Toni Giselle Stuart
OCEAN HOME
OCEAANHUIS
nieuwe maan
bij laagtij trekken de golven zich terug, leggen
de rotsachtige kust bloot. blote voeten stappen en klauteren
langzaam over scherpe randjes en in plassen water.
ogen onderzoeken de kloven en verborgen putten
voor rietjes, oordopjes, lege zakjes chips, doppen,
snoepverpakkingen, vislijn, waterflesjes,
gloeistaafjes, draagtassen, lollystokjes
deze totems van onze snelle consumptie, die zwemmen
met zeesterren en zeenaaktslakken, groeien
naast zeeanemonen en plumeau-wormen
een dozijn vuile levens stromen over in de zwelling van de oceaan
eerste kwartier
voor het ochtendgloren humt de haven
met lopende motoren, naar achter geslingerde
touwen en uitgesmeten netten
vaders, ooms, echtgenoten, broers
gooien stille gebeden overboord
ze doen een beroep op de stromingen opdat zij meebewegen met
hun netten, om hun boten te vullen, om hun gezinnen
van voedsel te voorzien, zodat de lichten aan blijven,
ver in het diepe, de mannen herinneren zich
de verhalen van de zee als levend wezen
dat geëerd moeten worden voor diens voorziening
de mannen spreken van een tijd toen walvis
voorouder was, net als grot, en regen
en hoe regen in de oceaan begint
een dans tussen zon en zee: verdamping
water in lucht verkoelt diens adem: condensatie
wolken ademen uit en verschonen onze lucht: neerslag
rivieren, aarde, meren, nemen het water terug: verzameling
een eindeloze cyclus van geven en nemen
één die we blijven breken
maar wel kunnen herstellen
volle maan
dit is False Bay
dit is de baai van slavernij en vluchten
dit is de baai van treinsporen
dit is de baai van schipbreuken en vissers
dit is de baai van gedwongen dislocatie
dit is de baai van getijdenpoelen ‘alleen voor witte mensen’
dit is de baai waar Kwa Mata slaapt
dit is Table Bay
dit is de baai van Hoerikwaggo
dit is de baai van gekanaliseerde rivieren
dit is de baai van zoet water
dit is de baai van wasvrouwen aan de oevers van de rivier
dit is de baai van handel en reizen
dit is de baai waar onze voorouders vochten
dit is de baai waar onze voorouders overwonnen
en ver onder het oppervlak
in de donkere stilte die we niet kunnen zien, absorbeert
fytoplankton stikstof, geeft zuurstof vrij,
en produceert schone lucht om te ademen.
laatste kwartier
deze getijdenpoelen waren fuiken
vervaardigd door Khoe-handen, steen voor steen
nu zwemmen wij met octopus en zeehazen
zee-egels en inktvissen.
in het water worden alledaagse burgers
wetenschappers en de kinderen
van mensen gedwongen tot dislocatie,
keren terug om opnieuw te leren dat
de zee ook ons thuis is, dus met papier en potlood
of een app op een telefoon
nemen we op, verzamelen data, terwijl we deze
kust schoonmaken die generaties voor ons heeft gezorgd
we zwemmen, we duiken en onderzoeken de wereld
hieronder, en met elke stap in ondiep water,
met elke ademteug lang ingehouden
heugen wij ons om te vragen:
wie loopt met ons mee
wie zwemt met ons, wie ademt met ons?
OCEAN HOME
new moon
at low tide, the waves pull back, exposing
the rocky shore. bare feet step and scramble
slowly over ragged edges, and into pools.
eyes search the crevices and hidden wells
for straws, earbuds, chip packets, bottle tops,
sweet wrappers, fishing line, water bottles,
light sticks, carrier bags, lollipop sticks
these totems of our fast consumption, swimming
with starfish, and nudibranchs, growing
next to sea anemones, and feather duster worms
a dozen dirty lifetimes wash into the ocean’s swell
first quarter moon
before dawn, the harbour hums
with engines switched on, ropes
whipped back and nets hurled on
fathers, uncles, husbands, brothers
throw silent prayers overboard
calling for the currents to run with
their nets, to fill their boats, to feed
their families, keep the lights on,
out in the deep water, the men remember
the stories of sea as living being,
who must be honoured for its provision
the men speak of a time when whale
was ancestor, just as cave was, and rain
and how rain begins in the ocean
a dance between sun and sea: evaporation
water in air cools its breath: condensation
clouds exhale to cleanse our skies: precipitation
rivers, soil, lakes, take the water back: collection
an endless cycle of give and take
one we keep breaking
but have the power to repair
full moon
this is False Bay
this is the bay of slavery and escape
this is the bay of railway lines
this is the bay of ship wrecks and fishermen
this is the bay of forced removals
this is the bay of tidal pools for “whites only”
this is the bay where Kwa Mata sleeps
this is Table Bay
this is the bay of Hoerikwaggo
this is the bay of canalised rivers
this is the bay of sweet waters
this is the bay of washerwomen at the river
this is the bay of trade and travel
this is the bay where our ancestors fought
this is the bay where our ancestors won
and deep below the surface
in the dark stillness we cannot see, phytoplankton
absorb carbon, release oxygen
creating clean air for us to breathe
third quarter moon
these tidal pools were fish traps
built by Khoe hands, stone for stone
now we swim with octopus and sea hare,
urchins and cuttlefish.
in the water, ordinary citizens
become scientists and the children,
of people forcibly removed,
return to learn again that
the sea is our home too. so with paper
and pencil, or an app on a phone
we record, collect data, as we clean
this shore that has fed us for generations
we swim, we dive and explore the world
below, and with each wade into shallow waters,
with each deep breath held long
we remember to ask: who walks with us,
who swims with us, who breathes with us?
OCEAN HOME
new moon
at low tide, the waves pull back, exposing
the rocky shore. bare feet step and scramble
slowly over ragged edges, and into pools.
eyes search the crevices and hidden wells
for straws, earbuds, chip packets, bottle tops,
sweet wrappers, fishing line, water bottles,
light sticks, carrier bags, lollipop sticks
these totems of our fast consumption, swimming
with starfish, and nudibranchs, growing
next to sea anemones, and feather duster worms
a dozen dirty lifetimes wash into the ocean’s swell
first quarter moon
before dawn, the harbour hums
with engines switched on, ropes
whipped back and nets hurled on
fathers, uncles, husbands, brothers
throw silent prayers overboard
calling for the currents to run with
their nets, to fill their boats, to feed
their families, keep the lights on,
out in the deep water, the men remember
the stories of sea as living being,
who must be honoured for its provision
the men speak of a time when whale
was ancestor, just as cave was, and rain
and how rain begins in the ocean
a dance between sun and sea: evaporation
water in air cools its breath: condensation
clouds exhale to cleanse our skies: precipitation
rivers, soil, lakes, take the water back: collection
an endless cycle of give and take
one we keep breaking
but have the power to repair
full moon
this is False Bay
this is the bay of slavery and escape
this is the bay of railway lines
this is the bay of ship wrecks and fishermen
this is the bay of forced removals
this is the bay of tidal pools for “whites only”
this is the bay where Kwa Mata sleeps
this is Table Bay
this is the bay of Hoerikwaggo
this is the bay of canalised rivers
this is the bay of sweet waters
this is the bay of washerwomen at the river
this is the bay of trade and travel
this is the bay where our ancestors fought
this is the bay where our ancestors won
and deep below the surface
in the dark stillness we cannot see, phytoplankton
absorb carbon, release oxygen
creating clean air for us to breathe
third quarter moon
these tidal pools were fish traps
built by Khoe hands, stone for stone
now we swim with octopus and sea hare,
urchins and cuttlefish.
in the water, ordinary citizens
become scientists and the children,
of people forcibly removed,
return to learn again that
the sea is our home too. so with paper
and pencil, or an app on a phone
we record, collect data, as we clean
this shore that has fed us for generations
we swim, we dive and explore the world
below, and with each wade into shallow waters,
with each deep breath held long
we remember to ask: who walks with us,
who swims with us, who breathes with us?
OCEAN HOME
Sponsors
![Gemeente Rotterdam](/images/logo-GR_Basis_RGB_2021.png)
![Nederlands Letterenfonds](/images/logo-Nederlands-Letterenfonds-logo-RGB.png)
![Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds](/images/logo-stichting-van-beuningen-peterich-fonds.png)
![Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds](/images/cf_logo-zwart.png)
![Lira fonds](/images/logo-Lira_fond.png)
![Versopolis](/images/sponsors/logo_versopolis.png)
![J.E. Jurriaanse](/images/sponsors/logo_J_E_Jurriaanse_2020.png)
![Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie](/images/sponsors/logo_NL_fundedbyEU.png)
![Elise Mathilde Fonds](/images/sponsors/logo_EliseMathilde.png)
![Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot](/images/sponsors/logo_VanWijngaarden-Boot.png)
![Veerhuis](/images/sponsors/logo_Veerhuis_2.png)
![VDM](/images/sponsors/logo_VDM.png)