux non plus ne couchent pas avec leur mère. Vous cherchez encore. Il faudrait du concret, du pratique. Par exemple  une photographie avec des Asiatiques qui jouent de la pétanque en mangeant du camembert. Ils sont comme nous! Eux aussi aiment prendre du bon temps! Mauvaise pioche, le camembert et la pétanque c’est français et uniquement français, vous avez confondu l’Hexagone avec la Terre entière. Et pourquoi pas des chatons? Oh oui, les chatons, alors la, une grande affiche avec un Noir ou un Arabe ayant un petit chaton dans les bras, même s’il est coiffé de grandes plumes multicolores, même s’il vit dans une yourte sur la banquise, on se dira qu’au-delà des différences culturelles c’est la même tendresse. Eux aussi aiment les chatons mignons! Voila qui ferait tomber les barrières, pulvériserait les préjugés. Parce les chatons, l’amour des chatons, ça c’est vraiment universel.”

-Sorti du roman “Double nationalité” de Nina Yargekov

Ironic Identity

Why do you think immigrants, especially immigrants of second and third generation, tend to be more ‘patriotic’ than the people living in their own country?

This was the question my mother asked me this morning while we were discussing France’s upcoming election, the life of immigrants in France and Erdogan’s recent election success.

Why did most Turkish people living in Turkey vote against Erdogan, while those living outside of Turkey (Germany and the Netherlands for example), voted for him?
In the Netherlands 71 percent of Dutch-Turkish citizens voted for Erdogan. The only foreign country in which the ‘no’ vote prevailed was the United States. How can this be explained?

When I grew up in Australia, my identity was defined by society, by those around me. We cannot choose our identity; it is something forced upon us by the image we project of ourselves within our community.

When people see that you are different, perhaps in the manner you speak, that you dress and eat, they need to define you and distinguish you. Naturally, in order to understand the world around us, we have the tendency to classify everything. Thus as an immigrant to another country you are immediately classified and associated with a certain culture, in my case French culture.

And when somebody asks you for example, if you could suggest a good typical French song and you don’t know, you feel guilty. Guilty because you are French, this is your identity and you SHOULD know the whole range of French music. You should know Paris because this is your country of course! And worst of all, since you have never lived in this country with which you are so strongly identified with, you should know it from the depth of your heart.
All these cultural delicacies, these drops of French colloquialisms, these beautiful crumbs of French cuisine…

I am speaking of ironic identity because as an immigrant we have the tendency to exaggerate our nationality because we feel the need to reaffirm it whereas if you grow up in your own country you do not need to prove to anybody that you are Dutch for example.

It may be easier to integrate and to be considered ‘Australian’ if you are white (even though this is changing thanks to the multicultural composition of Australia! 🙂 but what if you are let’s say of Indian origin and were born in France, grew up there, have lived there all your life? To many French people you will be Indian. How can one reject an identity which is thrown upon us?

And thus this differentiation is created, which could explain why Dutch Turks or Hispanics in America for example, so forcefully reinforce their cultures. Ironically, and I am speaking of experience, when they go back to their country of origin, people tell them they are strangers…

 

Picture courtesy: Salvador Dali

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