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| C) |
The rastaman’s language fascinates me
The idioms, the vocabularies, the way words are let out
I give it up to them
So, they call idiom idiam
Vocabulary vokiabileri
History ischri
Dictionary dikshineri
The rastaman, dreadlocks burying his head,
Adorned in rastaman’s colours and flags,
Wears a pained expression on his face
“Bredda, Lawd Gad, dis a Babylon system!”
“Kakruoch no biniz iina faul fait”
He talks differently, he has a style
And I pretend to understand him.
I wish I could.
I listen to Mutabaruka explaining
About Haile Selassie and the African Ruut
I hear Dis Poem, I hear the message for the yuut
Then I hear Bob Marley’s Africa Unite,
So Much Trouble in the World, No Woman No Cry,
“No bullet can stop us now,
we neither beg nor we won't bow,
neither can be bought nor sold,
we all defend the right,
Jah Jah children must unite,
for life is worth much more than gold”
Shaking off the drunken stupor of my feet
I raise my right arm into the air
Leap into the air then stop abruptly
The music is just too powerful
I have to hold my senses with me
Else, I might speak to the wall.
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