音乐剧《河口之处》第四部

第三曲

1960年末，刚果独立后的动荡已蔓延至乡村。二十岁的恩萨拉每天照常翻晒木薯，等待投身远方的青年教师姆巴归来。她并不理解革命，也不知道战争意味着什么，只记得他临走前说过一句话——“我会回来。”

《翻晒木薯》是一首带有非洲乡村劳动歌气质的民谣。翻晒木薯这一日常动作，成为恩萨拉等待、思念与希望的节奏。她一遍遍翻动木薯，也一遍遍重复着那句承诺，直到村庄传来姆巴已死的消息。木薯终会晒干，河流依旧流淌，而等待的人却再也不会回来。

"Turn the Cassava" takes place in late 1960, as the turmoil following Congo's independence reaches even the smallest villages. Nsala, now twenty years old, spends her days turning cassava roots beneath the sun while waiting for Mbemba, the young village teacher who left to join a cause he believed would bring a better future. She does not understand politics or revolution. She remembers only his promise:

"I'll come back."

Written in the style of a traditional folk work song, the repeated act of turning cassava becomes a ritual of waiting, hope, and remembrance. As the days pass, the cassava dries beneath the sun, but Mbemba never returns. When news of his death finally reaches the village, the song reveals that ordinary love and ordinary labor often bear the deepest scars of history.

TURN THE CASSAVA

(Late 1960)

Verse 1

Turn the cassava,
Lay it in the sun.
Turn the cassava,
Day has just begun.

White on the reed mat,
Warm beneath the sky.
Turn the cassava...
Watch the herons fly.

Chorus

Turn the cassava,
Turn it soft and slow.
Turn the cassava,
Watch the white roots glow.

He said he'd come back
Before the rains were gone.

So I turn the cassava,
And sing his little song.

Verse 2

Turn the cassava,
Morning after morn.
One bird leaves the river.
One more day is born.

The children pass my doorway.
They ask me where you've been.
I smile and shake my head.
I turn the roots again.

Chorus

Turn the cassava,
Turn it soft and slow.
Turn the cassava,
Watch the white roots glow.

He said he'd come back
Before the rains were gone.

So I turn the cassava,
And sing his little song.

Bridge

Some speak low of far-off roads.
Some speak low of guns.
I know only river light.
I know only suns.

The cassava cracks in daylight.

Sometimes...

I think

it is your step.

Verse 3

Turn the cassava,
Now the sky grows red.
Smoke climbs from the cook fires.
No word has yet been said.

A woman holds my shoulders.
She cannot meet my eyes.
The evening birds are silent.

The river knows.

Final Chorus

Turn the cassava,
Turn it soft and slow.
Turn the cassava,
Watch the white roots glow.

He said he'd come back
Before the rains were gone.

The cassava has dried.

The river keeps on.

(Softly, almost spoken)

Turn the cassava...

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