Errancias madrugales

this blog was intended to be a verbal purging of sorts. So here´s to this "finalidad".

I:

I´m listening to Idir, the Algerian berber, "cantante de rai". I was first introduced to his music from the film "Dimanche Incha Allah" and i immediately fell in love with both the film and the sound track. It was one of those movies where the strenght and perseverance of the Arab woman in addition to the beastly mother in law and the violent, insensitive husband, submissive to only his mother were once again the pieces to this scenario set in France during the law of family regroupment passed by Chirac. anyway, back to Idir. the cd is entitled "Idir, deux rives un reve" and almost all the songs are in bereber. When i recently acquired them, my favourite was in fact "Identités", a compilation of a variety of his songs remixed. They are just lovely. there are two which i really like, one is with Manu Chao and is titled "A Tulawin" and another is a spanish flamenco mix with the french gypsy Titi Robyn and the spanish Paco el Lobo entitled "Fable". Well, what is it that attracts me so much to this music? Well, it was the sound of this flute initially which seemed to draw you hypnotically to the sounds. But then i also began to be drawn by Idir´s cool, sensual, tranquil voice which really swept me away...

II


-Chile, you must learn to talk proper english, with the accent like dem real british people..
-But mammy, dat does sound so ugly, i like meh accent, people say ah does talk nice
-gyul, yuh crazy ah wat?? only poor coolie people does talk like you. why yuh think ah send yuh to school and sacrifice so much for? Ah want yuh to make meh proud.
-ok, mummy, ah go try but it does be real hard, yuh know. Besides, when ah talk with accent, everybody does laugh at meh...
-doh study dem, one day, it go be you who go laugh, you just wait an see. You is the one dat go mek meh proud. doh forget...

Some people tell me ah lucky to talk english. thank God, the british colonise we. Because now, everybody want to learn english and we already know it. It doh matter if ah does talk broken or if meh grammar real bad, but i cud manage and i cud read dem texts of British culture dey want to push dong we throat in school. It real funny the history dey does teach we in school. it kinda amnesiac so when yuh reach the age of twenty, yuh doh even know nothing about the Black Revolution in 1970 but yuh know about the First and Second World Wars. We doh know nothing about we neighbours, or about we own geography, but we know all dem lyrics they does pong we in de radio and all dem brands and styles that come out in the States. We does feel proud to wear dem T Shirts with the American flag or the Statue of Liberty. We does hide we face to make de line infront of Marley Street to get we visa. We ent mind spending the night in the street to make sure we get in. but when we come off the plane, just back from the Big Apple, we feel like a shilling to sport we imitation brands and we new accent.. I just came back from America.. you cud hear dem say...


III

That´s when i knew that fucking english was a curse. Ha!!! I thought by speaking the language of the civilised, I too was part of them, even though my accent was different. It didn´t matter if i had citizenship. My colour was my measuring stick. the browner I was, the further I was differentiated from them. I could not be like them, no. Even if i spoke better than half of them. I wasn´t to watch them in their eyes, i was to follow all their orders. I had become their slave after my ancestors were emancipated.