MELANEO: A Mother’s Lullaby

(11.9.11:13.11.11.13.9.11.11)
A ballad by Samu Batara (1977)

Sleep my boy, my sweet little Melaneo:

This tree shade soothes the blazing sun’s worst.
Garden task we’ll carry on when it glides a bit.

With me in the open you’ll continue to behold

The grandeur of towering cliffs and mountains,
The deep purple sky with blots forming rain;
Virgin forests swaying in harmony with the wind;
Fertile fields and meadows painted green;
Glassy streams yonder murmuring, laughing;
Birds whistling, insects melodiously chanting.

You may never esteem creation’s blessings we now taste,

Swiftly from now, logs, timbers will be sawn down:
Woodland dries denuded, washed in erosion,
Successive heavy farm cropping wears the earth too tired;
New industries, technology foul
Our crystal waters, blue heavens, and being:
Birds driven off their nests and native dwelling.

You’d sit to chew betel nut with fellow villagers

Admiring panorama of peaks and hills.
You yet could then hunt wildlife in our jungles;
Canoe, swim and fish in our mellow rivers and seas;
Till prolific soil and sow verdures:
With rich dish you’ll thrive a sound vigorous man,
Not one more wreck of so-called malnutrition.
So sleep my son, my little Melaneo:
Some rest enables you faster grow
That you catch up to savor these bounteous boons.

For so rapid to note programs of development

As our land opes doors to foreign investments:
My fear is these nature’s gifts soon disappear,
Resources be exploited and drained out of the land.
How lucky will be if you’d get turn
To appreciate the peace, the health, and life force
Bestowed native wealth caters to toiling men!

Sooner or later in Sunday school class you learn

Of the maker, sustainer of these bounties:
An amazing knowledge of his love for men,
How he provides for man’s daily needs and sure future!
If you could receive such instructions
Before the church loses grips and persuasion
As secularization roots our nation.

You’ll also attend school with other country kids

And train to read, write, count and communicate:
Learn a more responsible citizenship.
It’s my noblest wish you could soon accomplish all this
Before discipline gets so alien,
Noble churchdom be silenced its acts and voice,
Wholesome morals and values disintegrate.

So sleep and rest, my little Melaneo:

Tomorrow you’ll mature a great one,
Nurtured, evolve to be true Melanesian.
You’ll soon be initiated full member of the clan:
Come gleeful occasions to don g-strings,
While the ladies their bark-cloth or grass-skirts;
Adorn this bare body with natural ornaments,
Know to beat the rhythm of kundu drums,
Dance along to keep customary singsings,
To preserve the heritage of our forebears.

Please do not imitate other youngsters, my dear son,

Who fled somewhere to fabled cities and towns:
Altogether lost the past, its legacies
Quickly acquired instead the culture of rock-and-roll,
Swayed into delinquency and crimes,
To magnets of gambling, alcohol and gangs,
Suasions of malady-passing courtesans.

As you increase in stature and endure, my son,

Dismiss not but cling to our ancestor’s views:
Wherever you’ll go, their spirits attend you
To uphold, guide and assist in whatever you do;
If you resent their patterns, their norms,
They will abhor, curse, perhaps even harm you;
So to their old aspirations stay true.

Sleep, sleep my sweet little Melaneo:

May our forefather’s peace attend you,
Their chaste golden wisdom dwells ever in you.
You’ll win a tactful, genteel girl to be your sole mate,
A goody who knows to guard our heritage:
Certain bride price will for you be gladly paid
As long as she bears sure honor, good repute and chaste.
Beware of easy-going dames nowadays
Cordially tipping themselves various partners,
Women seeking careless life and luxuries.

Make sure to take for yourself true and hardworking wife

Willing to lift upon her forehead and back
Dense load of firewood she’ll gather for heating,
Or string bags of garden yields she’d grown and tended,
Carry to the market to earn cash:
Such spouse alerts to lend you hand and rib,
To steer a glad household you jointly raise.

You’re dad’s and mum’s security as ages decline,

Your favor and backing be our sole life soon;
Copy not teens who’ve veered to disregard folks,
Ungrateful for parental troubles they’ve had levied.
Fail not our dreams, our expectations,
For term surely comes, now quickly approaching
When we in turn upon you wholly depend.

So sleep, take a nap, little Melaneo:

Suck mom’s breast, lean secure on mine arms,
O hope of old parents and the fatherland’s.