"Writing is a post-traumatic symptom:
we're born screaming
surprised to exist
and everything that follows is a search for a sign
that can hold the scream of birth."
translated by Kira Josefsson
The sewage leaks onto the street,
The pipes have been clogged up since the migrant crisis and the dirt seeps into the cobble stones.
The Africans, the Arabs, the Philipinos, the Indians, the Pakistanis, the Bengladeshis, the Muslims, the Turks, the Romanians, the Albanians, the Bulgarians, the Poles, the Czechs. The sewage.
Keep it off the street, it’s dirty.
When it leaks out and floods the Piazza’s, collect quickly and quietly.
Put it to work scrubbing your toilet,
Make use of the women, preferably on their backs.
Never show kindness, when the sewage smiles at you, scoff at it.
When the sewage asks for help with directions, walk quickly, clutch your bag and do not look at it.
When the sewage complains about all this, tell it it's not just you, no one anywhere in the world likes sewage.
On the bus, do not sit next to it, it might stink.
On the street call it negro, indio, kuli, chink, china, terrorista
The sewage, me, us.
We are the wastewater produced by Western Europe and America.
Our countries have nursed the West into first world countries while we became 3rd, 4th, and even 10th. So we follow our mineral resources right into the countries that hate us.
We leak onto their streets and leave the stench of our countries, a malodour of shattered hope.
We come from lands that are ours but countries that are not.
We come from continents that are ours with realities that are not.
Our bodies are ours but their interpretation is not in our control.
Europe hates when the sewage leaks, but never asks itself what it did to make it congest.
Europe hates responsibility but still holds the plunger in their hands and expects us to unblock the drain.
We are the plumbing of this continent so why can’t we leak out into it and enjoy our wealth?
The sewage leaks out onto the street,
The Africans, the Arabs, the Philipinos, the Indians, the Pakistanis, the Bengladeshis, the Muslims, the Turks, the Romanians, the Albanians, the Bulgarians, the Poles, the Czechs.
The slum, the labour, the flavour, the culture.
The blacks, the browns, the yellows, the white trash, the terrorists.
The flood, the deluge, the storm, the cyclone.
The natural disaster that will not be ignored.
-Still Finding My Name
25 May 2020: Being of Colour in Countries that Hate Us