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Places left behind

I’m not sure why, but Suriname has been on my mind lately. Maybe the prospect of a new adventure has reminded me of my last one. It’s strange to think that I haven’t lived in Suriname, in Tutu Buka, at the back of the futbol field, for four years now. My Saramakan is getting rusty, and I never call the village because I’m embarrassed.

But every once in a while I miss it so bad it hurts.

On my last night in Tutu, I sat down with Simo and recorded him with my little voice recorder, as we sat under the full moon, under the calabash tree. You can hear the buzz of the jungle behind him.

 

You’re my brother,
I’m your brother too,
Hold me in your hand.
Together, we’ll work until God comes again.

Nothing can happen to us
When we walk together.
Nothing can happen to us
When we live side by side.

Where love is, I promise you, it will hold you over.
Where love is, I promise you, it will get you through.
Where love is, I promise you, it will take you there.

You’re my brother,
I’m your brother too.
Hold me in your hand
Until God comes again.

Nothing will happen to us.
Nothing will happen to us.

My sister,
Where love is, I promise you, it will get you through.

And never, never, never
Must we hate each other.
And never, never, never
Must we hate each other.

We must, we must, we must
Love each other.
Alright.

Of the laws God gives us,
Love is the boss of them all.
Of the laws God gives us,
Love is greater than them all.

Love must be.

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