Friday, November 30, 2018

Dependency






When loneliness keeps you company
Spring feels like a winter day
That does not start with sunrise
Nor ends with freezing rain

When memories keep you covered
Like a soldier’s blanket in a trench
Through its holes you can still see
Shooting stars above the trees

When a name has brown eyes
You lose yourself in cities of steel
Hoping to run away
From all that sounds like good-bye

But when your face has deeper wrinkles
Than the desert dunes after a storm
You call that name, in loneliness
And pull the blanket to your eyes

Your brown eyes

November 30, 2018
© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2018

Tuesday, November 27, 2018

Freedom-- Did Maslow Overestimate the Human Need for Shelter and Food?


I received a note from a dear Argentinean friend who had read my last poem “The Walls of Leyla” (https://vahezen.blogspot.com/2018/11/the-walls-of-layla.html)

He wrote:

“Indeed, Romeo and Juliette have existed through Majnun and Leyla centuries before Shakespeare wrote his version of that love story. But have you read “Dylana and Diram” by Saleem Barakat? It is the Kurdish version of Leyla and Juliette, Romeo and Majnun. I know years ago we had talked about your love of his writing style.”

Ha! “Years ago” was 1974, almost 45 years before we started our journey around the planet. In those years we were stuck in a city in war, with little electricity, dirty shelters, and uncertain future. During those days in Beirut, I read most of the days, any book that I could find in languages I knew.

And it was in 1976 when I read Saleem Barakat’s “The Iron Grasshopper” (Al-Jundab al-Hadidi) about the life of a Kurdish boy in Syria. The subtitle of the first section of the book read “"The unfinished memoir of a child who never saw anything but a fugitive land" which I understood well sitting in a shelter when bombs were falling in the neighborhood.

… Barakat is a Syrian-Kurdish writer born in Quamishli, where there used to be a sizable Armenian community. Many of my friends were also born in Quamishli and eventually became citizens of countries expanding from Australia to Europe and the Americas. We stayed in touch, sometimes because of serendipity. It was one of these friends who after hearing from me that I had indeed read extracts of Dylana and Diram, sent me Barakat’s “The Iron Grasshopper” this time in a French translation “Le Criquet de Fer” published in 1993.

“See if upon re-reading you will see what has changed in you in 50 years, and what has not.”
So I did.

… I do not speak nor understand Kurdish, but I have heard a lot of Kurdish in the streets growing up. I know a few words and a sentence or two. So, as I was reading “Le Criquet de Fer”, the word “Azad” kept on returning with resonance from my memories. It means “Free” in Armenian and Kurdish, but was not sure if it was also used as such in other languages.

So, I Goggled!

Well, Azad is used both as a masculine name meaning “free man” and a word meaning “free” in Asia Minor cultures such as Iranian, Turkish, Armenian and Kurdish, but also in Hindi. Perhaps of the Silk and Spice Roads?

It is delightful that freedom, a concept and goal shaping human cultures is also defined by the same word in so many cultures.

So I decided to research if the two other pan-human concepts and aspirations also have common terminology. I chose “love” and “beauty” for the languages which used Azad as a common word.
Here is what I found:

A.    Love
In Armenian it is Ser
In Kurdish it is Evîn
In Hindi it is Mohabbat
In Turkish it is Aşk
In Iranian/Farsi it is Mehr

B.     Beauty
In Armenian it is Keghetsgoutyoun
In Kurdish it is çelengî
In Hindi it is sundarata
In Turkish it is güzellik
In Iranian it is Iranian/Farsi is Jamal

Maslow and the hierarchy of human needs: When we mention needs, in most parts of the world those who have taken a class of psychology will bring Abraham Maslow’s pyramid to the discussion. Yes, that pyramid has made us believe that we have a hierarchy that needs to be fulfilled stepwise in order for us to find comfort, happiness, love and success in life. Interestingly, in the original version of the famous Maslow-pyramid freedom is a ‘luxury’ or meta-motivational need that comes after all other needs such as food, security and shelter are fulfilled.

Today I am thinking about the work of Barakat, one of the most prolific Syrian – Kurdish writers of the century. His name in Kurdish is Bereket meaning good fortune. He has made Stockholm, Sweden, his home since 1999 but all his writings, in original Arabic, are about the part of the world where the word for freedom is the same but not the words for beauty and love.

I am not sure how Maslow’s pyramid explains the power of Barakat’s writing echoing the centuries-old sorrow and hopes of 35 million Kurds, the largest cultural group without a country of their own.  Kurds speak their language in parts of Iraq, Turkey, Iran, Syria, Lebanon, Armenia, Georgia, Kyrgyzstan, Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan and Afghanistan. 

For them, freedom may not be a luxury.

…And, 45 years after reading his first autobiography while in a Beirut shelter during the civil war of the 1970s, I cannot but wonder if indeed Maslow had underestimated the desire of humans to place freedom atop the list of their needs, surpassing hunger and shelter.
After all, a hungry but free man is more at peace with destiny than is a man enslaved to material or non-spiritual desires.

Unless of course one has to cherish Shakespeare’s Sonnet 57 where he writes:
Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Upon the hours and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend,
Nor services to do, till you require.

Somehow I know that Saleem Barakat never used this Sonnet for inspiration….


November 27, 2018
© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2018

Thursday, November 15, 2018

The Walls of Layla







Majnun
At noon
Laid down by her grave
And carved verses of virgin love
As nazira

She had already descended
Into the ruins of his lonesome soul
To find silence
In assorted songs, years later, in secret

It was his turn
In madness and hope
To pass by the walls
And find in the desert

The simple name he knew
Dark as night, dark as the sunset
When he let that name bathe in the sand
Repeating “I am yours”

Before the sun came back
As a song
In time

November 15, 2018
© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2018

Thursday, November 1, 2018

Even As the Archer Loves the Arrow That Flies, So Too He loves the Bow That Remains Constant in His Hands. — Nigerian Proverb






And she wore the sounds
She often hoped to hear
When the desert slept
And the moon rested upon her pillow
All colour, all sound
                   
Predictable pleasures
Get lost in the rhyme
In the hope of a name
That ends the dream
Like a couplet

And she wore the sounds
Like a hat, like what’s remains
Of an embrace
When love had left her pillow
And gave its space to the silence
Of a cold moon

She will not get old
For she was never of that youth
When one wears a sonnet
En guise of a stolen kiss
To give a rhyme to the silent

Desert

November 1, 2018
© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2018