Resistance Candombe - Cristina Rodriguez Cabral

The poem Candombe de Resistencia by the Uruguayan poet Cristina Rodriguez Cabral.

Candombe de Resistencia

Resistance Candombe

Latina,        hispana,           sudamericana     con sangre africana latiendo en mis venas,     soy, ante todo,     un ser humano;     una mujer negra. Mi abuela fue lavandera y mi abuelo historiador. Mi abuelo hablaba del racismo y del deber de cada Negro de mostrar, siempre de sí mismo, lo mejor, de dignificar su procedencia ancestral de enorgullecerse de su acervo cultural. Los vecinos del barrio, familiares y amigos, decían que el abuelo estaba loco por leer tantos libros. La abuela de mi abuelo de niña fue esclava; dijo que su hijo sería la última generación esclava en la familia, y en el Uruguay. Luego... le regaló su primer libro sembró la primera flor. La tatarabuela flameaba en su sangre la bandera libertaria; ella dijo que sus hijos serían libertados, principalmente, de la ignorancia. Y así… el jardín resurgió. El abuelo mamó su noción de libertad, así como heredó su pobreza y el compromiso genealógico de ser cada día mejor. Mi bisabuela no se equivocó al decir que seríamos libres, sobre todo de la ignorancia; el abuelo tampoco se equivocó al pensar que aceptaríamos nuestra africanidad uruguaya y la dignificaríamos. Mi madre no heredó esa loca pasión por los libros, así como tampoco vaciló en curvar su espalda lavando pisos para poder pagarme la mejor educación posible. Ella se dijo a sí misma “fertilizaré la tierra para que crezca la flor”. Y así se convirtió en una gran dama de manos callosas y mirada tierna. De ahí he surgido yo, navegando libros,     mares, y penas; otro eslabón que se suma a la cadena. Queriendo cumplir la promesa de la bisabuela, y guardando la sabiduría del abuelo en mi pecho     y en mi conciencia. Hija de Ogún,     águila        mujer           guerrera. Mi hija es también otra guerrera, bebe a diario del bagaje cultural           ancestral y genealógico de intentar ser cada día mejor. Tal vez, tan solo a contar esta historia he llegado yo al mundo, en este tiempo y derribando fronteras; desde el lado sur del continente donde las sombras se extienden pretendiendo invisibilizar nuestra presencia. Soy una negra uruguaya, parida en la América Mestiza con sangre Africana templando el tambor de mis venas. Latina, Hispana, Sudamericana qué más da. Soy ante todo un ser Humano, una Mujer Negra. (De Memoria y resistencia, 2004: 17-20)

Latina,        hispanic,           South American     with African blood beating in my veins,     I am, above all,     a human being;     a black woman. My grandmother was a washerwoman and my historian grandfather. My grandfather talked about racism and that the duty of every Black person was to show, about themselves, the best, always to dignify their ancestral origin to take pride in its cultural heritage. The neighborhood, family members and friends, told us grandpa was crazy for reading so many books. My grandfather's grandmother was a slave since childhood; she stated that her son would be the last slave generation in the family, and in Uruguay. Then... she gave him his first book She planted the first flower. The great-great-grandmother flamed in her blood the libertarian flag; she said that her children They would be freed mostly, of ignorance. And in this way … the garden resurfaced. Grandpa soaked up his notion of freedom, as well as he inherited his poverty and the commitment genealogical to be better every day. My great-grandmother was not wrong By saying that we would be free, especially from ignorance; Grandpa wasn't wrong either. thinking that we would accept our Uruguayan Africanity and we would dignify it. My mother did not inherit that crazy passion for books, just as she did not hesitate either in curving your back washing floors to be able to pay me the best possible education. She said to herself “I will fertilize the land so that the flower grows.” And so she became a great lady of calloused hands and tender look. From there I have emerged, navigating books,   seas, and sorrows; another link which is added to the chain. wanting to fulfill great-grandmother's promise, and keeping the wisdom of grandfather in my chest  and in my conscience. Daughter of Ogun,  eagle  women  warrior My daughter is also another warrior, drinks daily from the cultural baggage  ancestral and genealogical of trying to be better every day. Maybe just to tell this story I have arrived into the world, during this time and breaking down borders; from the southern side of the continent where the shadows spread trying to make invisible our presence. I am a black Uruguayan woman, birth in Mestizo America with African blood tempering the drum of my veins. Latina, Hispanic, South American what difference does it make. I am above all a human being, a Black Woman. (De Memoria y resistencia, 2004: 17-20)

Note: English version available in this post is a loose translation from the Spanish text .

All the Rights Reserved for the author Cristina Rodriguez Cabral

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About The Poet

Cristina Rodríguez Cabral (1959) is a Uruguayan poet and professor. Author of Poetry and non-fiction books and dedicated to the academic studies, Cabral's work talks about African Diaspora in Uruguay and the perspective of Afro-Latin American Women, showing the resistance to the oppressions of race and gender.