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ARTS AND CULTURE

Miscellaneous notes on Rwanda

  • 03 March 2009

Nature Hyacinth beans are ripe But no-one is there to pick them. The breeze is drunk But who is there to lean against? Things in nature Come and go naturally

No need For a rose To thank Sunshine Or rain Miscellaneous notes on Ruanda (1) 1. Armadu Armadu he's so fat He's got the beer belly But I'm sure not from drinking beer

Armadu he's so poor That he can't afford the beer He straddles his taxi on a ride

Armadu he's so black I'm only saying that he's naturally black Strongly black, good-heartedly black

Armadu he's so white His teeth shining white Like a row of fluorescent lamps by broad daylight

Fatty Armadu His belly like A huge sack his body can't support

Poor Armadu His sixth son is crying, 'Daddy' As his wife is pregnant with his seventh

Blackman Armadu He drove for the construction company He spoke Mandarin with a north-eastern accent

Armadu, ah, Armadu He 'ha-ha's as soon as he starts talking He laughs: ha, ha, ha, ha, ha ...

Armadu, ah, Armadu He rides his bike like a taxi He's leaning against the wall, having nothing to do

As soon as he sees me, he strides up Towards me. We raise our right hands As they hit in the air with a 'flap'!

Then he laughs out loud Who knows what he is laughing about? Shaking the tiny supermarket next door this way and that

Every time, looking at him laughing loudly I thought to myself: Armadu's belly must be full of a poor man's joy. What kind of future What kind of insomnia is it That steeled your heart to a union with me? What kind of disease is it that physically Destroyed me and helped me see the future through?

'We have been in love for so many years ...' You said, sounding like a bud just pinched

Days like ellipsis dots. Pleasure In pain. Two raw eggs for a roll Of jianbing guozi*. Running up to the 14th floor at one go ... A burning heart keeping the northwesterly outside the body.

'You'll see what I mean in the future ...' I said, foreshadowing our lives.

Days patching days up. Bickering And brabbling, nothing really matters. In the scabbed Hearts blood running as joyfully ... Two leaves fallen to the ground finding it hard to take root.

'Future after future…' And you, are working out how to meet it

But what kind of future is that, if it makes me Jumpy, and sleepless? And what kind of future is that, if it makes you Sun yourself on one side as the other side goes paralytic?

'I now see what you meant then ...' The