Then
I held
each worry bead
for the space
of a name
Now
a bottle of Cava
and a window
without
a frame
Often
I let
one bead slide
as I held
the next one
a while
longer
next to
a round table
where the space
of a name
was lovingly
left
lonely
February 19, 2022
©Vahé A.
Kazandjian, 2022
We all have special poems, songs or even movies we revisit when life makes us face moments we have passed through once. We receive comfort and solace from reading; listening or seeing these familiar testimonies that make us part of those human crowds who have been there as well.
Yesterday I felt like listening to the French singer Barbara. Over the past five decades she has remained one of these singers who by her character, life experiences and artistic revolt reminded me not to look for comfort when you can be panhuman, albeit while making those who take things for granted uncomfortable.
There is a great article on the BBC site that describes Barbara and how she, through one of her songs, influenced the reconciliation between France and Germany post WWII. Here is that link for those who are curious about this historic event:
Göettingen: The song
that made history
By Stephen Evans
https://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-21126353
Barbara was born Monique Andrée Serf in Paris in 1930 to Jewish parents. She took her stage name from her grandmother’s name, Varvara Brodsky of Odessa, as her stage name. During the WWII, she was targeted by the Nazis as all Jews were and she found refuge outside of France. When she returned to Paris in the 1950s, she became a famous cabaret singer and became known as La Chanteuse de Minuit ("the midnight singer").
Despite her troubling times during the war and the Nazis,
now famous, she traveled to the German city of Göettingen in 1964 and sang the
song that changed history. Indeed, France had still not forgotten about the
Nazis and Germany, and Barbara wrote in her memoires that she wrote the lyrics,
in French, the day before her concert at
the Göettingen theatre driven “to a
profound desire for reconciliation, but not a desire to forget.”
I wanted to discuss this historic event because the night Barbara sang “Göettingen” in the audience was a student named Gerhard Schröder. Decades later he became the Chancellor of Germany and in his speech at the Château de Versailles marking the 40th anniversary of the Elysée Treaty of reconciliation between France and Germany, he quoted from the lyrics of Barbara ending with:
"I was a doctoral
student in Göettingen when she came to sing. It went to our hearts, the start
of a wonderful friendship between our countries."
… Today, I was listening to another of Barbara’s songs “Dis, quand revienras-tu?” (1962) which is a femme fatale song asking her lover when he will be back. This is my favorite song of her to play when over the years time has brought me closer to myself. I get the same feeling from this song as I do watching Barbara Stanwyck’s 1930s and 1940s noir movies.
While asking her lover to come back, we realize that there
is no dependency or weakness for the Chanteuse de Minuit. She knows how
to overcome adversities as she has done during WWII, and also regarding the
sexual abuse by her father when a young girl. She sings:
Si tu ne comprends pas qu'il te faut revenir,
Je ferai de nous deux mes plus beaux souvenirs,
Je reprendrai la route, le monde m'émerveille,
J'irai me réchauffer à un autre soleil,
Je ne suis pas de celles qui meurent de chagrin,
Je n'ai pas la vertu des femmes de marins,
(If you don't
understand that you have to come back,
I will make the two of us my most beautiful memories,
I'll hit the road again, the world amazes me,
I will warm myself to another sun,
I'm not one of those who die of grief,
I don't have the virtue of sailors' wives)
Over the years I have found a changing meaning to those lines. Today, it was in the last line, the virtue of sailors’ wives, that somehow took me to Portugal and a Fado song that I find most spiritual both in lyrics and musical tempo. I first heard Barco Negro sung by the Queen of Fado Amàlia Rodrigues and even with a partial understanding of the lyrics, I was transported into a trans like spiritual space.
Barco Negro is the plea of a sailor’s wife asking the departing sailor to come back to her. But his black boat leaves and she is left heartbroken.
Here is that part of the lyrics:
Vi depois, numa rocha, uma cruz
(Then I saw, on a
rock, a cross)
E o teu barco negro dançava na luz
(And your black boat
danced in the light)
Dizem as velhas da praia, que não voltas
(The old women on the
beach say that you won't come back)
Compared to Barbara’s clear statement about her independence and survival abilities, the sailor’s wife exhibits denial and rejects the old women’s prediction that he will not come back. She believes he loves her as much as she does love him and that the black boat will come back. Barbara’s song is a mix of amorous invitation and personal strength to deal with the outcome, while the sadness and gut wrenching plea of the sailor’s wife makes us feel vulnerable.
… I spend most weekends reading poetry as well as writing. I started this one revisiting songs that are spiritual and cut across cultures by tackling basic human experiences. The old women of the beaches of Portugal have seen many a black boat go and never return. And others have followed Barbara in “warming themselves to another sun”.
Yet my comfort remains in enjoying moments when I am allowed to do so, and cherishing their memories when they are gone.
February 5, 2022
©Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2022
PS/ I took the top photo of a small fishing boat (dhow) almost 40 years ago in Doha, Qatar, the Persian Gulf. It was the cover photo for one of my travel stories books.
I did not record the date of the second photo (late 1990s) I took in Porto, Portugal.
PS2/ One of the most memorable renditions of Barco Negro I have seen were by Fado’s new generation diva Mariza at her Lisbon concert in 2013. A must see video to watch!
