THE SILENCE BETWEEN US

THE SILENCE BETWEEN US

Our history is the same
And yet it's vastly different
Like the night and day of blame
Our telling of it is quite varied

We wear the coat of melanin magic
The taste of our lineage is incredible
Even so, history has twisted us into the tragic
Why did we miss each other by sea?

We are the same in this horrid game
Land apart by water and death
Sold into dangerous guile and shame
Our language lost and found but bitter

Mother lost her children to unimaginable pain
The islands cannot explain why
Alas, our spiritual DNA knows that we gain
Much from the remembrance of us

Harsh winds have blown us apart
We reach for each other in the dark
Our history proves that we are a part
Of a grander picture created by vocal crimson flood

Foreign graven images always lie lies
Of magnitude written by interlopers
We suffer beneath darkened skies
Because of the silence between us

©zari alexxanderr-caine 2018
#blackpoetboy


I was listening to an audio book the other day and two words bounced out at me like a rubber ball from somewhere inside me. The words were, 'silence between' and I felt led to pen them down because I knew that something was about to speak. As I continued to place pen on paper I saw the title complete itself with 'THE SILENCE BETWEEN US'. At first, I thought it was going to be a poem about love and relationships but as I looked at the bold title before me, a sharp picture emerged of the frosty relationship between Africans and the African diaspora. I found it intriguing that one minute I am pondering on romantic relationships between the sexes and then in a heartbeat, a variable shift occurs on the subject matter of how the African diaspora is at war silently against the African.

As the product of both and the same, I have ringside seats.

My father is Nigerian and my mother is Jamaican of German and Irish extraction. Their coupling bloomed in their student days in London in the 60's. I was the first fruit of their marriage. They moved to Lagos after their studies were completed. I saw an explosive exchange growing up in our family that boasted of a further five siblings. Apparently, it was not part of my father's family plans that their son, my father would return with a foreign wife and child. My father was an outlier it seemed.

I grew up in the cosmopolitan city of Lagos and witnessed the wonders of being privileged and vilified with equal measured. It took quite a strong streak of determination to accept this as it was. My mother made sure that she found her space and filled it within the dynasty of her in-laws. It was ornery at best and  divisive at worst. The family politics was thick with a dynamism that struggled to reconcile itself. The thing is that whenever I went to London I felt more at home in my skin than in Lagos. And the other thing I witnessed was the open resentment that burned from black people of African persuasion against the Africans who came from source, so to speak. The Africans were jovial, comely, inclusive and open whilst the African 'other' seemed to be defensive, accusatory and suspecting. I saw it in the matter of how young people would come home with a boyfriend or girlfriend and the interrogation would begin. It always centred on the linage of the one brought home. And sparks would fly. Deep seated resentment would rise and splash like acid. I often wondered why this was.

This is an explosive subject matter even now that social mores have slightly changed. This 'wolf on the inside' among us must be addressed. The poem uses simple language to describe who we all really are. The tribalism within us is a plan set by the coloniser to separate us from each and by so doing they can use us to further their vested interests. Yes, the trauma is real but does it mean that it cannot be worked through? Does it mean that the ancient resentments fuelled by lies will stay and cause more schisms than already exist? Is it possible to love again who we always are though we may be scattered throughout the world?

Answers oftentimes hold questions within them.

I have seen the devastating effects of this perceived divide and it's so ugly that the next generation may begin to exhibit the same. My take on this is that if we wear the same skin we are one regardless of where we call home. If we wear the same hue then we share the same melanated DNA. We are simply family uber extended with gifts that we as magical people use to influence the world. When we meet we know that we see our reflection even though our experiences are diverse. We can help each other through the trauma of the ancient separation of the invaders. We are powerful beyond measure.

Our spiritual DNA knows more than what we think. The truth is that our ancestors are one and this has carried us from sea to sea, land to land, experience to experience, culture to culture and soul to soul. I have all of them coursing through my veins and I accept that my family is far bigger than the ones I call family.

This is an ever expanding conversation.

©zari alexxanderr-caine 2018
#blackpoetboy

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