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Jaula para flores
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Jaula para flores

28.10.19Daniel Galera

Eu e minha esposa passamos a pé diariamente por esta esquina de Porto Alegre, ocupada por lanchonetes populares sempre cheias. As calçadas são muito disputadas ali. Humanos, cães, carrinhos de bebê, doentes que vêm de cidades distantes para serem atendidos no Hospital de Clínicas. Às vezes apareciam cartazes escritos à mão, pedindo para que os donos de cachorros não os deixassem fazer necessidades nos canteiros de flores. E então, algumas semanas atrás, a calçada foi reformada e instalaram essas grades de ferro grotescas. No início, pensamos que podia ser uma instalação de arte criticando o modo de vida enclausurado e os impulsos fascistas que resultam da violência urbana no Brasil. Mas logo ficou claro que não havia sarcasmo ou elaboração estética nas grades. Elas foram instaladas para proteger as flores. Nos queixamos com a Prefeitura, mas obviamente nada será feito. As grades continuarão ali, como se proteger as flores do eventual xixi de um dachshund justificasse essa jaula de barras de ferro negras, estreitas e pontudas, tão obscenamente excessivas. As grades parecem um monumento à barbárie que se alastra em nosso país, com a população aplaudindo um governo que estimula o armamento e as execuções de suspeitos, enquanto quem tem dinheiro tenta se proteger em condomínios murados. As grades parecem sintoma de uma visão antropocêntrica das criaturas não humanas, uma visão que está ligada à destruição ecológica que estamos causando e que acabará por nos matar. Quem as instalou não enxerga a ironia, tampouco enxerga as flores propriamente ditas, que já mal aparecem entre as frestas. As grades parecem, sobretudo, um túmulo. E sobre isso digo apenas que preferia não vê-las todo dia quando passo por ali, que gostaria que sumissem. A mentalidade que as produziu pode nos levar a lugares muito sombrios.

Käfigbeet

28.10.19Daniel Galera

Meine Frau und ich laufen jeden Tag an dieser Ecke in Porto Alegre vorbei, an der einige gut besuchte Imbisslokale angesiedelt sind. Der Platz auf dem Gehweg ist dort hart umkämpft. Menschen, Hunde, Kinderwagen, Kranke, die aus weit entfernten Städten zur Behandlung im Hospital de Clínicas hier her kommen. Des öfteren sieht man handgeschriebene Schilder, auf denen die Hundebesitzer angehalten werden, zu verhindern, dass ihre Lieblinge ihr Geschäft im Blumenbeet verrichten. Nun wurde vor ein paar Wochen der Gehweg saniert und dabei sind diese grotesken Gitter errichtet worden. Anfangs dachten wir, es könnte sich um eine Kunst-Installation handeln, die die Abschottung Brasiliens und seine faschistische Stoßrichtung, der die Gewalt in den Städten zum Vorwand dient, kritisiert. Doch dann dämmerte uns, dass weder Sarkasmus noch ästhetische Ausführungen der Grund für diese Gitter waren. Zum Schutz der Blumen waren sie errichtet worden. Wir beschwerten uns bei der Stadtverwaltung, aber es wird natürlich nichts passieren. Die Gitter werden bleiben, ganz als sei das etwaige Wasserlassen eines Dackels Rechtfertigung genug für einen solchen Käfig aus engstehenden, schwarzen, spitzen, in ihrer Übertriebenheit geradezu obszönen Eisenstäben. Die Gitterstäbe muten an wie ein Denkmal für die Barbarei, die in unserem Land um sich greift, in dem die Bevölkerung einer Regierung Beifall klatscht, die Waffenbesitz propagiert und die Hinrichtung verdächtiger Personen, während die, die das nötige Geld haben, versuchen, sich in mauerbewehrten Wohngebieten zu verschanzen. Die Gitterstäbe sind Sinnbild für eine anthropozentrische Sicht auf nichtmenschliche Wesen, für eine Weltanschauung, zu der die von uns selbst verursachte Zerstörung der Umwelt gehört, die uns irgendwann noch das Leben kosten wird. Wer die Gitter angebracht hat, erkennt nicht die Ironie dabei. Auch nicht den eigentlichen Gegenstand – nämlich die Blumen –, die kaum zwischen den Stäben auszumachen sind. Die Eisengitter haben aber vor allem etwas von einem Grabmal. Und ich persönlich zöge es vor, sie nicht jeden Tag sehen zu müssen, wenn ich dort vorbeikomme, ich fände es schön, wenn sie verschwänden. Die Geisteshaltung, der sie entstammen, kann uns an die finstersten Orte führen.

Übersetzung: Lea Hübner

A cage for flowers

28.10.19Daniel Galera

My wife and I walk by this corner of Porto Alegre every day. There are several cheap diners, always crowded. The sidewalks are very busy: humans, dogs, baby strollers, sick patients that come from distant towns to the large hospital here. Sometimes we would see handwritten signs asking dog owners not to let their pets relieve themselves on the flower beds. A few weeks ago, the sidewalk was fixed, and some grotesque iron bars appeared. At first we thought it might be an art installation criticizing the enclosed living and the fascist impulses that are the result of urban violence in Brazil. But it soon became clear that there was neither sarcasm nor aesthetic elaboration in those iron bars. They were put there to protect the flowers. We complained to the city administration, but obviously nothing will come of that. The bars will remain there, as if protecting flowers from eventually being wet by a dachshund could justify such obscene and excessive black iron bars. Those bars are a monument to the barbarity spreading through our country, where the population applauds as the government condones public executions of suspects and the rise in sales of guns, while the more affluent citizens try to protect themselves inside gated communities. Those bars are a symptom of an anthropocentric view of non-human creatures, a view deeply connected to the environmental destruction we are causing – which will eventually kill us. Whoever installed those bars cannot see the irony, much less the flowers themselves, which timidly peep through. Those bars are a grave. I’d rather not see them every day when I walk by; I would like them to be gone. The mind that produced those bars can take us to frighteningly dark places.

Translation: Raquel Ebert

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Daniel Galera

Daniel Galera was born in 1979. He has published short stories, a graphic novel and three novels, as well as translations of Anglo-American literature (including Zadie Smith and David Foster Wallace) into Portuguese. In 2013, he was awarded with the São Paulo Prize for Literature in the category Best Book of the Year with “Barba ensopada de sangue” (published by Hamish Hamilton, UK, 2015 with the title “Blood-Drenched Beard” – translation: Alison Entrekin). Daniel Galera spent May 2018 as a guest of the Literary Colloquium Berlin with the kind support of the German Foreign Office.

Daniel Galera, 1979 geboren, hat Erzählungen, eine Graphic Novel und drei Romane publiziert sowie Übersetzungen angloamerikanischer Literatur (u. a. Zadie Smith und David Foster Wallace) ins Portugiesische. In Nicolai von Schweder-Schreiners deutscher Übersetzung erschienen seine Romane »Flut« (2013) und »So enden wir« (2018) im Suhrkamp Verlag. Mit freundlicher Unterstützung des Auswärtigen Amts verbrachte er den Mai 2018 als Hausgast im Literarischen Colloquium Berlin.

Daniel Galera was born in 1979. He has published short stories, a graphic novel and three novels, as well as translations of Anglo-American literature (including Zadie Smith and David Foster Wallace) into Portuguese. In 2013, he was awarded with the São Paulo Prize for Literature in the category Best Book of the Year with “Barba ensopada de sangue” (published by Hamish Hamilton, UK, 2015 with the title “Blood-Drenched Beard” – translation: Alison Entrekin). Daniel Galera spent May 2018 as a guest of the Literary Colloquium Berlin with the kind support of the German Foreign Office.

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