Interpretation of “A black stoker from Djibouti” by Nikos Kavvadias

2024-09-26

This is a translation and commentary on a poem by Nikos Kavvadias. Kavvadias was one of the finest Greek poets of the 20th century. He was a sailor by trade. His poetry draws inspiration from his travels, blending the otherworldly with the quotidian.

Here is the poem turned into a beautiful rock song by Thanos Mikroutsikos, performed by Vasilis Papakonstantinou: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z0IDJInI3YI.

Below is the original poem, followed by my translation and subsequent commentary.

[ Also read: Dagger by Nikos Kavvadias (2022-09-25) and Mal du Départ by Nikos Kavvadias (2022-08-08). ]

Ένας νέγρος θερμαστής από το Τζιμπουτί

Εμρηνεία:  Βασίλης Παπακωνσταντίνου
Στίχοι:    Νίκος Καββαδίας
Μουσική:   Θάνος Μικρούτσικος


Ο Γουίλι ο μαύρος θερμαστής από το Τζιμπουτί
όταν από τη βάρδια του τη βραδινή σχολούσε
στην κάμαρά μου ερχότανε γελώντας να με βρει
κι ώρες πολλές για πράγματα περίεργα μου μιλούσε

Μου 'λεγε πως καπνίζουνε στο Αλγέρι το χασίς
και στο Άντεν πως χορεύοντας πίνουν την άσπρη σκόνη
κι έπειτα πως φωνάζουνε και πως μονολογούν
όταν η ζάλη μ' όνειρα περίεργα τους κυκλώνει

Μου 'λεγε ακόμα ότι είδε αυτός μια νύχτα που 'χε πιει
πως πάνω σ' άτι εκάλπαζε στην πλάτη της θαλάσσης
και πίσωθε του ετρέχανε γοργόνες με φτερά
«σαν πάμε στ' Άντεν» μου 'λεγε «κι εσύ θα δοκιμάσεις»

Εγώ γλυκά του χάριζα και λάμες ξυραφιών
και του 'λεγα πως το χασίς τον άνθρωπο σκοτώνει
και τότε αυτός συνήθιζε γελώντας τρανταχτά
με το 'να χέρι του ψηλά πολύ να με σηκώνει

Μες στο τεράστιο σώμα του είχε μια αθώα καρδιά
κάποια νυχτιά μέσα στο μπαρ Ρετζίνα στη Μαρσίλια
για να φυλάξει εμένα από έναν Ισπανό
έφαγε αυτός μια αδειανή στην κεφαλή μποτίλια

Μια μέρα τον αφήσαμε στεγνό απ' τον πυρετό
πέρα στην Άπω Ανατολή να φλέγεται να λιώνει
θεέ των μαύρων, τον καλό συγχώρεσε Γουίλ
και δώσ' του εκεί που βρίσκεται λίγη απ' την άσπρη σκόνη

A black stoker from Djibouti

Singer:  Vasilis Papakonstantinou
Lyrics:  Nikos Kavvadias
Music:   Thanos Mikroutsikos


Willie the black stoker from Djibouti
when he would finish his night shift
he would visit my room while laughing
and would talk for hours about strange things

He would tell me how they smoke hashish in Algiers
and how at Aden they inhale the white powder while dancing
and later how they would shout and talk to themselves
once the daze circled them with strange dreams

He would tell me further that he saw one night he had smoked
that he was riding a stallion across the sea
behind which were running mermaids with wings
"once we visit Aden" he would say "you too shall try it"

I offered him sweets and razor blades
and told him that hashish kills a man
and he used to laugh strongly
as he would lift me high with one hand

In his large body he had an innocent heart
a night at the Regina bar in Marseille
to protect me from a Spaniard
he got hit on the head with an empty bottle

One day we left him dry from fever
away in the Far East to burn and melt
god of the blacks forgive kind Will
and offer him wherever he is a bit of that white powder

There are three interwoven themes herein: (i) travelling the world as a sailor in anticipation of new challenges and adventures, (ii) how people of different cultures develop a sense of camaraderie through their shared experiences, and (iii) tolerating different cultures and diverse ways of expression, including those that involve the use of substances that are considered illegal in many parts of the world.

Willie is presented to us as a genuine, kind-spirited man who does not abuse his undeniably superior physical prowess. Willie speaks fondly of the psychotropic substances that he has witnessed. The people who ritually use them are not described in condemnatory terms. Instead, their ways of life are respected: Willie thinks highly of them, while the poetic first person expresses scepticism about their putative benign effects. Still, tolerance is evident in the attitude of the poetic “I”, who asks the god of those peoples to treat the kind stoker to a serving of the fabled white powder. This indicates that the author sees no moral transgression in this act, even if it may not be the healthiest course of action for a person.

[ Watch/listen: Seeking pleasures (2024-08-18). ]

The friendship between Nikos and Willie is strong, showing us how a Greek and a Djiboutian have a lot in common despite differences in appearance and cultural expression. What brings people together is their willingness to have a shared experience. Rather than let their uninformed prejudices and fears guide their behaviour, they show openness towards each other. To learn and to appreciate, not to judge prematurely.

Race is such a dubious concept, anyway. Relative to someone like Willie, I would be considered “white” though I remember clearly how some would tell me that it is important to dress well in Brussels to avoid any issues with my “North African looks”. I consider it a sign of feebleness to treat a person on the basis of some physical characteristic of theirs and to thus fail to acknowledge their individual merits.

The poetic “I” describes Willie as “black” without attaching an implicit judgement: they are good friends who spend a lot of time together and care for each other. Whereas those who would advise me about my “North African looks” implied that I could pass for somebody who is seen with suspicion. It is in this tacit claim where we find racism: your looks or background determine your quality as a person, ergo who should tone them down.

Same principle for a person’s modus vivendi. It is easy to be condescending towards those who make use of certain substances, for example, and to pretend to hold the moral high ground. I find that this attitude is most common among those who purport to love others the most and who profess tolerance—they love and tolerate everybody more than you could imagine, sure! When you hear such people speak, there is an obvious hatred in their exposition. Their worldview is that their way is the only right way and everything else should be dismissed as sinful, ungodly, idolatrous, et cetera. They speak in terms of love, but will happily undo your way of life to show you just how much they care about you.

In the poem, there is no moral grandstanding of this sort. The author believes that hashish kills people, but will not actively oppose its consumption nor be inimical to those who have used it. When it comes to different cultures, this is especially important as it highlights an outlook of non-interference. Whereas imperialism will be rooted in—and typically made manifest as—exhortations about how everybody “should” live. We witness it daily on Western media how basically every country except Western ones is some sort of “shithole” (at times that exact word has been used and when it is not, you can feel the contempt behind its otherwise politically correct alternatives).

May the god of Willie be kind to him and his fellow compatriots and may the gods of this world enlighten those who only know how to bully others while playing the victim.