SAME/Difference 'The Hearth'.

SAME/Difference is a creative writing and photography project devised by Quotidian artists Maria McManus, Viviana Fiorentino, Nandi Jola and Bernarde Lynn. This is the second implementation of the project. (See SAME/Difference 1 project here)

The project examines the concept of identity, belonging, home, diversity and peace-building, through creative writing and expressive abilities and explores the lived – experience of migration.  We have been keen to include people from minority ethnic groups whose first language is other than English and that our experienced team of artists supported the group to make creative inquiry  of both the challenges and enriching perspective of life in a ‘new ground’ and the lived-experience of  ‘home’. 

Supported by The Community Relations Council through the CR/CD Small Grants Scheme.

Extracts from participants poems and prose:

Lamis Kalaf (Kurdish Syria)

[Arabic]

ايديك و احب لمسه ايديك واتمنى الشمه رائحتك امي انت احسن امراه في الدنيا يا امي يا حبيبتي امي انت تعبتي عليه حملتني تسعه اشهر امي كبرتني وعلمتني وتعبت على وهي اد ما تعبت عليه امي حبيبتي وانت قلبي امي جنه اتمنى ارجع صغيره نتمنى انا واخواتي ونرجع صغار ولمه امي امي انت الدنيا امي انا شو عملت لك فقط قليل جدا امي انا اعطيك روحي حبيبتي يا امي القاك قريبا

Letter to my Mother

[English]

My dear Mum, 

My wish is to meet you and

 kneel to kiss your hands

 to kiss the dust under your feet,

I wish

to become little again

to be in your arms,

I love the touch of your hands,

I wish to smell your scent,

you are my love,

Mum

you suffered a lot for me and as much as

you suffered, you are deep in my heart,

you, my paradise,

I wish to become little again

with my siblings

to gather again all together with you,

Mum

my whole world,

Mum, I will meet with you soon.

A small room

Full of furniture

Outside a calendula flower.

A room is melancholy.

Stefania Gualberti (Italy)

A Journey

Sun shining on my legs and a fresh breeze,
birds’ songs from the garden, smell of laundry hanging to dry.
On the wall, casually hanging, a patchwork of a life together.

I play distractedly with our beautiful, fragile, and intricate shared leaf necklace and
suddenly I go back to the year 2001 when we are all leaving under the same roof.

I draw a map of objects in my life.

The blanket my nineteen years old mum knitted for me when I was born, and all my sisters used, and then gave me when I was pregnant. Surprisingly twenty-seven years later she had to look for the same pattern and make another identical one, I was having twins.

The portone which my grandpa opened all the time we returned to Sardinia, where I was born, my mum’s hometown. Times of warmth, family, aunties, cousins and loved and less loved uncles, being together, minestrina, pistoccus and the smell of coffee, zafferano, fireplace, celebrations, beautiful cold deep blue sea and restoring sun. It opened on a pebbled and glorious garden, always full of flowers, an olive tree, cats and the open arms of my nonna.

A winged bottle opener and corkscrew, Roby, which my dad with his strong and callus hands stained of cement would make talk and say jokes and go into all sort of adventures under attentive ears of curious daughters with open eyes and smiles bigger than their faces.

The wedding ring, with the name and the date of a promise made by two young, naïve and madly in love children who decided to grow up together and make up for a previous lost life.

The blankets, again, to close the circle, and Elia and Emma’s hospital bracelets: baby boy Gualberti 26/03/2011 5.25am; baby girl Gualberti 26/03/2011 5.50am. When I felt the strongest, most powerful, almost divine, and most vulnerable and fragile in my all life. When my heart expanded, when you came out of me through blood, tears and pain, you became a reality with the support of my love, my rock, my anchor and my mum who I could, only then, begin to forgive, understand. I look outside the window and under the changing sky I see the mountains, their outline, I feel at peace, from my window here in Belfast, or from my parent’s home in Viareggio or when I travel South and see the Mournes, I feel home.

Valeria Mazziotti (Italy)

[Italian]


Cammina in riva al Mare

Senti le fresche acque

Posa il tuo sguardo su qualsiasi cosa tu voglia

Percepisci l’onda fuori e dentro di te


Noi siamo Acqua


Il nostro sangue ed i nostri pensieri 

sono fatti di essa

Siamo circondati dal blu


Acqua


Lei è sempre con me

A casa, quando viaggio, quando

 esco per una passeggiata a piedi o in bici.

Ho nuotato per avere nuovi occhi

e l’Oceano mi ha donato piccoli tesori


L’Acqua è Vita

è Madre

è Tempesta.


Se chiudo i miei occhi

posso sentirmi in acqua

con mio Padre a fare tuffi

un’eco dalle profondità mi ricorda

tu sei libero

tu appartieni al Mare.




Acqua / Water

[English]


Walk by the Sea

Feel the fresh water

Pose your eyes on whatever you want

Perceive the wave outside and inside you


we are Water


our blood and our thoughts are made of it

we are surrounded by the blue


water


it is always with me

at home, when I travel, 

when I go out for a walk or

for a ride

I swam for new eyes

and the Ocean gave to me little treasures


water is life

is Mother

is Storm


if I close my eyes

I can feel myself into the water

with my Father doing dips

a deep echo reminds me

you are free

you belong to the Sea.



La mia famiglia è un albero di Limoni

[Italian]

La mia famiglia è un albero di Limoni

con lunghe radici che affondano nel Mare.

 

Tutti i nostri ricordi

aono custoditi in una conchiglia

quando la porto al mio orecchio

inizia un canto.

 

Anche se pedalo lontano da casa

l’odore di zagara guarisce la mia anima.

My family is a lemon tree

[English]

My family is a lemon tree

with long roots that sink into the Sea.

 

All our memories

are kept in a shell

when I bring it to my ear

a song begins.

 

Even if I ride away from home

the scent of lemon blossom heals my soul.

Mihaela Draghia (Romania, Italy)

La mia valigia rossa e i miei sogni/ My red suitcase and my dreams

[Italian]

La mia valigia rossa

Ho lasciato per la prima volta

il mio paese di origine

Ero così giovane

la valigia così piccola

tanti grandi sogni a l’interno

Poi è arrivato il mio snowboard

il senso di libertà

Nel mezzo delle montagne giganti.

Adesso ho una moto

Io sono forte

Combatto per un sogno.

E la chiave della mia prima casa

Finalmente ho realizzato

il mio sogno più grande

dove riunirsi e condividere l’amore.

Indosso 

i miei occhiali da sole verdi

ed è il mio

estate, il mio mare

Ho un angolino

nel mio giardino che 

anche se è buio.

Guardo il cielo

con il mio telescopio

l’Universo sopra di me.

Io ne faccio parte.

Sono come una piccola stella 

che cerca di continuare a brillare.

[English]

My red suitcase 

I left my country of origin for the first time

I was so young

the suitcase so small 

so many big dreams inside.

Then it came my snowboard 

the sense of freedom 

The mids of giant mountains.

I have now a motorbike

I’m strong 

I fight for a dream.

And the key of my first house

I finally realised my biggest dream 

reunite and share love.

I wear

my green sunglasses 

and it’s my

summer, my sea.

I have a little corner

in my garden 

even if it is dark.

I look at the sky 

with my telescope 

the Universe above me. 

I’m part of it.

I’m like a little star who is trying to keep

 shining.

Mehrshad Esfandiari (Iran)

Photography from Mehrshad Esfandiari

My name is Mehrshad Esfandiari, I am from Iran and I’ve been living in Northern Ireland since 2016.

My job is a debt advisor trainee. My hobbies are cycling, jogging , walking , Karate and photography.

Nada Adam (Sudan)

Coffee Kettle

Mud, clay and soil of Sudan
My land
Mother gifted me this kettle
On my travels to Europe
At our home, coffee is sacred
It is ritualistic to sit around the table
Our big house
My home
My sisters and brothers

Sudan

In a frame
I go back to 2009
Time frozen in my memory still
The laughs
We said our goodbyes
To the land
It’s people
Then, to the home
Family home.

Amanda Zine Suka (South Africa)

South Africa

[English]

South Africa

Six forty-five in the morning

I land

I see her

My beautiful sister

She reaches her hand as I touch her

And I look

 

I remember the field of red roses

The blood-stained sheets

Sky so red

Then we embraced

She hasn’t seen me since I lost my hair.

Belfast

[Xhosa]

Sisithethe

Kububusuku obungaphambili

Intliziyo yam iligazi

Ukuhamba ngenqwelo moya

Iiyure ezine

Kuphambi kobusuku obandulela ndihambe

Ndiwajonga kabini amaxesha uqinisekisa

NdikuqiniNdikhuphaDendizidine

Kavita Thanki (Belfast ~ India ~ Africa)

Like a palm reader I see in my hand my life,
I see my web of life.

I see my mother knocking back and kneading,
a different bread to what my father makes:
the sourdough fermented and grown slow,
the rotli rolled thin and tipped from tawa to flame.

I see my dadabapu on his typewriter, only forefingers moving,
words flowing forth in a language I will never know;
while his wife, my dadima, wholly and efficiently
set every bone and muscle, every digit moving.

 

I see my Granda Shannon hand over his old Aran jumper
to be unpicked, skeined, washed, balled,
re-knit into something new.
It’s the way of my people, it’s what we’ve always done —
taking past lives from past places, far away and half-forgotten,
these clever, calloused hands know how
to reimagine, rewrite, re-combine.
I am living proof, a starter culture made
from chapatti atta.

Like a palm reader I see all the things a hand has done,
and all it’s yet to do.

Khanyisa Mafumo (South Africa)

Ek sein kinders in die straat / I see, children in the street

[Zulu]

Ngi zwa… imoto kumatasa ingendlela yo ku phila, izinyathelo, ukuhleka,

ukuhleka, ukumemeza, umsindo wo muhle wezilwane

ngizwa ukuthula, ukukhala kwa ambulance ne msindo we zingoma

 

 

[English]

Imagine… in a conservatory, getting lost in the “inside out” being inside and exploring and experiencing the outside.

Being mesmerised by wonders of nature and connecting my inside, soul to the outside soul. Finding a balance of life.

[Afrikaans]

Mooi straat

Soms is dit gelukkig

Soms huil dit

Soms is dit vreedsaam

Soms is soos ek in baie manière

Dit is soms verbaas

Maar het tog n pragtige siel en atmosfeer

[Tsonga and English]

Hinkwaswo leswi ingaku hi mina; switarata, maxelo, vamakhelwani hinkwaswo ingaku hi mina.

Kuphensaphensa hi tindela hinkwato ka fambiwa, ka vuyiwa kustsakiwile, ka hlekiwa ka kwatiwa.

Minkarhi yi nwani ku thyakile, minkarhi yinwani ku basile…kuna mberha, xi vavisekile hi trauma, xitwa kuvava

Xa tikeriwa hi stress, Kambe handle ka swona xa hari kona, xina matimba

Xi ya mahlweni na vutomi

 

How I wish…(Ndza navela)

I lived by the sea; (ku tshama thlelo ka lwandle)

To see its wonderful waves (ku vona magandlati yo saseka)

Wave at me in joy, anger, stress or in mixed emotions.

To see the sea change at every chance it gets and see it be still..and connect or agree with it’s rhythm of life.