24 January, 2024
“HOPE !”
(a) The Mauritian fishing vessel “GOOD HOPE” was wrecked at St Brandon island (Indian Ocean) in June 1994. A number of fishermen died or disappeared. A photo of the wrecked ship appeared in “WEEK-END” newspaper, Mauritius, of 23 June, 1996, (page 18).
(b) This poem is dedicated to Mauritian fishermen who fish in Mauritian waters at the Chagos and at other places in the Indian Ocean. (Also dedicated to their families, and to those children whose Dads didn’t come back home from the fishing trips).
(c) Please also see : “Marin-pêcheurs : sur la terre mouvante.” “5-PLUS DIMANCHE” newspaper, Mauritius, 27 April, 1997, (page 15).
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HOPE !
Tears of love ! Again ! Once more, those tears !
As yon day approaches, as yon time nears,
Grips the children a fear that hath no name :
A vague fear that starts again its game….
Slowly Dad gets ready : he thinks of the sea yonder,
Mother Sea, the mighty, Mother Sea, the powerful,
Mother Sea, so deceitful, beckoning on the voyager :
How this ordeal doth render the family sorrowful !
Whither goest thou, Dad ? Yon sea, Dad, be so far…..
No fish nearer, Dad ? Please, Daddy, do stay nearer !
Nearer to us, Dad, and nearer to our silent Mother.
Say, Daddy, fancy another drink from our bar ?....
*****
God ! What a life ! Yon child is happy.
Happy as can be. For, he\'s quite lucky.
Back home this afternoon again he\'ll see his Dad :
But, tearfully this one bows his head : he\'s sad.
His Dad hath gone away, again on yon shaky ship.
The call of duty. That terrible time again hath come.
The call of toil. The call that comes again for some.
Time now to depart. Time again for the eyes to drip.
Don\'t forget to wear, Daddy, thy lifejacket.
Don\'t be long, Daddy : on thy return we bet.
Dad nods pensively, and looks at yon puppy :
Even in the dog\'s eyes, a look unhappy…..
The fish by Joe\'s Mum bought
Had been by Jim\'s Dad caught;
The fish ends up as Joe\'s dinner;
But, would Jim see again his father ?....
*****
Hark ! Hark ! Yonder rumbles on thunder...
Fork\'d lightning splitting the firmament....
Raging thunder rippling everything asunder :
In the bobbing boats, another pathetic lament…..
Lo ! Lo ! Frothing, towering waves ahoy,
Lifting and shaking the old ship like a toy;
The ageing vessel \'pon the reef be dash\'d :
The mother ship mercilessly be smash\'d.
God ! Some will make it, but some won\'t…..
Some will see their Dads again; some won\'t…..
Some Dads will return home : some might not…..
Ah ! What a destiny have these poor men got !
Bravely struggle our men in this watery hell :
For some, suddenly had knell\'d the death bell ;
They bait\'d Mother Sea : she beckon\'d them yonder :
They fend\'d Mother Sea : they had to cave under…..
Into their grill\'d fish happily dig many :
The fat fish they do find very tasty;
Some toil\'d, so others might dine :
Some drown\'d : others sip at their wine….
Our poor men had hope. They had good hope,
Though their life, they knew, held just by a rope.
Many times sail\'d they, and return’d to the village :
One day Mother Sea went on some rampage.
To yon crying lass, yon weeping lad, what to explain :
What explanation, what excuse to give to yon twain !
These tearful kids hope to see again Daddy :
They have hope, and will hope on bravely.
Some said their prayers. And ate their fill.
And slump\'d into a cosy bed. A nice, warm bed.
Some toil\'d yonder. Into a watery grave sped.
Their dear ones be waiting for them still…..
*****
By some cruel fate are we dogg\'d :
Into sheer misery are we bogg\'d;
A permit need\'d we from the trespassers !
A permit need’d we to fish in our own waters !
A permit need\'d we from the plunderers !
For a permit, had we to apply to the grabbers !
But, since we cannot own even our waters,
Our writings will give the occupiers the shivers !
The grabbers flourish on, to torment, to persecute :
Even the rightful owners they dar\'d to prosecute !
The lawful owners were fined by the trespassers !
Holy Jesus ! Wherefrom come such bloody wonders !
Policemen, prosecutors be they, in their brutality :
Stern judges and jailers be they in this effrontery ;
But, shalt haunt them the fine we paid :
Our people’s sacrifice can ne’er be repaid...
*****
By the sea are we claim\'d :
By the grabbers are we maim\'d;
By the squatters are we drain\'d :
Everyday cruelly are we pain\'d.
We sail the sea, we confront calamity :
We eye yon waves, we curse this robbery;
Daily do we toil on, bravely do we struggle :
But, let it be known : we will face every battle.
With nothing but our pen, our writings,
We\'ll sing our misery, our sufferings;
The world will come to our help finally :
The world shalt uphold this poetry.
The enemy shalt have no sleep :
For, all around him, in yon den,
From the lagoon to the deep,
Swim the souls of our fallen men.
Our old friends, our good friends impos’d the fine :
Their cruelty, their perfidy do they always refine ;
But, they might, as they like, prove devilish :
We will go ahead and everywhere we publish...
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