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Poetry

Linguistic Threads, translated by Candice Whitney

By Rahma Nur
Translated from Italian by Candice Whitney
You choose a transactional language / that lets you through the gates
Rahma Nur Reads "Fili Linguistici" in the Original Italian
 
 

Afro-Italian poet Rahma Nur describes her experience as a member of a diaspora living in Italy, noting how language marks the body and how it shapes one’s sense of loss.

In the step that you take
Between the land that watched over your birth
And the soil that received you
There’s a thread that connects them
Like an IV.
It feeds you words and phrases
Clauses and long sentences
You can’t analyze them
And you let them flow into you
Between the red blood cells that run through your veins
In your epidermis, dark and smooth
That doesn’t allow for speculation
But a final judgment call:
hadaad soomaali tahay maxaad somali ugu hadlin?1
Or
Come parli bene l’italiano!2
Here and there
Muteness takes over
The only sure response
Is a nonresponse.

They say that words are music
They say that words are nourishment
They say that words are art
But they don’t say that words create
Confusion
Disorder
Discomfort
They separate
They torment
They muzzle
In front of other words
They don’t tell you that words are language
That there are many languages
That not everyone owns them
That the mother tongue
Can become the stepmother
And the stepmother becomes motherly
That they are not interchangeable, not always
And that you can spend a whole life
Without speaking one even if
Another two or three languages are in you.
The mother tongue heals
But it can make you sick
If you don’t speak it well
And if you connect yourself with the stepmother one
Like a spring that nurtures you.

When the diaspora
Takes you from one country to another
You choose a transactional language
That lets you get through the gates
Real and imagined
A code
That opens doors
And in the vacuum that you live in
Others are born and grow
And the distance between siblings expands
There remains a single connecting thread
It’s not Somali, Dutch, or Swedish languages
But hands, skin, eyes
Your entire body
To fill that empty space
From one country to another.
It’s the external covering
That tacitly answers questions,
That speaks for you,
Because your mouth is made mute
By all the languages that invaded it.

___________________________________________________________________________

1. If you are Somali why don’t you speak Somali?

2. Wow, you speak Italian so well!

“Fili linguistici” first published in Formafluens vol. 2, no. 1, January–April 2020 (pages 17–18). © Rahma Nur. By arrangement with the author. Translation © 2021 by Candice Whitney. All rights reserved.

English Italian (Original)

Afro-Italian poet Rahma Nur describes her experience as a member of a diaspora living in Italy, noting how language marks the body and how it shapes one’s sense of loss.

In the step that you take
Between the land that watched over your birth
And the soil that received you
There’s a thread that connects them
Like an IV.
It feeds you words and phrases
Clauses and long sentences
You can’t analyze them
And you let them flow into you
Between the red blood cells that run through your veins
In your epidermis, dark and smooth
That doesn’t allow for speculation
But a final judgment call:
hadaad soomaali tahay maxaad somali ugu hadlin?1
Or
Come parli bene l’italiano!2
Here and there
Muteness takes over
The only sure response
Is a nonresponse.

They say that words are music
They say that words are nourishment
They say that words are art
But they don’t say that words create
Confusion
Disorder
Discomfort
They separate
They torment
They muzzle
In front of other words
They don’t tell you that words are language
That there are many languages
That not everyone owns them
That the mother tongue
Can become the stepmother
And the stepmother becomes motherly
That they are not interchangeable, not always
And that you can spend a whole life
Without speaking one even if
Another two or three languages are in you.
The mother tongue heals
But it can make you sick
If you don’t speak it well
And if you connect yourself with the stepmother one
Like a spring that nurtures you.

When the diaspora
Takes you from one country to another
You choose a transactional language
That lets you get through the gates
Real and imagined
A code
That opens doors
And in the vacuum that you live in
Others are born and grow
And the distance between siblings expands
There remains a single connecting thread
It’s not Somali, Dutch, or Swedish languages
But hands, skin, eyes
Your entire body
To fill that empty space
From one country to another.
It’s the external covering
That tacitly answers questions,
That speaks for you,
Because your mouth is made mute
By all the languages that invaded it.

___________________________________________________________________________

1. If you are Somali why don’t you speak Somali?

2. Wow, you speak Italian so well!

“Fili linguistici” first published in Formafluens vol. 2, no. 1, January–April 2020 (pages 17–18). © Rahma Nur. By arrangement with the author. Translation © 2021 by Candice Whitney. All rights reserved.

Fili Linguistici

In quel passo che allunghi
tra la terra che ti ha visto nascere
e il suolo che ti ha accolto
c’è un filo che li lega
come una flebo.
Ti nutre di parole e frasi
di proposizioni e lunghi periodi
non puoi analizzarli
e li lasci fluire in te
tra i globuli rossi che attraversano le tue vene
nella tua epidermide scura e liscia
che non permette congetture
ma giudizi perentori:
hadaad soomaali tahay maxaad somali ugu hadlin?
o
come parli bene l’italiano!
Di qua e di là
il mutismo la fa da padrone
l’unica risposta certa
è una non risposta.
Dicono che le parole sono musica
dicono che le parole sono cibo
dicono che le parole sono arte
ma non dicono che le parole creano
confusione
disordine
disagio
allontanano
tormentano
ammutoliscono
davanti ad altre parole
non ti dicono che le parole sono lingua
che le lingue sono tante
che non tutti le posseggono
che la lingua materna
può diventare matrigna
e quella matrigna diventare materna
che non sono intercambiabili, non sempre
Se sei somala perché non parli il somalo?
e che si può trascorrere una vita intera
senza parlarne una benché
altre due o tre siano dentro te.
La lingua materna cura
ma può far ammalare
se non la parli bene
e ti leghi a quella matrigna
come una fonte che ti nutre.
Quando la diaspora
ti trasporta da un paese all’altro
scegli un linguaggio veicolare
che ti fa attraversare varchi
reali e immaginari
un codice
che apre porte
e in questo vacuum in cui vivi
altri nascono e crescono
e la distanza tra fratelli si dilata
rimane un unico filo che unisce
non è il somalo, l’olandese, lo svedese,
ma le mani, la pelle, gli occhi,
il tuo corpo intero
a riempire quel vuoto
da un paese all’altro.
E’ l’involucro esterno
che risponde tacito alle domande,
che parla per te,
perché la tua bocca è resa muta
dalle troppe lingue che l’hanno invasa.

© Rahma Nur. By arrangement with the author. All rights reserved.

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