A voice
\nThe voice<\/p>\n
<\/a>Ngondo Moyula1<\/sup><\/a>, what does the voice of the father say? _______________<\/span><\/p>\n The tears of the mother are a snowy mausoleum. A voice The murmur of the mother\u2019s voice gets louder. Let\u2019s leave it to find its way. A voice <\/a>Nzambi3<\/sup><\/a>, what does the ancestor\u2019s voice say? <\/a>Barambo4<\/sup><\/a>, what does the sister\u2019s voice say? The shadow of death has no age, it is always green. Beauty without a name is always called drunkenness. _______________<\/span><\/p>\n A voice <\/a>Kayimuinda Ndjo5<\/sup><\/a>, what does the brother\u2019s voice say? The north doesn\u2019t always begin at the south. _______________<\/span><\/p>\n A voice <\/a>Ntolle Mbuyi6<\/sup><\/a>, what does the mother\u2019s voice say? A bruised people is not healed by becoming brutal in its turn. _______________<\/span><\/p>\n A voice <\/a>Ngosi Tulema7<\/sup><\/a>, what does the mother\u2019s voice say? Those without voices and without microphones survive. _______________<\/span><\/p>\n A voice Grief is never more than a house being rebuilt. _______________<\/span><\/p>\n A voice The great elephant, shaking its trunk, spoke at last: I am the voice which is in every man The great elephant, dissatisfied with this answer, asked:<\/p>\n So which of your children must I obey? Where is the country of my dreams located? The voice becoming contemptuous: The Ancestor clearing his throat spoke up first as the wise one and said: Any man who carries hatred in his mother tongue will never reach the country of the wise.<\/p>\n _______________<\/span><\/p>\n Birth coming out of the greenish latrines said: Charity perched on a mango tree spoke up and said: Death, feeling excluded, got up, pulling back its blanket of bones and thorns, and said: Goodness, frustrated at feeling part of its attributes stolen, cried to the pedlar winds: Love, playing with its dolls, dropped the Man figure in the hay and put the Woman in its pocket, without a heart of course.<\/p>\n Treachery finally, wishing to restore its honour, said: Do not call the noble who changes side to save youth in danger ungrateful.<\/p>\n Illusion, descending from its chair, said: The laughing monkeys at the top of their fruit tree started to sing : Need said: Don\u2019t stir yourself to go and look for things which are out of reach, apart from that patience is the invisible hand.<\/p>\n Exile, lighting a fire of hope, said this: when wandering stops being a condition and becomes second nature the poet at last reaches the country of his dreams.<\/p>\n An exasperated voice coming from a reed and taking the form of a blinding light said: God sends prophets on earth when he gives up on an arduous task, peace is an arduous task even in the country of my dreams.<\/p>\n On the corner of a table the last piece of the universal declaration of human rights burned slowly.<\/p>\n _______________<\/span><\/p>\n <\/a>1<\/sup> Escaped convict from history\u2191<\/a> A voice The voice Ngondo Moyula1, what does the voice of the father say? Let’s listen to it. _______________ The tears of the mother are a snowy mausoleum. The virgin is a naked plant who runs in the meadows. In the country of my ancestors: on the edges of the city Joal the heaviest rain […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":22,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"spay_email":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false},"categories":[14],"tags":[25],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6Jypy-18s","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4368"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/22"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4368"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4368\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10304,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4368\/revisions\/10304"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4368"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4368"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4368"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nLet’s listen to it.<\/p>\n
\nThe virgin is a naked plant who runs in the meadows.
\nIn the country of my ancestors: on the edges of the city Joal the heaviest rain never wets the heart. The gorges of Diosso are the proof that humanity has shed tears.
\nThe story of the evening overturns the certainties of the day.
\nSolitude is to turn your back on the world.
\nSadness is when the world turns its back on you.
\nA morning with a brown sun announces the end of the world,
\n_____<\/span>at least for those who have something to lose.<\/p>\n
\nThe voice
\n<\/a>Tchimpadou2<\/sup><\/a>, what does the mother\u2019s voice say?
\nLet\u2019s listen to it.<\/p>\n
\nNothingness is the rosary of our absurd interrogations.
\nA tired cloud sits on the summit of Kilimanjaro.
\nThe soul is a place where one finds oneself alone with one\u2019s Me.
\nWhen the palm tree lies down the palm wine continues to flow.
\nThe heart is a pebble soaked in emotion. Dried out, it reveals the hardness of human nature.
\nThe steps of the dance are lighter in the hail.
\nTo hope is to doze in destiny\u2019s diligence waiting for the jolt which wakes you up.
\nWe wash the body more deeply and the spirit longer.<\/p>\n
\nThe voice<\/p>\n
\nLet\u2019s listen to it.
\nWhen the wizard tells you to get up and dance, do it.
\nYou don\u2019t eat fish with its scales.
\nSolitude is bought. If it\u2019s sold at a good price man is a God. If\u2019 it\u2019s sold too dear, God is a man.
\nThe roots of the wind are not found in the sky but under the water.
\nThe arrow of time is not always turned towards the future.
\nThe search for oneself has an element of suicide.
\nLife comes from water, and this water is the mirror of truth and of and what we will become.
\nOnly children and sea winds carry the values of tomorrow.
\nTransformations are slow but always deep
\nA voice
\nThe voice<\/p>\n
\nLet\u2019s listen to it.<\/p>\n
\nWe resemble the wounds of our past.<\/p>\n
\nRain falls from the trees, knowledge is born of chimneys and my love feeds on your desertion.
\nThe possible can always be grasped in reality.
\nMemory and justice are not luxuries for the oppressed.
\nTo voyage among men is to lose one\u2019s humanity.
\nA man who loses his roots doesn\u2019t necessarily grow wings.
\nRecognition of slavery is collective, liberation is personal.<\/p>\n
\nThe voice<\/p>\n
\nLet\u2019s listen to it.<\/p>\n
\nHumanitarian aid is a balm without effect.
\nIf you cross Conventions Place you often find yourself on the Boulevard of Preconceived Ideas.
\nOnly prison makes true wandering possible.
\nIt\u2019s often when knocking on the door of recognition that the hero is assassinated.
\nWhen a man can\u2019t live on the land of his ancestors, he settles down in the land of his imagination.
\nThis great chief of a thousand parties and a hundred palaces does not blame the crickets for the famine in his village. Instead he looks in the gourd which contains his lack of wisdom and foresight.
\nThe man who disciplines his inner chaos rises towards wisdom.
\nThe time of truth opens the time of sacrifices.<\/p>\n
\nThe voice<\/p>\n
\nLet\u2019s listen to it.<\/p>\n
\nA passive people is a guilty people.
\nOn coming back from the country of legends the artist can bring forth jewels from the mire.
\nThe wise man should not be ashamed of his milk teeth.
\nEvery morning at the foot of Kilimanjaro we witness the awakening of a giant or the putting to death of a world.
\nWe share the youth of the universe.
\nMemory and justice are not luxuries for the poor.
\nLet us drink of death to go and bury a dream.
\nI am just a murmur of the wind in the desert of Kalahan.
\nMy civilization is a besieged nation.<\/p>\n
\nThe voice<\/p>\n
\nLet\u2019s listen to it.<\/p>\n
\nHere, no-one knows who of the soul or the body arrives first at the cemetery.
\nOn this earth, the last hours are not the dearest.
\nGoing to the top of the hill, ungrateful steps often crush the most beautiful flowers which make the journey sweet.
\nThe people is a lazy animal.
\nThe hero is a being without scars.
\nIf the crab fishing is bad, the fisherman goes around the island again.
\nThe lion has the antelope\u2019s prudence.
\nWhen a village is built on water, you need at least one canoe.<\/p>\n
\nThe voice
\nA voice from the country of my dreams<\/p>\n
\nThe one who cuts short the argument should not have one foot in need.
\nFrom Timbuktu to Montreal via Dakar heading for Huito the sons of exile will always find refuge.<\/p>\n
\nThe voice
\nA voice from the country of my dreams<\/p>\n
\n_____<\/span>–_____<\/span> Who are you, voice of my journey?
\n_____<\/span>–_____ <\/span>Who are you, voice which seems one and many at the same time?<\/p>\n
\nListen to it or ignore it!
\nI am the voice which knows everything
\nI am the voice which accompanies humanity
\nSince the beginning of time
\nI am the voice which guides you towards the country of your dreams.<\/p>\n
\nI never sleep, how can I dream?<\/p>\n
\nThe elements express themselves freely. I let them speak because only they can answer your questions.<\/p>\n
\nThe last of Men by flush away all memory of peace, the country of my dreams will be nothing but an awkward shadow.<\/p>\n
\nWhat I give with the heart is a ripe fruit, the rest is just bitter lemonade.
\nIn the country of my dreams the beggars will be bilingual.<\/p>\n
\nI am goodness because I am the only certainty. Beggars can be bilingual and speak the language of their ancestors and of the new master, only my language of desolation will remain unique even in the country of your dreams.<\/p>\n
\nNo-one who brings desolation and grief can represent me, Love is mine. In the country of dreams son, language and sentiments alone will bring men together.<\/p>\n
\nI should have the last word because I offer the illusion of a rich life in a peaceful world to humanity in perpetual mourning.<\/p>\n
\nPeace is a fine word, give us bananas and wine and we will offer you peace.<\/p>\n
\n<\/a>2<\/sup> Female head of the Soko clan. Tribe from the dense forest of Central Africa which inherited 1000 words at the start of life. Everyone who dies takes 30 words to go and speak to the dead. Each newborn arrives with one word. The Soko people will only find speech again when the original 1000 words are reunited\u2191<\/a>
\n<\/a>3<\/sup> All powerful God, the creator\u2191<\/a>
\n<\/a>4<\/sup> Prince of minerals, first of the dead buried in the city of the wind\u2191<\/a>
\n<\/a>5<\/sup> Dried up steam\u2191<\/a>
\n<\/a>6<\/sup> He who gives out vices\u2191<\/a>
\n<\/a>7<\/sup> He who barks the truth\u2191<\/a><\/p>\nLanda wo<\/a><\/h6>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"