{"id":19041,"date":"2017-01-06T19:19:10","date_gmt":"2017-01-06T18:19:10","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.revuenoire.com\/en\/?p=19041"},"modified":"2022-11-09T12:14:16","modified_gmt":"2022-11-09T11:14:16","slug":"pol-mouketa-gabon","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.revuenoire.com\/en\/pol-mouketa-gabon\/","title":{"rendered":"Pol MOUKETA – Gabon"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n
\n\t

\"Pol<\/a>>
\u00a0\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Pol Mouketa, born in 1958 in Gabon.\u00a0<\/span>Filmmaker, radio host for Africa I, associated Director of the Centre National du Cinema in Gabon. \"Mal de Mots\" was performed at the Centre Culturel St-Exup\u00e9ry by the Th\u00e9\u00e2tre du Tigre, directed by Alougbine Dine.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0<\/em>
\u00a0\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Word Sickness<\/span><\/h1>\n

[published in RN 05, June 1992, original text written in French translated by Victoria C. Koppel]<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

\u2013 The sun is so red tonight\u2026 a lot of people must have died<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 It\u2019s not important (pout), well yes\u2026 But who exports, that's the question.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 No one, definitively, because who's ever found the definition of exportation?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 No, someone went over there, with the sun, he followed it from here\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 It\u2019s metallic, it's hard and soft. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 What, death ? Of course<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Well, that's life.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Like the sun and Nazaire: A \u2026 to \u2026 Z<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Voice off<\/span><\/p>\n

The dog left all by himself and didn't come back until years later. He'd grown up, gotten married, and even aged a little\u2026 The cat wouldn't let him run away. The mice stiff run around here \u2026 But when they saw each other again, when they were together again, their hearts were full of joy\u2026 Tears flowed from their eyes. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 We loved each other<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Us too <\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Is it worse no. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 No, it's no worse<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 The village tastes coarse<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Even more<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Not less <\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Yes, you !<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 What was it like?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Me ?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 No, how were \u00ab you \u00bb?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 What, me ? No, no, O.K\u2026 good.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Why?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Why ? What, you ! <\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013Well\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Yes in the end any thing goes, we tire of it<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 split<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Voice off<\/span><\/p>\n

Stop, stop, stop he screamed. Nobody heard him, the battle was raging, people were slitting each other's throats, tearing each other apart, attacking each other with art. Iron, blood. A moment, he had like a vision .\u2026 His son cut off a head\u2026 fell toward the west, towards the setting sun, took it with him and disappeared. The battle stopped as if disillusioned\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Your weapons, dogs, your weapons won't protect you. Your weapons don't scare us. They have betrayed, we'll hate them until the end of time\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 <\/span>Time<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Life\u2026 Time<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Space too. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Ah yes\u2026 space and rime <\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 \u00ab Master and possessor \u00bb<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 who?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Us, You, Them<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 No, Us, You, \u00abThey\u00bb<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 We want what ?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Nothing, nothing at all, we haven't wanted enough, we haven't lived enough, we're dead, that' s all.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013\u00a0To want is ...<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 To move<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 You have to be able co want to move<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 To see the world, to see life, to see death\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Death that' s life<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 No, no, no, death is death <\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Yes and life, that's L.I.F.E.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 That cut up ?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Who knows ?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Me !<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Me too I knew ; they saw it and chose life, freeing brothers, mothers and fathers. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Paradox<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Ad hoc<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 The cat butts into what's not his business. He interferes in the thread unwinding from the bobin. He gets into a muddle, gets tangled up in the thread<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 He\u2019ll get out of it <\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 with the help of the bobin<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Of space, of time, <\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 or of the Master.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Ah\u2026 Yes\u2026 the Master.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 But what the hell has he come for ?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 To put an end to\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 the \u00ab unwinding \u00bb, to get rid of, \u00ab to help \u00bb ...<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 \u00ab The river traveling alone, didn't have the unwinding it should have had \u00bb<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Does it complain ?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 \u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Leave, but just leave\u2026 and above all alone, like the river like the water that would never live in a box, a fort, a port\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 And the well then ?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 The we ell ! dead water ; yellow and stinking<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 The depth ?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 <\/span>In wells\u2026 the water is always everywhere and more. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Thank God !<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 \u2026 ? ? ?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Huh ?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Nothing<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Nothing ?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 That\u2019s good. We're on earth, and nothing but on earth. All attempts at escape are destined to fail which is to say to the sand, to the stones of the path, to the pink of the morning. The clouds even so high always end up falling. Us, Me first, the rest\u2026 The earth first ; then nothing more\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 And the gods ?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 of earth !<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 of iron, of blood, of fire, of water and of wind\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013Yes, of water, soft and\u2026 see you tomorrow.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 What ?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Like it was\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 lt\u2019s a hoop, eternal cycle\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Yes, but today ?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 And so ?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Nor yet\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Father<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Mother, life in the open, on the edges\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 infinite<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 man<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 yes, man<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 you<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 you<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Love life, save life, empty out there, LIVE FREE <\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 shut up. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Aunt\u2026 auntie is dead.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Mom too\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Who ?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Who ? Me, You, Them\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 All of us hey\u2026 \u00ab All of us \u00bb push us<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

voice off<\/span><\/p>\n

To fight was the only way to live. Not at all a solution, but to fight meant to live. To fight and the rest\u2026 And So\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Did they figh\u2122 ?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 In retrear\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 All of them ?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 You, Me? Them?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Above all\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

voice off<\/span><\/p>\n

Why, why ? tell me, answer me they screamed over the dead of the battlefield warm not long ago. Now, the eagle has flown away, in the sky spinning half-closed circles around a vulture with a skinned neck, waiting for his turn to take the stage. Vile cheating beast who we don't bring down to a lower level, what are you doing so high up ?<\/span><\/p>\n

Come down, come down here if you have the courage, come down here and fight, shameless thief, liar, scoundrel, christian only seen at burials, don't you even know that life exists too\u2026 anyway, it'll get you\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Death?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Life?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Say it <\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Who knows\u2026 No one no matter<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 If it doesn't export\u2026 No one unless it\u2019s\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 You, no, me<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 But it's a waste of time to cry for the dead, to put a hex on their head, to curse the sky, to bless the dead, it's a waste of time to scream, to cry, to rage, to spread, to communicate, disseminate, to complain, to whine, it's a waste of time these dead and with these dead we !ose our lives\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Life\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 With the sun\u2026 Towards the West\u2026 always\u2026 No, towards the East.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Pol Mouketa<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0<\/em>
\u00a0\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Pol Mouketa, \u00e9crivain du Gabon, text ‘Word Sickness’<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[250,64],"tags":[],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.revuenoire.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/19041"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.revuenoire.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.revuenoire.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.revuenoire.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.revuenoire.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=19041"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.revuenoire.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/19041\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":22567,"href":"https:\/\/www.revuenoire.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/19041\/revisions\/22567"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.revuenoire.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=19041"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.revuenoire.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=19041"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.revuenoire.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=19041"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}