Liliana Ancalao
Two poems translated from the Mapuzungun/Spanish by Seth Michelson
a photo on route 40
it no longer runs
from the Senguerr River to the Genoa
no matter how much mate and talk
we pour over
when walking the route
pu lamngen
it once led us to Copawe’s brown ash
another time the white wind didn’t recognize us
this time we returned splitting fog
always straining sight
not to miss footprints
the groundwater of memory
surges from the land
here dinosaurs blackened in their own oil
here the ash of the fires that burned
he of the choike feet
he who killed his father
he who left, teaching us the loneliness in waiting for him
still
here the snort of Orkeke’s and Casimiro’s horses
on one of their trips
to the Mapuche Applelands
and here those without memory
those who no longer raise their arms to
kalfuwenufuchá kalfuwenukushe
here the weather-beaten men
ready to make lassos of rawhide
and subject again the bull Chupey
to the brutal
beautiful
bellowing like that of the konas
trapped in thunder the thunder that our enclosed
people
and our lonco Inakayal heard
in the basement of this museum of the horrors
of the holocaust
o how memory goes to its affections
rises like the dew that chills the ankles
rises to the banks of these rivers
and stops us a moment on this route
we go out into air that bends us
that combs our hair as if we were scrub brush
and we take a photo of this image
for which we need no reminder
——————-
GLOSSARY:
Pu lamngen: my brothers and sisters
Copawe: Copawe, or Copahue, is a stratovolcano in the Andes on the border between Argentina and Chile
Choike: ostrich
Orkeke and Casimiro: Orkeke (c.1810-1884) was a Tehuelche cacique in territorial Argentina who led his people up and down Route 40 before being captured by the Argentine army for resisting the state’s authority and transferred to Buenos Aires, where he died. He also notably guided the British explorer George Chaworth Musters on his journey through Patago- nia in the 1850s. Casimiro Biguá (1819-1874) was a Tehuelche cacique in territorial Argentina who on 3 November 1869 raised the Argentine flag. On 5 July 1865 he was named a Lieutenant Colonel of the Argentine Army by Argentine President Bartolomé Mitre for his effort to recognize Argen- tine sovereignty over Tehuelche and Mapuche land.
Manzana Mapu: This refers to the swath of Patagonia containing vast apple orchards, which featured prominently in the Mapuche diet of the region and were termed manzanache or manzaneros by the Mapuche.
Kalfuwenufuchá kalfuwenukushe: this is Liliana’s Mapuche divine invocation, and it literally translates as Elders of the Blue Above
Konas: warriors
the women of Cushamen
To the memory of Meli, my grandma Peti,
my mother Eugenia, and my aunts Cecilia and Segunda
i will honor this memory
that guides me
that has come to me
from the depths of dream
i must ready my heart
and knead it on a four-legged table
bring a saddle blanket
fold it and cover the bench—
have a seat, have a seat—
and set my heart to work
i blow into the ashes
my breath my spilt newen—
ancient fire foremother
wake together
come see
the women
who’ve come to visit—
they look like chiñoras
with curly hair
with painted lips—
chiñoras—i say to them
to hear their laughter
in time returned
there
the day begins
always at the same hour
a husband dons coveralls boots
and climbs into a company truck
and she puts on the sneakers and kerchief
of an hourly maid
and walks to the central house
of the boss
and every monday means starching the children’s school uniforms
and memorized poems and times tables
time is a blade that comes down on you
and cuts away the excess
the words
the tears
the long looks at your babies
so that you’ll set off
punctually and efficiently
to work
now they see themselves in the face of my grandma Peti
and time is a horse at rest in a pasture
and i who never could manage time
studied to give forty-minute classes
and ten left over
or needed five more
now i write
which can be seen in my hands
that have neither splinters nor callouses
i never learned to butcher chicken
nor cared for an orphaned lamb through winter
during school vacations
we were permitted a trip
some distance to the row of poplars
an infinity to the bridge of the cakei river
to see that blue that always turned me inward
to where the rage
eased
to pass the land of lapwings and bustards
to reach the thistles and neneo
the dried footprint
the barking of dogs
to see them all and see myself
now we’re the indigenous
mapuche of argentina they tell us
also countrymen
settlers
araucanos they tell us
but i know we’re apple-picking mapuche
we set out together to see the orchard
here the trees murmur
in mapuzungun
but you have to ask permission of the hillside’s owner
to walk in its shade
Here where Juan Meli bathed each wiñoy tripantu
these seeds of the Manshana Mapu
arrived walking
after the Füta Raid by winka dogs
after escaping to the mountains
after the roundup
when we were carried off like animals
the women of Chichinales barely awake
when thrown
onto the hindquarters of horses
that’s how rough they were
small
green
and fragrant
words come and go
dizzied by alfalfa and apples
we return within
water of the eye water we women drink
in the passed mate—
this tea tastes thin
should i change the leaf or simply shift the bombilla?—
now
time is a laborer
eating steak in silence
in the kitchen