Learn Italian in Song: Tu Vuo’ Fa’ o’ Talebano

“Gino the Chicken” was a phenomenon in Italy a few years ago. Today a reader comment on my translation of Tu Vuo’ Fa’ L’Americano directed me to YouTube, where I ran across Gino’s version of the song, directed at Osama bin Laden:

You Want to Be a Taliban

Tienni la barba longa chiu’ d’un metro, You wear your beard longer than a meter 
nu turbantiello e ‘na casacca usata, a little turban and a used cassock 
passi spiritato su Al Jazeera you appear possessed on Al Jazeera 
comme ‘nu ‘uappo pe’ te fa’ guarda’: like a Mafioso to get yourself looked ad 
    
Tu vuo’ fa ‘o talebano, talebano, talebano, You want to be a Taliban 
siente a me, chi t’o fa fa’? Listen to me, who forces you to? 
Hai i precetti del Corano, You have the precepts of the Koran 
ma poi schianti l’aeroplano, But then you crash airplanes 
tutto il mondo vuo’ disfa’. You want to undo the whole world 
    
Tu skif’ ‘o rock’n roll, You find rock ‘n’ roll disgusting 
tu skif’ ‘o baseball, You find baseball disgusting 
ma i sordi p’a jihad But the money for jihad 
chi te li da’ ? Who gives it to you? 
U petrolio di papa’ ? Daddy’s oil? 
Tu vuo’ fa ‘o talebano, talebano, talebano, You want to be a Taliban 
ma si’ nato in Arabia: but you were born in Arabia 
Sient’ a me, non ce sta nient ‘a fa’, Listen to me, there’s nothing to be done 
capisc Osama’ , tu vuo’ fa’ ‘o taleba’, Understand, Osama, you want to be a Taleban 
Bin Laden ‘o taleba’. Bin Laden the Taliban. 
    
Ai maomettani parli comme a un prete, To the Muslims you talk like a priest 
ca si tu si’ mullah i’ so’ cinese, But if you’re a mullah, I’m Chinese 
e lieggi ‘nata vota ‘stu Curano, Go read the Koran for once 
lasciaci ‘n pace e vattene co’ Omar! Leave us alone or go away with Omar 
    
Tu vuo’ fa ‘o talebano, talebano, talebano, You want to be a Taliban 
attent’ a te, chi t’o fa fa’? Look out, who makes you do it? 
Spacci oppio co’ l’afgano You push opium with the Afghans 
dal confine pakistano, from the Pakistan border 
ce lo porti fino a qua. you bring it to us all the way here 
    
Tu skif’ ‘o rock’n roll, You find rock ‘n’ roll disgusting 
tu skif’ ‘o baseball, You find baseball disgusting 
ma i sordi p’a jihad But the money for jihad 
chi te li da’ ? Who gives it to you? 
L’eroina afganista’? Afghan heroin? 
Tu vuo’ fa ‘o talebano, talebano, talebano, You want to be a Taliban 
ma si’ nato in Arabia: but you were born in Arabia 
Sient’ a me, non ce sta nient ‘a fa’, Listen to me, there’s nothing to be done 
Capisc Osamà, tu vuo’ fa’ ‘o taleba’, Understand, Osama, you want to be a Taleban 
Bin Laden ‘o taleba’. Bin Laden the Taliban. 
Collin Pauell, Giorg’ Bush… Colin Powell, George Bush… 

Give!

I’m a longtime reader of the newsletters/blog of fellow Woodstock alum Jim Taylor – who has been a professional writer for far longer than I have, and is a very wise man. This week’s “Sharp Edges” column is about the disastrous floods in Pakistan, wondering Why the reluctance to help? He shares some likely correct ideas about why “international aid has been disastrously slow”, ending with a cogent thought about why this is a huge mistake. I agree with everything he says, and recommend that you read it now.

But I think there’s more to this story, and wrote Jim as follows:

One thing that has surprised me since I moved from Italy back to the US is the constant pleas to give-give-give. Everyone has their “pet” cause – often quite literally about pets – and is constantly asking for “support”. Fundraising is a business in which people are paid to stalk city streets with clipboards, waylaying passersby with earnest questions. Every corporation and celebrity hastens to associate their name with some cause, preferably a non-controversial one that won’t tarnish that name with any possible customer or fan.

The result, for me at least, is a constant low-level feeling of guilt that I’m never doing enough to save the world. No matter that I gave my childhood for my father to “develop” Vietnam, Thailand, and Bangladesh. Never mind that I have given considerable time, travel costs, and professional expertise to Woodstock and SAGE. I’m a bad person if I don’t also save dolphins, pit bulls, starving children, forests, etc.

The most bizarre request I’ve seen was in a sandwich shop in Colorado: taped to the counter at the cash registers was a flyer made up and printed by an employee, concerning the daughter of his neighbor. The child was killed by a car while playing outside her home “just minutes after this picture was taken!” and we were all now invited to help the family defray funeral costs.

It’s as if we are all expected to participate, emotionally and financially, in every tragedy in the world. I don’t think the human psyche is designed to deal with that much grief, even vicariously.

So when one more cause comes along, no matter how worthy, I just shut down. It feels like yet another imposition on my emotional energy. I don’t know whether that makes me a bad person, or simply a burnt-out charity case.

Learn India’s National Anthem

Woodstock School celebrates Indian Independence Day (August 15th) in a big way, starting with a flag raising and rousing choruses of the national anthem, Jana Gana Mana. I happened to attend school assembly the day a preparatory lesson was given for students new to India. It was up to me to uphold the honor of the alumni by remembering the words without any help! But I’ve printed them here for those who don’t.

Jana gana mana

Adhinayaka jaya he

Bharata bhagya vidhata

Punjab, Sindhu, Gujarata, Maratha

Dravid, Utkala, Banga

Vindhya, Himachala, Jamuna, Ganga

Ucchala, Jhaladhi, Taranga

Tava shubha name jage

Tava subha ashisha mange

Gahe tava jaya gata

Jana gana mangala dayaka jaya he

Bharata bhagya vidhata

Jaya he! Jaya he! Jaya he!

Jaya, jaya, jaya, Jaya he!

by Rabindranath Tagore

Deirdré Straughan on Italy, India, the Internet, the world, and now Australia