Odes on Tender Specie(s) Vol IV: Living Currency · Track 30 · middle
The Salt Slab Caravan
Vol IV-take on the Saharan salt economy. The men who hauled salt slabs across the desert. Some died. Some made it. The labor behind the currency. Nalyd's mid-tempo lament-celebration.
Lyrics
[Intro] [Verse 1] Sun ain't up in Taoudenni Just the white glare off the ground The houses here are made of the mine They weep when the rain comes down A man named nothing carves a perfect square A block of salt called a Barra Forty kilos of his whole year Stacked on the hump of a dromedary prayer [Chorus] This ain't gold, it's not a silver coin This is a man's whole thirst, a blistered join It's the sun baked hard, the sweat turned to stone The currency of muscle, the price of bone And the caravan moves, a ghost on the sand Hauling the weight of this godforsaken land [Verse 2] We point the camels south to Timbuktu A word you say like a fresh-drawn well I got a river stone, they call it Tashun Rub it on my lips to break the dry spell Just a little trick to fool the tongue While the sun hammers down its anvil song The blue men watch the stars, they know the way But the desert decides who sees the next day [Chorus] This ain't gold, it's not a silver coin This is a man's whole thirst, a blistered join It's the sun baked hard, the sweat turned to stone The currency of muscle, the price of bone And the caravan moves, a ghost on the sand Hauling the weight of this godforsaken land [Bridge] Leo Africanus, he wrote it all down Called this place odious, this salt-block town But he never wrote the names of the ones who fell Their bodies are the mile-markers on this road to hell Their silence is the tax on every slab that's sold A story the shifting dunes have never told [Outro] The last slab's traded in a Timbuktu square So clean and white in the humid air The merchant feels the weight in his hand Not the weight of the ghosts who crossed the sand