The Sun on this Rubble Dennis Brutus

The sun on this rubble after rain .

Bruised though we must be
some easement we
require
unarguably, though we
argue against desire.

Under jackboots our bones and spirits crunch
forced into sweat- tear - sodden slush
- now glow - lipped by this sudden touch :

- sun - stripped perhaps , our bones may later sing
or spell out their
maglinant nemesis
Sharpevilled to spearpoints for revenging

but now our pride- dumbed mouth are wide with
wordless supplication
- are grateful for the least relief from pain

- like this sun on this debris after rain .

Dennis Brutus

Dennis Vincent Brutus was a South African social activist and prolific poet. He was jailed with Nelson Mandela in the 1960s in the fight against apartheid having their cells next to each other in Roben Island. He was born on 28th November 1924 and died on 26 December 2009.

Begging Aid by David Rubadiri

Whilst our children
Become smaller than guns,
Elders become big
Circus Lions
Away from home.

Whilst the manes age
In the Zoos
That now our homelands
Have become,
Markets of leftovers,
Guns are taller
Than our children.

In the beggarhood
Of a Circus
That now is home,
The whip of the Ringmaster
Cracks with a snap
That eats through
The backs of our being.

Hands stretching
In a prayer
Of submission
In a beggarhood
Of Elders delicately
Performing the tightrope
To amuse the Gate
For Tips
That will bring home
Toys of death.

David Rubadiri

David Rubadiri was born in Liuli, Malawi, in 1930. He attended King’s College, Budo, in Uganda from 1941 to 1950 and thereafter studied at Makerere University, where he graduated with a BA degree in English Literature and History. Rubadiri ranks as one of Africa’s most celebrated and widely anthologised poets to emerge after independence.

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Beware, Soul Brother by Chinua Achebe

We are the men of soul
men of song we measure out
our joys and agonies
in paces of the dance.

Beware, soul brother, beware,
for others there will be
lying in waiting, leaden-footed, tone deaf,
passionate to despoil the devour.

Take care then, mother’s son, take care,
lest you become a dancer disinherited in mid-air
hanging a lame foot in air like the hen
in a strange unfamiliar compound.

Protect this patrimony to which
you must return when the song is finished
and the dancers disperse;

Remember also your children
for they in their time will want a
place for their feet when they come of age
and the dance of the future is born for them.

Chinua Achebe

Albert Chinualumogu Achebe was a Nigerian novelist, poet, professor, and critic. His first novel Things Fall Apart (published in 1958) was considered as the most widely read book in modernAfrican literature. He was born in Ogidi on 6 November 1930 and died in Massachusetts, USA on 21 March 2013.

An African Thunderstorm by David Rubadiri

From the west
Clouds come hurrying with the wind
Turning sharply
Here and there
Like a plague of locusts
Whirling,
Tossing up things on its tail
Like a madman chasing nothing.

Pregnant clouds
Ride stately on its back,
Gathering to perch on hills
Like sinister dark wings;
The wind whistles by
And trees bend to let it pass.

In the village
Screams of delighted children,
Toss and turn
In the din of the whirling wind,
Women,
Babies clinging on their backs
Dart about
In and out
Madly;
The wind whistles by
Whilst trees bend to let it pass.

Clothes wave like tattered flags
Flying off
To expose dangling breasts
As jagged blinding flashes
Rumble, tremble and crack
Amidst the smell of fired smoke
And the pelting march of the storm.

David Rubadiri

David Rubadiri was born in Liuli, Malawi, in 1930. He attended King’s College, Budo, in Uganda from 1941 to 1950 and thereafter studied at Makerere University, where he graduated with a BA degree in English Literature and History. Rubadiri ranks as one of Africa’s most celebrated and widely anthologised poets to emerge after independence.

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Wake for Okigbo by Chinua Achebe ( Ifeanyi Menkiti)

For whom are we searching?
For whom are we searching?
For Okigbo we are searching!
Nzomalizo!

Has he gone for firewood, let him return.
Has he gone to fetch water, let him return.
Has he gone to the marketplace, let him return.
For Okigbo we are searching!
Nzomalizo!

For whom are we searching?
For whom are we searching?
For Okigbo we are searching!
Nzomalizo!

Has he gone for firewood, may Ugboko not take him.
Has he gone to the stream, may Iyi not swallow him!
Has he gone to the market, then keep from him you
Tumult of the marketplace!
Has he gone to battle,
Please Ogbonuke step aside for him!
For Okigbo we are searching!
Nzomalizo!

They bring home a dance, who is to dance it for us?
They bring home a war, who will fight it for us?
The one we call repeatedly,
there’s something he alone can do
It is Okigbo we are calling!
Nzomalizo!

Witness the dance, how it arrives
The war, how it has broken out
But the caller of the dance is nowhere to be found
The brave one in battle is nowhere in sight!
Do you not see now that whom we call again
And again, there is something he alone can do?
It is Okigbo we are calling!
Nzomalizo!

The dance ends abruptly
The spirit dancers fold their dance and depart in midday
Rain soaks the stalwart, soaks the two-sided drum!
The flute is broken that elevates the spirit
The music pot shattered that accompanies the leg in its measure
Brave one of my blood!
Brave one of Igbo land!
Brave one in the middle of so much blood!
Owner of riches in the dwelling place of spirit
Okigbo is the one I am calling!
Nzomalizo!

...CHINUA ACHEBE
(Translated from the Igbo by Ifeanyi Menkiti)

In memory of the poet Christopher Okigbo (1932-1967)

Albert Chinualumogu Achebe was a Nigerian novelist, poet, professor, and critic. His first novel Things Fall Apart (published in 1958) was considered as the most widely read book in modern African literature. He was born in Ogidi on 6 November 1930 and died in Massachusetts, USA on 21 March 2013.