Festival of Hope 1 / 30 April 2020

Daydreams of a Mortgaged Democracy

Drawing by Yaw Tembe, 2020. Click on image to follow external link.

Devaneios da democracia hipotecada 

A democracia é uma ideia transformada em bem ou serviço, 

Comprada com as poupanças, comprada por quase nada.

Comprada a acreditar que era uma transacção sem juros 

Fidedigna, irreversível e de garantia ilimitada.

-

Afinal era um empréstimo, a crédito, ao capitalismo, 

Temporário, inflacionável e com juros até ao abismo.

-

O capital gerava lucro acumulado e reinvestido, 

Enquanto as massas confiantes na segurança social:

Contribuíam, tributavam, contribuíam, tributavam, 

E tinham direitos humanos mas duma forma maquinal.

-

O sistema democrático era o mais justo e coerente. 

Criou-se todo um circo jurídico com essa bandeira içada

E nós, seguíamos confiantes face à solução encontrada,

Sem sonhar que a democracia fosse mais tarde hipotecada.

-

A casa grande foi montada com diversas prateleiras

Dos direitos, economias, letras, artes e asneiras

Humanidades, sociologias, ciências, educação

E em todas garantem que existe liberdade de expressão.

-

Negros no campo, gritam há tempos, que não há democracia

Não são tidos como humanos mas recursos e mercadoria

Então na casa acharam por bem fazer mais umas prateleiras:

biologias, recursos humanos e antropologias na dianteira

-

Mas vender democracia era um grande investimento

Vender-nos a ilusão de auto-controle a todo momento 

E ao mesmo tempo abolir a ideia da emancipação

Então bancos, fronteiras e igrejas serviram como salvação

-

Porque a casa da repressão era ao pé da casa do fascismo

E ambas serviam a grande mansão já montada do capitalismo 

Hipotecar a democracia foi só pintar com quatro de mão,

Mudar portas, fechaduras e encafuar gavetas no sótão.

-

A empreitada da fachada foi a mais difícil de pintar

Até vieram republicanos e democráticos para ajudar!

Mas como as belas fatiotas davam sempre nas vistas

Foram entre esquerda e direita para entreter-nos com listas.

-

Enquanto isso as casas cresciam tão democraticamente

Que poucos sentiram o cheiro a podre no ambiente

Cheirava a genocidio judaico, indígena, negro e cigano

Mas lá na casa dançavam com fado, flamenco e tango

-

A democracia… uma ideia transformada em bem ou serviço, 

Comprada com as poupanças, comprada por quase nada.

Comprada a acreditar que era uma transacção sem juros 

Fidedigna, irreversível e com garantia ilimitada.

-

Afinal era um empréstimo, a crédito, ao capitalismo, 

Temporário, inflacionável e com juros até ao abismo.

-

E toda a gente já sabia que a Ganância e a Ostentação

Eram só as irmãs mais novas da Dona Colonização

Ainda assim continuavam a comprar democracia

Por ingenuidade, inocência, ignorância ou teimosia.

-

E se alguém ousasse falar sobre aquecimento global

“Mas ora essa, que tolice, isso faz parte, é natural”

Cheira a dióxido de carbono, gases e efeitos de estufa

Queimadas de combustíveis fósseis e da floresta tropical

-

Anos de vozes caladas: anos de democracia

Anos de vidas ceifadas: anos de democracia

Anos de mulheres estupradas, refugiadas, escravizadas: 

anos de democracia

-

Anos de espionagem sobre os rebeldes da libertação

Cheirava a guerrilhas, a denúncias e teorias da revolução

E quando a clandestinidade deu buraco orçamental

Então um génio megalómano inventou a rede social

-

Porque num mundo democrático vamos poder partilhar

A nossa vida realizada, ou sobre o que estamos a sonhar

Ideologias, partidos políticos, bem como o destino de férias

Artes, carros, estilos de vida e tudo o que queremos comprar

-

Nada como sermos nós próprios a oferecer de bandeja

O que as massas reflectem e o que o povo almeja

Cereja no topo do bolo sem grande consternação:

As redes agora ditam o que é verdade, história ou ficção

-

A democracia… uma ideia transformada em vírus,

Comprada com as poupanças, comprada por quase nada

Comprada a acreditar que era uma transacção genial

Mas os juros?… eram a terceira guerra mundial.

Daydreams of a Mortgaged Democracy 

Democracy is an idea transformed into goods and services,

Bought with savings, bought for almost nothing.

Bought in the belief that it was a transaction without interest, 

Reliable, irreversible, and with an unlimited warranty.

-

In the end, it was a loan on credit to capitalism,

Temporary, inflationary, at interest, right into the abyss. 

-

Capital generated accumulated and reinvested wealth,

While the masses believed in social security:

They paid taxes, and got taxed, paid again, were taxed again,

They were granted human rights, however mechanically.

-

Of all systems, the democratic was the fairest and most coherent.

A whole legal circus was raised on a hoisted flag,

And we followed, believing in the solution,

Never dreaming that democracy would, later on, be mortgaged.

-

The large house was equipped with a variety of shelves

Full of rights, economies, literatures, arts and blunders

Humanities, sociologies, sciences, education

And in all of them, they assured us, was freedom of expression.

-

Blacks in the fields, have long shouted that there is no democracy.

They’re not taken as humans, but resources and merchandise.

So they thought they’d put up a few more shelves in the house:

Biology, human resources and anthropology, up front.

-

But selling democracy required a major investment,

Selling us the illusion of full-time self-control 

And at the same time abolishing the idea of emancipation

So that banks, borders and churches would stand in for salvation.

-

The house of oppression was next door to the house of fascism. 

They both sustained the long-built mansion of capitalism.

To mortgage democracy -- four coats of fresh paint,

Change the doors and the locks, hide the drawers in the attic. 

-

Painting the façade was the most difficult part.

Even the Republicans and Democrats came to help!

But since beautiful outfits were always on show

They moved from right to left teasing us with candidates

-

Meanwhile the houses grew so democratically

That few smelled the smell of rot in the air,

That smelled of genocide: Jewish, Indigenous, Black and Romany,

But back in the house they danced to Fado, Flamenco and Tango

-

Democracy... an idea transformed into goods and services, 

Bought with savings, bought for almost nothing.

Bought in the belief that it was a transaction without interest 

Reliable, irreversible, and with an unlimited warranty.

-

In the end it was a loan on credit, to capitalism,

Temporary, inflationary, at interest, right into the abyss. 

-

And everyone knew that greed and ostentation

Were just the younger sisters of Madame Colonization

Even so, they went on buying democracy

Naïvely, innocently, ignorantly and stubbornly.

-

And if anyone dared to say anything about global warming,

“Oh that, what silliness, it’s part of things, it’s natural,”

It smells like carbon dioxide, gasses and greenhouses,

Burnt fossil fuels and tropical rain forests. 

-

Years of silenced voices: years of democracy

Years of lives destroyed: years of democracy

Years of women raped, exiled, enslaved:

Years of democracy

-

Years of spying on the rebels of liberation

It smelled like guerrillas, like denunciations and theories of revolution

And when what was clandestine drained the budget

Then some megalomaniac genius invented social networks

-

Because in the democratic world we’ll be able to share

A fulfilled life, and everything we dream of:

Ideologies, political parties, where we’re going on vacation,

Arts, cars, lifestyles and everything we want to buy,

-

Nothing like offering ourselves up on the salver,

What the masses reflect and the people long for,

Cherry on top of the cake free of worry:

The Internet dictating what’s true, history or fiction,

-

Democracy…an idea transformed into a virus,

Bought with savings, bought for almost nothing.

Bought in the belief that it was a great buy.

But the interest? …that was the third world war.

Translated from Portuguese by Martin Earl

Author

Raquel Lima

raquellima (1983-) is a Lisbon based poet from both banks of the Tagus river and the Atlantic Ocean, an Angolan mother, a Santomean father, a Senegalese paternal grandmother and a Brazilian maternal great-grandmother. A poet, performer and art educator, raquellima sets out in this book & audio edition as part of a ten-year journey of essentially oral poetry, a movement that has taken her to over a dozen countries in Europe, South America and Africa. During this period, she presented her work in literature, oral narration, poetry slam, spokenword, performance and music events, namely FLIP – Festa Literária Internacional de Paraty, FLUP Rio - Festival Literário das Periferias, FOLIO – Festival Literário Internacional de Óbidos, Festival Silêncio, Palavras Andarilhas, among others. The transdisciplinarity with which she approaches art, memory and society, attentive to social inequalities and allied to a desire to find and understand her roots, led her to return to the academy, where she develops her research focused on orature and slavery in São Tomé e Príncipe at the Center for Social Studies - University of Coimbra.

https://boca.pt/ingenuidade-inocencia-ignorancia