For my semester exam today

I would like to read you a small spoken word piece I wrote

I would like to do it in English, as for me and for most people here, it is similarly a foreign language, a second or third tongue

But this spoken word piece 

Needs to be read out

In a very special place

So I would like to ask one of you

To hold this incense

That we will light together

And direct us to the place, the door, where KHB’s Human Remains are currently being stored

I imagine they must have had different places of residency in the last over ten years they have been under KHB’s property

The pieces of bones and skeletons of at least ten different humans

Buried only are their names

*

Then we may begin

*

To my dear Friends,

You have called out for so long yet

There are no words left to say

To walls who refuse to listen

In my last semester exam

I had presented a 22-page love letter to the racist colonial institution that calls itself an art school

Today’s love letter

Is to friends who have died an unjust death,

But more than that

To the ones not allowed, even in death, to speak for themselves and to speak their own name

There are no words left to describe this grief

It is not that history was not recorded and written down

It is not that we have not translated and explained ourselves

In their mother tongues

It is not that history is repeating itself once again

But rather

That the violences in history had always continued unbroken,

The only difference now being

I don’t believe them

When they would say they didn’t know

To my dear Friend,

a stone heart for the hearts under rubble and lost limbs longing

And

Breath on a string 

To ask if all life is precious?

Or are some lives cheaper than others?

Some deserving of a name

And some only of numbers

*

My dear Friend,

I remember where we are

and what this heavy soil remembers

And I will always remember

Those who chose to draw Borders to their Hearts

It has been an honour to witness

The naked hypocrisy

That Never Again is Now has never meant

Never Again For All

*

My dear Friend,

there is no need to waste breath for revenge

The soil will do the remembering

The past crashes into the present and for the ones who refuse to take a look and refuse to lift a finger, may what their ancestors have done,

Hidden behind closed doors and foggy eyeballs and conscious forgetfulness 

of their ancestors against non-Aryans

That repeats itself in the present, 

look them in the eye for everytime they go to sleep and everytime they wake up

It is not imported. It has simply stayed. 

But it’s not my responsibility to translate german complicity and german news in german to germans

*

To my dear friends who feel the weight of my words

Have courage

Take everything you can

Take it, it’s yours

Take back

And always remember:

Your soul is free, free, free