Saturday, December 31, 2011

Oh, Dambala

Some days, hopelessly, I sit at this computer trying to do a little bit to help animals. The hardest part is remaining productive in the midst of the huge atrocities I encounter on a daily, no a momentary basis.

How can anyone hurt animals? In any way? This commentary is not just about the animal abusers, but for those people who use innocent animals in any way other than as they were placed on this earth.

Each day, I see scared, hurt animals cowering in the corners of filthy shelters. Most end up being euthanized. There simply are not enough rescue groups saving animals to provide for all of these mistreated creatures.

When I listen to Nina Simone sing Dambala, I feel a connection. This song was written as a cry about the horrors of slavery, but I hear the moaning of all who're mistreated in its verse.

I would imagine the musician Exuma who wrote this intense piece carried the same fierce anger I feel. I am amazed at the comfort I get from hearing these words. When listening to Nina Simone sing Dambala, another layer projects itself and the power of that is both terrifying and empowering.

When I hear these words, I feel strength to carry on with my own meager work. I can go on, one small step at a time to try and help these suffering ones.

Call this a voodoo curse, a hex, a poem, a lament, a dirge for all those who mistreat animals.
Whether it be someone who takes his senior pet to a high kill facility to be put to sleep by a stranger, a dog fighter who makes money in the most sinful manner,
any rescue group who misappropriates much needed donations for self gain while animals die,
to you, canned hunters who pilfer lives that wander on your ugly Texas ranches....
this song is dedicated to you.

These words might not be heard by you today, but someday there will be a reckoning as...

"You slavers will know what itsLike to be a slaveSlave to your mindSlave to your raceYou won't go to heavenYou won't go to hellYou remain in your gravesWith the stench and the smell"

Oh dambala come dambala 
Oh dambala come dambala 
Think of the wings of a three toed frog 
Eat weeds from the deepest part of sea 

Oh dambala come dambala 
Oh dambala come dambala

On the seventh day God will be there 
On the seventh night satan will be there 
On the seventh day God will be there
On the seventh night satan will be there

You slavers will know 
What it's like to be a slave 
Slave to your heartSlave to your soul 

Oh dambala come dambala 
Oh dambala come dambala

You slavers will know what its 
Like to be a slave
Slave to your mind 
Slave to your race 

You won't go to heaven 
You won't go to hell
You remain in your graves 
With the stench and the smell 

Oh dambala come dambala 
Oh dambala come dambala

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