"Best bargains" ; 29 July, 2023

"BEST BARGAINS"

 

• (a)  This poem refers to slavery in general.

 

(b)  The following may also be consulted :

 

[1]  "La traite négrière : les vues de Ladebat, Clarkson et Buxton." "WEEK-END" newspaper, Mauritius, Part (l), 18 February, 1996, (pages 36 and 37); Part (ll), 3 March, 1996, (pages 36 and 37).

 

[2]   Suresh Mourba : "MISÈRE NOIRE." (Printed by Bahadoor Printing, Port Louis, Mauritius, 1990).

 

[3]  "Passionée de la criminologie." "5-PLUS DIMANCHE" newspaper, Mauritius, 5 May, 1996, (page 15).

 

[4]  "Ni folklore, ressentiment." "WEEK-END" newspaper, 21 September, 1997, (page 33).               

 

[5]   "Au-delà de la loi du silence." "WEEK-END" newspaper, 21 September, 1997, (page 33).                 

 

[6]  "Esclavage et séquelles : thème d'un symposium du conseil municipal de Curepipe." "WEEK-END" newspaper, 16 February, 1997, (page 23).

 [7]  "Benjamin Moutou nous parle de l'esclavage." "PASSERELLE" newspaper, Mauritius, January 1997, Number 2, (pages 6 and 7).

                                                                                        

[8]  “Il faut marronner la culture.” "WEEK-END" newspaper, 25 January, 1998, (page 33).

 

[9]  “160ème anniversaire de la fin de l’apprentissage. L’Après-Émancipation à l’île Maurice (1938-1911) : le Dr Norbert Benoit raconte...” “WEEK-END” newspaper, 11 July, 1999, (page 41).     

     

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                                       BEST BARGAINS

 

The foulest game in human history

At this place was play'd out coldly;

The slave-sellers laugh'd callously

As they went about their sale gory.

 

Elsewhere took place some cattle auction :

Elsewhere, on grain sale was all the action :

This auction place reeks of lingering shame :

Yet, the culprits claim they are not to blame.

 

Into this stinking place were herd'd the slaves :

Onto this stage totter'd the chain'd, helpless men.

Whipp'd were they by the cruellest of knaves,

And woefully wept they in this degrading den.

 

But, a lasting monument shalt this remain

As to how prosper'd yon glittering domain;

Here was play'd out the starkest tragedy

Of Man in the grip of the foulest malady.

 

Here were poor slaves parad'd and exhibit'd

By Man --- among animals, the most wick'd;

The haughty buyers scann'd closer the goods,

And thought about cutting further the foods.

 

The mighty buyers examin'd the merchandise :

These weeping goods import'd from far away;

While the buyers had the bargains of the day,

From here the most chilling cries did rise.

 

In this most weird sale, this unforgivable crime,

On the captives' faces, those terrible looks,

Those accusing looks, re-enact'd time after time,

Those blistering looks not recount'd in books.

 

Those chilling looks that summon'd Man to tell

What right had he his brother man to sell !

Yet, the buyers sought after good plumpness

That would pledge well to flourishing business.

 

                                           * * *

 

Here was Man by Man caught,

Here was Man by Man bought,

Here was Man by Man sold :

Here reign'd terror untold.

 

Some surviv'd the rigours of the voyage,

Only to tumble into the darkest age;

Kick'd ashore and beaten, like vulgar cattle,

They didn't know yet the meaning of trouble.

 

At the best bargains some chuckl'd with delight,

And herd'd in their treasure with all their might;

These slaves were excellent for the plantations :

Verily, how they made the prosperity of nations !

 

But, the looks on those faces shalt not be lost,

For, they shalt be recount'd whatever the cost;

Those looks of the captives, as they eyed their captors,

Down the ages daily shalt dog the furtive exterminators.

 

Those looks to which there be no reply,

No reply, however hard many may try;

Those looks that spelt out the utter insanity

Of those that wallow'd into sheer barbarity.

 

The slaves wept, the slaves cried,

The slaves sobb'd as they were tried,

If trial that could be, that criminal parody,

That crime 'pon which flourish'd the economy.

 

How many were thus cruelly kill'd,

How many the bloody soil till'd,

How many hid their worst fears,

How many wept their bitter tears !

 

How many were thus slowly murder'd,

How many, in this SLAVICIDE, were butcher'd,

How many were punish'd for having sinn'd :

Their only sin : being dark-skinn'd !.....

 

                                            * * *

 

My brother was flogg'd until he bled :

Whipp'd again when he ask'd to be fed;

Rivers of tears nightly bath'd his head

Until finally, broken, he dropp'd dead.

 

My God, my God : thou, thou, criminal Man :

Must thou exterminate thus thy own clan !

Thou, bloodthirsty Man : thou, gory murderer :

Thy own brother must thou rend asunder !

 

Slave, my brother, slave, my good brother,

Thy cry shalt continue forever to thunder,

For, our poetic instrument shalt not falter :

We'll poke incessantly at the sly murderer.

 

On thy misery, history accounts are scant :

But, henceforth shalt echo this terrible chant,

This damning reminder of crimes of the past :

Our poetic song always shalt hold steadfast.

 

On thy sweat daily the plantations flourish'd,

While with whips thou were thyself nourish'd;

Into yon soil daily trickl'd thy blood :

Now thy tears shalt rise into a flood.

 

The laments of thy poor folks resound still,

And shalt go on resounding louder ever more;

Thy plight shalt be recount'd as ne’er before,

Even while grinds on profitably yon sugar mill.

 

Thou were captur'd, thou were TRANSPORT'D :

From thy heartland thou were deport'd;

Thou were parad'd, thou were auction'd :

Against escape sternly thou were caution'd.

 

The likes of thee toil'd on from early morn :

Thy frail body would they chain up with scorn;

Often thy murder'd brother would thou mourn

In yon batter'd hut, yon dwelling forlorn.

 

                                              * * *

 

To escape, to run, to scamper, to flee :

From oppression finally to struggle free;

To stop, to look, to listen, to stalk :

For dear life, cautiously to walk.

 

In the forest to survive like a beast :

To be drench'd by chilly rains in winter;

With gnawing hunger to whimper :

To watch from far yon captor's feast.

 

To be stung by the greedy flies,

To stifle daily the hunger cries,

To envy even yon running hare :

At Man's folly tearfully to stare.

 

To be spott'd by cruel traitors,

To be pursu'd by exterminators,

To escape narrowly, with sheer luck :

SHEER LUCK ! LUCK ! SOME LUCK !

 

To prowl near yon domain at noon,

To hear talks about runaway slaves,

To huddle miserably in the afternoon :

To hear the sound of nearby waves.

 

To dream of some final, suicidal swim,

To dream of swimming back to motherland.

To curse this life, so lingering, so grim,

To desire that finally death be at hand.

 

To drop down at last from starvation,

To await death near the captor's bastion,

To prefer a slow death to capitulation :

To despair at the travesty of civilisation.

 

A neat skeleton lying near yon brook :

A chilling monument to Man's folly;

Even in the eye sockets, a terrible look :

The whole land, a mausoleum for slavery.

 

                                           * * *

 

Or, to stay. To be flay'd by the chain;

To toil away in the sun, in the rain;

To be flogg'd for something, for nothing :

To be whipp'd for everything, for anything.

 

My God ! Wherefrom comes that barbarity,

What could possibly explain such atrocity,

Why mercilessly should Man maim and flog,

While giving a better treatment to his dog !

 

Slave, when thou talk'd of final liberation,

The "owners" talk'd of ample "compensation;"

To restore to thee at last thy rightful liberty

They had to be compensat'd with good money.

 

But, for thee what compensation can there be,

What apology can set thy batter'd soul free,

What excuse can anybody now offer

For the crime that kill’d thee off, brother !

 

They've been told to apologise,

But, they pretend not to hear;

They think they have nothing to fear,

And the world would they still “civilise.”

 

But, the arms that flogg'd without pity

Into paralysis shalt be bogg'd for eternity;

For, our thunderous writings shalt rise and roar,

And shalt charge and ram like a wound'd boar !

 

Slave, thy blood they drew with their whips;

Thy frail body they flogg'd into limpness;

But, thy avenger wields today with prowess

The poetry that will devastate them amidships !

 

Slave, thou shalt be remember'd for eternity :

Thy cries shalt resound anew in this clime,

Thy memories shalt stand the test of time,

To recount those crimes against humanity.

 

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