The ancestors have said
The scent of the forest is the scent of rosewood;
The scent of the earth, the scent of vanilla;
But we say that speech is the scent of the meeting.
The thin cow is the duty of the shepherd;
The chicken that does not crow, the duty of the farmer;
The speech, if disrespectful, is the duty of the speaker.
If you do not consider me to be a speaker,
Forgive me, I am just a daughter of my parents,
Standing here, not because of my pride or luxury,
But because there is no one elder left to speak.
This is a speech that has lost its name,
And is, in fact, not a speech at all.
Born was I here in these sacred, rolling hills.
Happily, I played along the nearby rice fields
Enjoying the customs of our village life.
But the rains were short and cicadas many.
Vary ran out, and vandals stole our zebu.
We barely had any work or much to eat.
My parents gathered us nine together; and
Though they regretted leaving the ancestors,
They decided to bring us from the countryside
To live in the town of a thousand towns.
I, who had no shoes to put on my feet,
Only brought two dresses and lamba.
We lived in Tana for thirty-some years
Making our living on the parent’s shoulders.
But we are now back here at the family tomb
To show respect to them and the ancestors.
This famadihana is of course very special.
My parents bones have lain here nigh 25 years.
Dear folks, as you listen to my meager words,
I will now with humility enter the family tomb.
I ask the kind indulgence of our forebears
To remove and clean my parents’ hallowed bones
And then re-wrap them in newly woven lamba,
So I may return them to their deserved rest.
Lastly, I ask again your forgiveness
For using your time to hear this poor speaker.
Join me today to honor my parents
As they become our newest ancestors.
May the Sweet Lord grant you the happiness
That my dear parents bestowed upon me.
– Kabary, a traditional, stylized speech given on special occasions in Madagascar, usually by a male elder.
© 1985, Kenneth Koziol. All rights reserved.
