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Voor Emmy

Zijn het pluimen of bladeren
die ontsnappen uit je binnenste hartkamer
of is het de gloed van de kleur van kloppend bloed
hunkerend naar de stilte van rimpelloos

Als haar handen vloeibaar worden
krijgt de piano vleugels op het doek
Een boom verbijt haar vergezicht
In de diepte luisteren wortels verrukt
naar de zachte braille van haar bestaan
Tuinen hangen van de wolken
omlaag, omhoog groeien vreemde bloemen
uit een ingebeelde notenbalk.

Guido Vermeulen
14 november 2011

Muziek bij de video: Claude Debussy

zaterdag 7 juli 2012

Dear Lumumba, where are your teeth?

Collage A4 and a very emotional one for me!

On the assassination of Patrice Lumumba, 1925 - 1961 (decided by the CIA, UN officials, the Belgian government and royal family):

Four days later, two Belgians were sent to exhume the bodies, cut them up with a metal saw, crush the skulls, and throw everything in a tank of sulfuric acid. In a recent reconstruction of the facts carried out by the Belgian VRT network, Gerard Soete, a police chief who worked for the Katanga regime, confessed - as did De Witte - that he was ordered to make the cadaver disappear with sulfuric acid, a task he carried out with his brother. He added: "It was not easy, we had to cut them up. I kept two of Lumumba's teeth and a bullet covered with part of the skull as souvenirs." All of this was recounted without his showing any emotion.

(the whole plot was to disappear the body of the first leader of independent Congo and to erase all possible traces, including dental testimony, the teeth were thrown in the ocean, except the souvenirs Gerard Soete kept in a very morbid way. He confessed the truth just before he died and  had to testify before a parliamentary investigation commission;

More info:

I also want to pay tribute here to the Belgian poet HUGO CLAUS (1929-2008) who was one of the only Belgian  writers who exposed the attrocities committed by the royal family and government of Belgium in the Congo.
He wrote tribute poems to Lumumba. I scan below the last one he wrote \(in Dutch and French translation by Marnix Vincent). I read this poem during a meeting to honor Claus’ memory after his death.
Frankly I have NEVER recovered from his passing and probably never will. 

Final sentence of this powerful poem:

The god of the albinos sits on your corps as on a public toilet

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