Mother's Day E-Book

Carmen-Francesca Banciu

• Herausgeber: PalmArtPress
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 244

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Beschreibung

Maria-Maria had broken away from her domineering mother long before her physical death, or at least she thought she had. Neither mother's cruel lashings nor her cutting criticism had prevented her from rejecting the values and ideals that her authoritarian and Communist party-line- towing parents held so dearly. To their crushing dismay, she would not deploy her artistic talents toward embodying the Ceaucescian model of the "new human." Quite the contrary, she was going to revel in being imperfect, and embark on a journey of self-exploration in order to discover what it means to be a self that is not defined by being her mother's daughter or a mother to her own daughter. Putting everything at stake to detach from the primal bond that both oppresses and eludes her, Maria-Maria opens herself up to, and achieves, the unexpected. Banciu explores an uncompromising struggle for selfhood in a singular voice that is vulnerable and authentic, emotional, and unsparingly honest. Beyond a literary study of the complex dynamics that inextricably bind and repel mothers and daughters, Banciu's Mother's Day - Song of a Sad Mother is a courageous reflection on what it means to become and accept one's self with all of the renunciations and rewards that this fraught journey entails. (Elena Mancini)

Leseprobe

Mother’s Day - Song of a Sad Mother - Carmen-Francesca Banciu

Carmen-Francesca Banciu

Mother’s Day

Song of a Sad Mother

Translated from the German by Zoe-Annamaria Hawkinsedited by Catharine J. Nicely

The author’s work on this book was funded by the Stiftung Preußische Seehandlung, Berlin and the Rutgers University Craig-Kade Writer in Residence Program, New Jersey.

Bibliografische Information der Deutschen Nationalbibliothek

Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek verzeichnet diese Publikation in der Deutschen Nationalbibliografie; detaillierte bibliografische Daten sind im Internet über http://www.d-nb.de abrufbar.

Print ISBN: 978-3-941524-47-7

E-Book ISBN: 978-3-941524-46-0

Original deutsche Ausgabe: ISBN 978-3-86789-009-0

© 2007, Rotbuch Verlag, Berlin

First Edition in English, August 2015

All rights reserved

© 2015 Carmen-Francesca Banciu

© PalmArtPress, Pfalzburger Str. 69, 10719 Berlin

www.palmartpress.com

Publisher: Catharine J. Nicely

Cover photo: Marijuana Gheorghiu

Ink brush drawings on cardboard: Meda Gheorghiu-Banciu

Printed in Germany

To my children Marijuana, Cantemir and Meda

Because I’m the first and the last

I am the one, who is venerated and disdained,

I am the whore and the saint,

I am the wife and the virgin.

I am the mother and the daughter,

I am the barren one and my sons are numerous.

I am the bride and the groom,

The one who created my husband.

I am the mother of my father and the sister of my husband. Who is my progeny.

I am the silence, which is incomprehensible…

I am the utterance of my name.

I am the judgment and the acquittal…

Honor me!

Nag-Hammadi – Writings (2nd/3rd Century)

I am everything that has been, was and will be,no mortal has lifted my veil,the fruit that I have birthed is the sun.

Inscription of an Isis-Column

Flowers for Mother

I brought flowers. But Mother wasn’t used to flowers. I am not dead yet, she said. I didn’t know what to do with them. The fleshy roses suddenly seemed obscene. She said: Throw them away if you can’t think of anything better to do with them.

Nothing came to me. It was as if I was paralyzed.

You need to come, Father said on the phone. It was important.

He didn’t say whether it was important for him.

Or for whom. And why.

I should come immediately!

And I took the first flight.

Did she want to see me?

And did I want to see her?

An odor of burnt dolls mixed with the fragrance of chrysanthemum floated in the air.

But chrysanthemum was only in my head.

And that with the dolls was a long time ago.

I brought Mother roses.

Mother lay in bed. She said that I should pray for her.

Mother said: Pray as if it were the same as washing hands. I had only been taught to wash hands.

I can’t pray. Mother never told me about praying. So that I would never depend on anyone. You can only depend on yourself, she said. And I memorized this lesson very well. I memorized this lesson and at the same time forgot it instantly.

Can you imagine? I memorized this lesson forever and forgot it at the same time.

Do you know how it is, to know something and not know? When one is able to do something and is not able? Then one senses that one exists. One is. And one is not. And longs for one’s own being.

You will think I’m crazy. I am not crazy. I am and am not. But is it different with you?

I am not talking to you. I’m talking to me. With the part of me that knows. And is able. And with the part of me that does not know. And is unable. I am in the process of learning how to bring these parts together. Reconcile. Unite them.

And what should come from all this? Not half nor whole. No. A whole being. A balanced being.

And what is balance? Do you know what balance is?