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Several years ago I was researching
an article for Newsweek on the resurgence of poetry in post-Taliban
Afghanistan. Although Iraq subsequently pushed the article off that
magazine’s pages, and I had to endure the anti-American sermons of smug
Norwegian do-gooders, one good thing came out of the experience. I got to
know one of Afghanistan’s most prominent contemporary poets,
Partaw Naderi.
Partaw, a poet, the president of
Afghanistan's PEN chapter and editor of the
Afghan Civil Society Forum's magazine, Jamea-e-madani, recently
spent several months, starting in September, at the University of Iowa in
its
International Writers Program. They were lucky to get him. He has a mix
of imagination, empathy, dreaminess, faith, hard-nosedness and reason that
make for excellent excellent poets.
Below I’ve posted Partaw’s part of
the email conversation we’ve had over the past several months interspersed
with English translations (some by Sarah Maguire and Yama Yari) of Partaw’s
poems.
(The line breaks, apparently, are
impossible to preserve for someone without an advanced degree in large
number theory and a minor in cryptography but I've enclosed links to other
sources for the poems.)
This isn’t meant to be a
comprehensive interview of Partaw or biography, just an impression, a
poetic one, to give you a sense of the man. Of Partaw’s emails I have only
edited the typos. I think the way the man speaks in English is more poetic
than what I’d wind up with were I to “correct” his language.
Hope you are doing well. This is
Partaw Naderi emailing you from Iowa City. I’m here since the beginning of
September. I have been selected from Afghanistan to attend an International
Writing Program 2006. I wish you could remember me, because it is a long
time we have not any emailing connection.
Yesterday, leaning on my cane,
I returned from the trees’ cremation.
Today, I search the ashes
for my lost, homeless phoenix.
Perhaps it was you who shadowed me,
perhaps it was only my shadow.
Even though the lucky men in my land
lack stars in the heavens, lack
shadows on the earth
they welcome any stars
that grace their devastated sky.
O, my friend, my only friend,
turn your anguish into
constellations!
Iowa is a calm and green city.
Exactly I like such as city. It looks me like Oxford, a city of university.
Our hotel house is located in the campus.
International Writing Program is a three months program and we will stay
here up to November 22. There are more than twenty writers and poets from
different countries. On 28 of September I will have a reading and a
presentation about the modern poetry of Afghanistan for the retired
professors at the senior college.
Without any diplomatic words, friendly, I want to say if the situation
continue like this I’m not so optimistic about the future of Afghanistan.
Taliban and Al-Qaida, such as a passed winter dragon, is getting dangerous
day by day. Approximately there are one or two suicide bombing in Kabul city
every week. The question is this how long international coalition will stay
and fight against terrorism in Afghanistan? Afghanistan Government should
have the important responsibility, but it is full of corruption, such as a
corrupt government it itself make the situation worse. This government is
such as a groom that can't love with his bride. In other hand, however,
Pakistan is a member of International Coalition against terrorism, but
Pakistan government also trying to pick up it benefit from the situation.
Pakistan never want a strong government in Afghanistan. Pakistan laughing
with Afghan government and twinkle to Taliban triumphantly. Pakistan
religious school (madrasa) is still producing fighters as a fabric and
sending to Afghanistan.
Sorry dear Curt for these disappointment sentences, but I understanding like
this. Maybe I’m not right. Anyhow, future belong to God, just I afraid if
the black despotic regime be back and that time maybe a poet will recite
again:
come and
see the blood on the street
come and see the blood on the street
come and see the blood on the street
Here
every thing is well, just the reports which I have received from Afghanistan
suffering me. It looks now there is a big question mark against the future
of the country.
Last week I have a reading and I have received invitation from different
college for poetry reading. I will be in Indiana university for a reading
and talking some thing about the resistance poetry and post-Taliban
literature.
My mother was from the green tribe of
grace
she spoke the language of the
heavenly ones
she wore a silky scarf of faith
her heart resembled God’s throne –
and was as large as the Divine truth.
I could hear God’s voice from the
heartbeats
and no one knew that God was in our
house
and that the sun would rise along
with
voice of my mother.
My mother was from the green tribe of
grace
Whenever she approached me
I could see rays of light
In her little footprints
I could see the green, heavenly
fields
And I would pick from their trees the
fruits of mirth.
Hope you
are doing well. I’m still in Iowa City, however 2006 International Writing
Program was ended on November 22. All writers have gone to their countries.
I’m here because I havereceived different invitation from different colleges
for poetry reading and presentation some thing about Afghanistan. We were
for four days in Washington and three days in New York. I have a poetry
reading in Congress library.
I was back to Iowa on November 23. From November 4-8, I was in Indiana and
had reading and a panel about Afghanistan politic poetry.
It’s well past midnight
I should get up to pray
The mirrors of my honesty
have long been filmed with dust
I should get up
I still have time
My hands can yet discern
a jug of water from a jug of wine
as time’s wheeled chariot
hurtles down the slope of my life
Perhaps tomorrow
the poisonous arrows aimed at me
will hunt down my eyes
two speckled birds startled into
flight
Perhaps tomorrow
my children
will grow old
awaiting my return |
