Ama: Kihú:wa (Land Back!)

The poem “Ama: Kihú:wa” (“Landback”) is written in part in Yesą:sahį, the language of the Eastern Siouan peoples of North Carolina, Virginia, and South Carolina. The piece was inspired by the documentary "Yintah" and the ongoing environmental struggles faced by Indigenous communities worldwide. I also share a Kalipona version titled “Akuyukêtabai Wakaira” (“Give Back the Land to our Islands”).

As an Eastern Woodland Afro-Native with also African and Indigenous Caribbean ancestry, honoring my heritage is at the heart of this work. I'm deeply grateful to Starétabánani, a Yamaye Taíno-Arawak who translated the poem into Kalipona and guided me with pronunciation. Since the age of 12, she has been reclaiming her ancestral language while also learning Garifuna and Lokono, part of her lifelong commitment to revitalizing Indigenous Caribbean languages and cultures.

I invite Indigenous peoples to translate this poem into their own languages and express it through their own art forms.

Ama: Kihú:wa

It doesn’t matter how many years, months, or days have passed, ama: mįgí:tǫwi

It doesn’t matter how many new colonized names are created, ama: Yesą yįgí:tǫbui

It doesn’t matter how many new faces or new nations are created to erase, ama: kihkǫspé:

It doesn’t matter how many oni relatives branches are cut or new atʰí: built over our ancestor’s remains, the yu:xté:ki still keeps the score.

It doesn’t matter that in their mina:gi mą:hkaną́hka write we are no longer here, lé: maini:naǫse, ama: Yesą yįgí:tǫbui

We will always be here, we will never forget, nor will the ama:

Colonized-made borders will not separate us.

We will continue to fight for the ama:’s rights until ama: kihù:wa takes place.

ama: kihù:wa from Amanishuq to all of Turtle Island to the Motherland and all of Hena Amai:

Glossary of Terms:

ama: kihú:wa - land back

ama: - land

Yesą- the people

mįgí:tǫwi- “it belongs to me”

Literally, this form marks possession and is used with most nouns to mean “it is mine/it belongs to me.” However, within this poem, it carries a deeper meaning. Rather than implying ownership of the land, it expresses the opposite: I belong to the land. The phrase speaks to relationship and reciprocity, recognizing that humans are held by the land, sustained by it, and inseparable from it.

mą:hkaną́hka- white man

lé: maini:naǫse- we are still here

yįgí:tǫbui- it belongs to you all

kihkǫspé:- he/she/it remembers

atʰí:- house

Amanishuq- Piedmont Plateau in North Carolina and Virginia.

yu:xté:ki - body

mina:gi- book

Hena Amai: - Mother Earth

The Version of the Poem in Kalipona:

Akuyukêtabai Wakaira

itienne warongonê íkira chíkea lan awere sagawa kiallam.

kaira wanikia wúbara lukairi.

itienne iri isherikeili núbi ta.

awere sagawa kiallam loroman kaira wúbara

itenne íchibu isherikeili,

awere awere kiallam

itienne kañubatiwa wetéñon nhoaria nále

atǔka gíbeti bahú isherikeili ionaowaku,

boutípfenichitium lüágo nhókobuliroku

ahánkia awere sagawa kiallam

awere awere kiallam nhákartaniroku

ka nhariánga wúaku ahoéeaatiwa lukairi noúbi ta,

yáha walukairin akia kaira wanikia wubára lukairi

luyáhakéitiwa, sanyanti manbutipfeniawa

manbutipfeniaru monha kuakia

atǔkaanum nhibe isherikeili núbisen àtika

akambaàtiwa tiwekátiwa wibátête.

kaiman wakuraágoa monha túbara.

luakuraágoba túbara akuyukêtabae loaria amanishuqsen láo sún wamonhan akia sún büri wamonhan

English Translation:

Note: This is a creative interpretation of the original Kalipona text. This is not a direct or literal translation, but rather an adaptive rendering intended to convey the deeper meaning, cultural context, and emotional resonance of the original work.

Give Back the Land to Our Islands

How many nights have passed since they stopped caring?

Here, our island people and the island are ours, for us islanders.

How many new names have they forced upon the land? Still, we do not care; the land remembers who it belongs to.

Their names mean nothing.

How many of our relatives have been lost or taken from us while they build fresh homes on top of our ancestors' bones?

Still, their bodies remember.

And so, we do not care. Their books may forget us, but we live on in the roots.

Whatever they say, even if they claim we died, we are still here, the people of the islands, and the islands are ours.

We have always been here. We can't forget. We cannot forget the land.

Though they build new nations from the ashes of colonizers, we know: we are not from different nations, only different countries.

So come, let us fight for our land.

We always fight for the return of our land from Amanishuq to all our lands and our land everywhere