Polepole

Photograph by Liz Burroughs taken at a Restory Contemplative Photography retreat

On a recent visit to the island Lamu off the coast of Kenya, our friend Lizzie bought herself a beautiful ethnic bracelet. She constantly wears it. It is her reminder of an approach to life she often came across while being on Lamu that is captured in the word “polepole”. In Swahili it means "slowly, gently, softly, quietly; be calm, take it quietly, don't excite yourself, never mind". For instance, on stepping off the pier into a dau, one of the traditional wooden sailing boats, the guide would say, “polepole” – “slowly, gently, don’t excite yourself”. Now, whenever she has a hectic day  at the office, or she’s in a stressful meeting she would look down on her bracelet, gently reminding her, “polepole”.

I don’t know whether Pablo Neruda was familiar with Lizzie’s Swahili word, but he would have loved the idea behind her bracelet:

KEEPING QUIET

Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.

For once on the face of the earth,
let's not speak in any language;
let's stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.

Fisherman in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.

Now I'll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.

—from Extravagaria (translated by Alastair Reid, pp. 27-29, 1974)


George