domingo, agosto 27, 2006

"Famine"


Sinéad O´Connor (Dublín, 8 de diciembre de 1966) siempre me cayó bien. Desde el salvaje primer disco que le oí, "The lion & the cobra" (1988), con su espeluznante "Mandinka" y otras, pasando por el famoso "I do not want what I haven´t got" (1990), con el ultra-hit, escrito por Prince, "Nothing Compares 2U" y canciones ENORMES del tipo "Black Boys on Mopeds" o "Jump in the River", hasta llegar, a través de colaboraciones tanto en películas ("In the name of the father", de Jim Sheridan; "The Butcher Boy", de Neil Jordan) como en recopilaciones ("You do something to me", de Cole Porter, en el maravilloso "Red, Hot & Blue"), a su, por fin, maduro "Universal Mother" (1994); no te pierdas, por nada del mundo, "All babies", "In this heart" y "John, I love you", entre otras, labradas con una técnica vocal y una sensibilidad exquisitas. Y aquí me he quedado yo en lo que respecta a Sinéad, de quien sé, además, que ha sacado más discos y que está embarazada de su cuarto hijo, con su tercera pareja consecutiva. Pero no me da ninguna vergüenza quedarme aquí porque, además de que os dejaré un par de links por si estáis interesados/as en lo que se traiga entre manos la inquieta irlandesa, he llegado hasta aquí no exclusivamente por ella, sino más bien por su excelente canción-rap titulada "Famine" (de ahí las patatas de la foto) en la que la O´Connor narra, de forma magnífica, su versión, distinta a la oficialmente trasmitida en las escuelas, de lo realmente ocurrido en el infaustamente famoso "Black 47" o "hambruna de la patata" en Irlanda. Se me ha ocurrido que lo que hicieron los ingleses al pueblo irlandés entonces es perfectamente aplicable a los delirantes traumas que muchas naciones, hoy en día, provocan en otras, y Sinéad, en su canción, explica perfecta y claramente las consecuencias que esos abusos y agresiones producen, a corto, medio y largo plazo, en los pueblos víctimas de esos masivos y repetidos dislates. Que os guste.

(Espero que entendáis la letra; no es difícil. Si no, otro día, que hoy estoy ya muy cansada, la traduzco. Besos).

"Famine", by Sinéad O´Connor ("Universal Mother", 1994)

OK, I want to talk about Ireland
Specifically I want to talk about the famine
About the fact that there never really was one
There was no famine
See Irish people were only allowed to eat potatoes
All of the other food
Meat fish vegetables
Were shipped out of the country under armed guard
To England while the Irish people starved
And then on the middle of all this
They gave us money not to teach our children Irish
And so we lost our history
And this is what I think is still hurting me
See we're like a child that's been battered
Has to drive itself out of its head because it's frightened
Still feels all the painful feelings
But they lose contact with the memory
And this leads to massive self-destruction
Alcoholism, drug adiction
All desperate attempts at running
And in its worst form
Becomes actual killing
And if there ever is gonna be healing
There has to be remembering
And then grieving
So that there then can be forgiving
There has to be knowledge and understanding
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from
An American army regulation
says you mustn't kill more than 10% of a nation
'Cos to do so causes permanent "psychological damage"
It's not permanent but they didn't know that
Anyway during the supposed "famine"
We lost a lot more than 10% of our nation
Through deaths on land or on ships of emigration
But what finally broke us was not starvation
BUT ITS USE IN THE CONTROLLING OF OUR EDUCATION
Schools go on about "Black 47"
On and on about "The Terrible Famine"
But what they don't say is in truth
There really never was one
(Excuse me)
All the lonely people
(I'm sorry, excuse me)
Where do they all come from
(that I can tell you in one word)
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong
So let's take a look shall we
The highest statistics of child abuse in the EEC
And we say we're a Christian country
But we've lost contact with our history
See we used to worship God as a mother
We're suffering from POST TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER
Look at all our old men in the pubs
Look at all our young people on drugs
We used to worship God as a mother
Now look at what we're doing to each other
We've even made killers of ourselves
The most child-like trusting people in the Universe
And this is what's wrong with us
Our history books the parent figures lied to us
I see the Irish
As a race like a child
That got itself bashed in the face
And if there ever is gonna be healing
There has to be remembering
And then grieving
So that there then can be forgiving
There has to be knowledge and understanding
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sin%C3%A9ad_O'Connor
http://www.sinead-oconnor.com/