Election naija style

ìjàré

Locked on the steps of the hinterland

On the foot of scattered hills

ìjàré

Yet a Valley, yet a plain, yet on a plateau

Hidden behind dusty roads

Unknown mystery until seen

Not a birthplace of Kola-nut

But owned it.

Scorched masquerades in its wakes

It is the cult of ọlọ́fin

Not since Genesis

had friends' dispute founded a land

ìjàré

An outpost broken in quarrel

Solved by broken Obì

Sing not my Haiku

The Life I chose to live

Not when the rain falls

nor the sun shines

The pick of my breath

The last of my unknown past

To you my destiny

I am here for the picking

To my predisposition

Do I still dig deeper or continue digging?

I belong to the unspoken days

I am counted with the unseen

How liberating!

A caveat; a cornerstone

Sing not my Haiku -I have a longer span

I chose my words -They are my binds

My thoughts - Unwritten

History are what I did untouched

Not what is written of me

or will never be.

Tle last Sting of the uncounted

Sounding Cymbal
in the tiptoes of flowing lights
Crashing thunders
In the shadows of unseen darkness
The day breaks in its full glare
Night has lost its innocence

Nothing but a smile of the forgotten
Crawls through a destitute mind
A distant past, unravelled futures
The Nightmare of the unborn
The lost souls of death

Ethereal Eternal
The count of the immortals
Not spirits, not souls
The un-dead, streams of unliving
The last sting of the uncounted.

Chris Okigbo

If there is one person that inspired me into poetry, his name is Chris Okigbo. I stumbled on a book in my father's little book collection by Sunday Anozie titled Christopher Okigbo: Creative Rhetoric and though barely 12 years then and barely totally understand the full meaning of some of his poems, I was hooked to his works. Chris Okigbo was killed in action during a major push by Nigerian troops against Nsukka during the Nigerian Civil war.

I have reproduced some of his works that I loved below.


The Passage - Christopher Okigbo

BEFORE YOU, my mother Idoto,
Naked I stand;
Before your weary presence,
A prodigal
Leaning on an oilbean,
Lost in your legend
Under your power wait I
On barefoot,
Watchman for the watchword
At heavensgate;
Out of the depth my cry:
Give ear and hearken…
DARK WATERS of the beginning.
Ray, violet,and short, piercing the gloom,
Foreshadow the fire that is dreamed of.
Me to the orangery
Solitude invites,
A wagtail, to tell
The tangled-wood-tale;
A sunbird, to mourn
A mother on spray.
Rain and sun in single combat;
On one leg standing,
In silence at the passage
The young bird at the passage
SILENCE FACES at crossroads:
Festivity in black…
Column of ants,
Behind the bell tower,
Into the hot garden
Where all roads meet:
Festivity in black…
O Anan at the knob of the panel oblong,
Hear us at crossroads at the great hinges
Where the players of loft organ
Rehearse old lovely fragment, alone-
Strains of pressed orange leaves on pages
Bleach of the light of years held in leather:
For we are listening in cornfields
Among the windplayers,
Listening to the wind leaning over
Its loveliest fragment…..



Excerpt of his "Elegy for Alto"

THE GLIMPSE OF A DREAM
lies smouldering in a cave,
together with the mortally wounded birds.
Earth, unbind me;
let me be the prodigal;
let this bethe ram’s ultimate prayer to the tether…

AN OLD STAR departs,
leaves us on the shore
Gazing heavenward for a new star approaching;
The new star appears, foreshadows its going
Before a going and coming that goes on forever…

“In Pursuit of Happiness”

I have always wondered where this phrase – ‘..in pursuit of happiness – come from. I understand a lot of people would say it is from United State Declaration of independence. The expression is credited to Dr. Samuel Johnson in his 1759 novel Rasselas (wikipedia). I have heard it all over this country being used casually and even Hollywood caught the bug with a Will Smith movie, In pursuit of Happyness – nice movie I must say.

The question is what do people mean when they talk of “happiness” or its pursuit? Can you pursue happiness? Is “happiness” a destination or a state on itself? How lasting is “happiness” even when it is has been successfully “pursued”?

I did a little bit of research or lemme call it browsing, on this and I realized that the first public use of this phrase has to do with economic choice of pursuit than ephemeral search for emotional fulfillment. Maybe that tells us more about the use of the expression these days.

I can extrapolate based on the definition and usage of the word that our “pursuit of happiness” has more to do with our fulfillment and satisfaction based on our “acquisition” – Might be love, property etc. That will take me to my next question – Is happiness worth pursuing? I see it from the point that happiness is a means to an end and not an end of a process. Is it worth pursuing? I don’t think so. Why would you pursue a transient state when it is a flow and not the destination? Don’t get me wrong, I am not sadistic or live hating the world, I just think there are other things worth pursuing that could bring happiness as a by-product while giving you more complete fulfillment.

I am not trying to be religious here but I have known from time memorial that the only thing that is what pursuing – Righteousness. Happiness no matter how long it takes is just too risky to be pursued – it is not substantial as a whole point of pursuit – as a by-product, yes, but not the main course. The cost of pursuing it as the lead head and the gain accruing from it just doesn’t worth the effort. Maybe I am wrong…….!

Born in Africa

I was born in Africa, the name they gave my land I was called.
To till the lands my fathers gave me
Not to toil in the baking sun that they so much feared
I am the produce of the land - born in the loin of a warrior
I am the son, his name was Elemeso

Several moons I left my land
Tears, fear ceaselessly flow
Dreams, desires aptly drive
A new world, across several rivers
A place I knew from afar - a land I was called an alien.

What now happens to my generations?
Will they be called by the name they gave my land?
Or the name of the foreign land - Their new land?
Speak in the tongues of my fathers or poetry of this new world?


Will my daughter hums to deep knowledge of Ijala?
Or to the staccato of hip-hop?
Will she ever bath in the cascading torrential downpour?
Or speak in the tone of Ewi?
I wish I know, I wish I can say.