Poetry in a Global Box: Jamhuri ya Uganda (Republic of Uganda)

Susan N. Kiguli

ISBN: 9970901001

I am tired of talking in metaphors

I will talk plainly

Because I am moved to abandon riddles.

I will tell you how we held our heads

In our hands

Because the owl hooted throughout the night

And the dogs howled as if in mourning:

We awaited bad news

We received it

Our mother blinded in one eye

Crippled in the right leg

Because she did not vote

Her husband‘s candidate.

I will remind you

Of the time the peeled plantains

Stood upright in the cooking pot

We slaughtered a cock

Anticipating an important visitor

We got her:

Our daughter – pieces of flesh in a sack –

Our present from her husband.

No, I will not use images

I will just talk to you:

I do not fight to take your place

Or constantly wave my fist in your face.

I refuse to argue about

Your „manly pact“

With my father –

Buying me for a bag of potatoes and pepper.

All I want

Is to stop denying Me

My presence needs no metaphors,

I am here

Just as you are.

I am not a machine

For you to dismantle whenever you whim

I demand for my human dignity.

Susan N. Kiguli

Susan N. Kiguli: Zuhause treibt in der Ferne

PART OF US HAS BEEN UNDONE

We cut down the pines

So the flowers may thrive

We cut down the pines

And as our saws touched

The sap

Of the towering trees

We shed tears

But knew the flowers

Had to live

And the trees had to move.

Logs now float on the river

And the mountainside is bare

The dense green has gone

In its place is a fragile light.

The Sky watches cautiously

As we toy with new dreams

Uncertain of the sudden

Emptiness.

Susan N. Kiguli

ISBN: 978-3-88423-404-4

EIN TEIL VON UNS VERTAN

Wir fällten die Pinien

Damit die Blumen sich entfalten sollten

Wir fällten die Pinien

Und als unsere Sägen

Auf das Harz stießen

In den turmhohen Bäumen

Weinten wir

Aber wußten, die Blumen

Sollten überleben

Und die Bäume weichen.

Jetzt treiben die Stämme auf dem Fluß

Und die Abhänge sind kahl

Das dichte Grün vergangen

An seiner Stelle ein zerbrechliches Licht.

Der Himmel blickt zögernd

Wie wir mit den neuen Träumen spielen

Ungewiß in der plötzlichen

Leere.

Susan N. Kiguli