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domingo, 10 de noviembre de 2013


Comparte dos hermosos poemas Águeda Rodríguez de Trujillo: uno en formato audiovisual y otro en formato texto. 
Una muy buena manera de introducir el tema de los matrimonios forzosos que siguen siendo la pauta en muchas culturas.

Forced marriage

To be forced into an arranged marriage
The plane tickets for Pakistan are all ready
The passports are all ready
The family is ready; but I am not ready,

Forced into a loveless marriage
Reached Pakistan; To warm; couldn’t live there!
Arrangements being made; against my will

Bridal gown; jewellery; wedding reception
Everything being done against my will
Who can I complain to? Who will listen?

My own family will not listen; they are my enemies
The mehndi is put on my hands and feet
The oil is put in my hair as if blood has been shed

Slowly dripping down my lonely soul
The satin maroon bridal dress has come,
Laid out like a sheet over the deceased coffin

Fancy silver slippers, Golden heeled wedding shoes
The jewellery lay out as if I were sold
Yes, sold for the price of my freedom

Silver anklets round my ankles
Like a metal ball and chain that will forever
Hold me down, that will forever keep me from escaping

Golden bangles spread up to my arms
Remind me of deadly eternal locked handcuffs
Colourful glass bangles cut into my very skin

Drawing blood from inside my heart and soul
This is not a marriage? It is some sort of barter
The coming in laws have asked for everything

To fill their house; to fill their pockets
Then reality takes over; I then realise my parents
Do not care! Why are they putting me through this punishment?

Death would be more welcome for me
I could not live in a place that as been  compared to a warm oven
A place where women are regarded as second class citizens

Where women are covered from top to bottom
I was born in England; I was born to rebel
To stand up for my rights; to fight for my rights

What are my parents doing; cant they understand
I don’t want to live here; I don't want to marry this man
As the man I am about to marry is twenty years older than me

He may be rich; but he can never make me happy
The molvi (priest) has come, he asks me three times
If I accept this man as my husband; I am quite I cannot think,

I have no choice; the poison is near. Just one drop then two
I am now in another world away from hurt; away from deceit
I am in a place of  being looked after and  loved

I am with the angels; the hurt has ceased, I am now in total peace.

Cisslyn Ramdeo

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