In haar honderdste nummer activeert rekto:verso een archief van twintig jaar kunstkritiek. Tsitsi Jaji reageert op de bijdrage 'Fever Dreams' van Hannah De Meyer en Dries Segers uit Met plezier, nr. 89 uit 2020. Hun koortsdromen inspireren Jaji tot een gedicht over een op hol geslagen wereld.

When we meet, we break doubt’s back.
We wrap fingers around fingers,
nestle palm against palm.
Our open hands catch this embrace.
Nothing can capture laughter:
it swings and snaps—such brazen
love—in the place where we were born.
When I watch you walk, I know
where you are from, this
is our silent song. Waking
smells right as rain. You know/
the good things in life.

The only resurrection earth promised us
is dry/brush flowering between rock
and hard place. We will not rise
until soil hardens on our hearts,
and the finger millet’s music
seeps into our dreams.

Look how wages elude us,
yet the miners’ dust is gilding all.
Even rust floats in our air.
We hike up our skirt
and keep skipping/ lunch.
The returned ones say our rural home
has hitched a ride to town/
to visit with our hunger.
Greens here, bananas there,
tomatoes under the shorted streetlights.
Do not worry—we don’t/
remember the red taste of meat.

When I greet you, I see the zebra
in you, and we share a father.

You recognize my dazzled stripes,
and stop to carry my bag.

Look at her horned pride.
Marvel at his monkeycraft.

Steer clear of their swampy jaws.
Watch her dive as an eagle fishes.

Hail the warthog’s tusks
in his own Eastern dialect.

This is how we cup the air
in the ark of our palms.

This is how we hold the only
gold as good as salt.

Hannah De Meyer (tekst) & Dries Segers (foto’s), ‘Fever Dreams. Pleasures of Being More Than One’, nr. 89, 2020, p. 84.

Bekijk deze recto en verso, en andere archiefstukken en reacties uit het honderdste nummer ook hier.