BALAM RODRIGO

Kaan-saaf-wallah / Ear Cleaner

Translated from the Spanish by Anna Deeny Morales

Kaan-saaf-wallah / Ear Cleaner
Calcutta, India

Perhaps for now you don’t listen to me:
I work near the mosque,
situating myself near the entrance steps,
where I resolve my client’s deafness
or clean their ears of mundane filth.
It’s easy to discern me:
a purple cap crowns my head
and I hang a white cotton shawl
over my left shoulder:
the lineage of my trade comes from my heart.

Kanmailí, I’m a suni Muslim
who cleans dirt from ears
with secret methods,
but with a lucidity of hands and a good price.

My cardinal instruments, the auzaar, are two:
the chimti, acicular rod
with which I auscultate the ear’s seashell,
on its most narrow extremity I roll cotton fibers
to clean and clear away blockages, earwax deposits;
with the salaai, fine metallic bar
I place drops of mustard and garlic oil
that refresh, cure, and prevent infections.

Even though the Hindus purify the body
placing it in the river
and the Muslims cleanse the face during the ablutions,
the canal of their ears remains impure. 

And if you do not understand me, it is because you no longer hear:
if you let me help you, you will listen with clarity
to the quintuplet prayer call of the al-Muecín
even though far from the minarets of the mosque
or notice with precision the sacred syllable OM,
even the one recited
by the eldest of brahmans.

It is enough to say that my ancestors cleansed the royal ears
of all of the Moghul emperors who ruled,
for centuries, the world.

Such kanmailíes made it possible to hear the voice of what is sacred
for the sainted men
and removed earwax of ignorance
from the most wise.

And you, who is also wise, should know that I descend
from the useful cast of the ear cleaners of the royalty
and my lineage is as ancient as my trade.

I am Muslim, but all of my medicine and tools
are ayurvedic.

Now that you listen to me,
You will know that after my services you will hear better.

Come close, do not fret, I will begin to clean your left earlobe:
soon you will notice that your heart beats louder
and your wife and the deities will consider you.

Once I finish cleaning them, I will place a few 
drops of mustard oil in your ears;
all words and sounds will sound be refreshed,
full of music:
you will hear the sky’s voice.

Many millennia ago, in the blue earlobe of the sky, only the sun hung.
With no night, the sky was deaf from so much light.
Men and animals did not listen to the silence.
All spoke at the same time
and no one slept because of the endless din of the light.
(Death, deaf to life, did not exist either).
Light, who also wanted to sleep,
wept oceans for its misfortune:
ff its tears the mustard oil was born.
The world collapsed in the luminous chaos
and in the sky’s starless lobes 
the lovely moon’s earing was absent.
No one could remove the sun from the sky,
all feared the burn of its fury.

God created like this the first kanmailí who existed in the world.

The grandfather kaan-saaf-wallah asked God for his sword
and split its edge in two very long halves:
he called chimti the left
and salaai the right. 
With the left hand the grandfather kanmailí took the chimti
and with him began to remove the earwax from the sun
from the sky’s deaf and blue ear.
Since the blockage of light was so hard
the grandfather had to
take the salaai with the right hand
to yank it from the cleft;
but it was so long
that he rolled the clouds at its tip
and with his white cotton he took the mustard oil
to soften the sky’s sun
and remove the eternal blockage of day.
Only like this was it possible to yank the solar earwax
from the sky’s blue ear,
and then the night came.

People, animals, light and the grandfather kanmailí 
heard night arrive with clarity,
they listened to its slow steps of silence
and could finally sleep,
and could also dream.
Then God called death
so he could speak to the ear of men
and they not forget to be joyful all the days of their lives
upon seeing the night and its moon arrive,
upon seeing the sun and its light.
For his great courage, the grandfather kanmailí 
received the treasure of eternity,
and now removes from the sky’s blue ear
the sun’s yellow earwax so that the night arrive,
and then cleanses the round and white blockage of the moon
of the sky’s ear so the day arrive.
And so that humans forever listen
to the voice of love and wisdom,
God sent the children of the grandfather kanmailí to Earth
so that from men they remove 
the earwax from their ears with the chimti,
the filth of the earlobes with the salaai
and use the cloud’s cotton
and mustard oil as his medicine.

Beneath the sky’s blue ear,
all of the cleansers of ears of the world
travel through streets wearing a red cap.

Come close and listen to them:
they clean the earlobes and ears
of women and men,
and cure the heart’s deafness.

Balam Rodrigo is a former footballer, biologist, and writer. An author of over thirty books of poetry, his lyrics give life to a diversity of topics, ranging from football to the biological sciences, to humankind’s spiritual relationship with God. Recent works: Marabunta (Invisible Books, 2017; Praxis, 2018; Yaugurú, 2018; Los Perros Románticos, 2019), Central American Book of the Dead (FCE, 2018), Antiicaro (La Chifurnia, 2019), Cantar del ángel con remos en la espalda (Puertabierta Editores, 2019) and Icarias (Icaro Ediciones, 2020). His work has earned several recognitions, to include: Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz International Literature Contest 2012, Jaime Sabines International Poetry Prize 2014, José Emilio Pacheco National Poetry Prize 2016, Amado Nervo National Poetry Prize 2017 and Aguascalientes Poetry Fine Arts Award 2018. Member of the National System of Art Creators of Mexico from 2014-2016 and 2018-2020.

Anna Deeny Morales works in poetry and music as a literary critic, translator, and librettist. Deeny Morales is a National Endowment for the Arts Fellow for her translation of Tala by Nobel Laureate, Gabriela Mistral. Her translations of Raúl Zurita’s poetry include Sky Below, Selected Works (Northwestern University Press, 2016), of which she is also the editor; Dreams for Kurosawa (arrow as aarow press, 2011); and Purgatory (University of California Press, 2009). She has taught at Harvard University as well as Dartmouth College, and currently teaches in the Center for Latin American Studies at Georgetown University. Her book, Other Solitudes: Essays on Consciousness and Poetry, is forthcoming.