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2005
- Saloni M presents The Shades of Love
Tosn
Reshid
Twelve
years ago Tosn
Reshid arrived with his family from Armenia, which is now part
of the Soviet Union. He is an acclaimed author of eight books, comprising
four books of poetry, two of short stories, one of essays and one of plays.
As well as in Armenia, three books have been published in Sweden, two
in Germany and one is soon to be published in Turkey. Currently, none
of his work has been translated in English, but hopefully this will be
rectified in the near future.
He has
a PhD in Chemistry. In Armenia he worked, for over forty years, as a Scientist,
Journalist and Writer. As a Journalist, he specialised in the area of
Kurdish culture and literature. With his wife, Nure Gaware, who has a
PhD in Ethno-Musicology, he has collected over 10,000 Kurdish folksongs.
Although
he has lived in Australia for 12 years, it is only in the last seven years
that his status has become 'permanent'. Before then, he had no status
whatsoever, so was not permitted to work or receive unemployment benefits.
For
the Saloni M
swims East event in 2003,
he presented:
Three poems Her Son Was Killed, Peshmerga's
letter and Untitled,
which he read in Kurdish, accompanied by Angela Costi, who read English
translations. (The translations involved some editing by Angela Costi.)
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Her
Son Was Killed
Mother made her both hands
like sticks (for a drum)
her chest like a drum
she hits and hits with her fists
scratching the black blood
into her face
the tracks of heavy ploughs
beautiful and proud head
becomes lowered
headscarf slides down
falls on shoulders
…..
black eyes
full with energy and fire
have gone deep inside
becoming an infertile cow’s breast
dry and thin
her son was killed
and mother screamed like a wolf
became a bear for gorges
she lost her faith
turned up her face to the sky
screamed and wept.
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The following is an extract of Tosn's long poem
based on a Freedom Fighter's letter to his lover.
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Peshmerga's
letter
.....
My love!
Wipe the tears from your eyes
Spread your beauty and pride
So the barrels of guns
Directed at your chest
Are curved
And the enemy's hands and fingers
Shake on triggers of machineguns
My love!
Grief struck mothers
Put us to sleep
With songs of war and heroism
They fed us
With cries, tears, groans
With words from childhood fairytales
The words of murder, torture and prison
We are dominated
....
My love!
So that our children
Decorate their passports
By a word Kurdistan
So that our country
Shrunk on the map
Opens her wings like a mountain eagle
And paints her four pieces
In one colour
So that you tie your head
With a pink headscarf
That your laughter be heard
Everywhere in the world
We will paint with our blood
Like that of sacrificial lambs
The foreheads of our mountains.
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The following poem is born out of
Tosn's experience as a Kurd
and having to leave his country.
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Untitled
It is hot, there is no wind
Sun, out of spite
Stops in the centre of the sky
It doesn’t move
The air becomes a steam of sweat
Strangles
Do you know what hope is?
And do you know how sometimes
It disappears for people
People become lost
Pull out their hair
Tear their clothes
They hit their heads with stones
Just to make something ‘a hope’ for themselves.
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© Tosn
Reshid 2003.
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