YOU ARE LOST Isack Mruma To you dada.⃰ it’s the days that matter, for we are unable to chat in the language we had. When I look at you and see my pay slip in your eyes I feel empty and sapped. Your glance, sister, is to me the measure of the heat of the dough in my pocket. Never are passions cool, to you I am now a tool, and all my wage is now the fare: I ride on your throbbing kisses. It is you I accuse, because your love is lost, and you only touch me with…
Author: Msomi Bora
DOUBLE BEATING By Richard Mabala About the Author Richard Mabala is originally from the United Kingdom and gave up his passport to become an official Tanzanian. He has been an educator, professor at a university, a poet, and a recognized writer of Secondary school English readers (Mabala the Farmer, Hawa the Bus Driver, and others). Richard Mabala DOUBLE BEATING Richard Mabala My neighbours gather round, Listen to my cry, And tell me please, When the hummer pounds the nail And the nail bites Mercilessly Into the wood, Who is the wood to blame? You saw Today my husband beat me,…
LOOK AT A MAP Kajubi Look at a map; You will perceive a beautiful country with rivers of fishes, many valleys suitable for grain, lakes overflowing with milk and honey, mountains of good black soil a few minerals, yearning for full utilization: Seventeen million people…. You look at the map; You will not see the splendour of my country, seventeen million souls on this vast area of land, the world calling them wretched. And I here, a chosen son of the land, a son my people chose to confide in, and give the last handful of grain, from the barn,…
JUST SIT, OPPRESSOR, JUST SIT Isaac Mruma Just cross your legs With the belly covering them, Oppressor. Just yoga there, Smoking imported cigars, A product of their toil, Oppressor. Just sit belching Yesterday’s feed, Stoop there and grin At bones toiling in Suffocation. Count oppressor, Spell out in your book of evils Recording the toll of the unlucky You have robbed. When they sell their unga To the lone fat you And you clasp it tightly, Hoarding Their own property; When you eat As they die just rest. The bullet of reawakening Will raise you From your nap, For it…
THE GRACEFUL GIRAFFE CANNOT BECOME A MONKEY Okot P B’tek (Uganda) My husband tells me I have no ideas Of modern beauty. He says I have stuck To old-fashioned hair styles. He says I am stupid and very backward, That my hair style Makes him sick Because I am dirty. It is true I cannot do my hair As white women do. Listen, My father comes from Payira, My mother is a woman of Koc! I am a true Acoli I am not a half-caste I am not a slave girl; My father was not brought home By the spear…
EPILOGUE By Grace Nichols About the Author Grace Nichols is a poet whose work has been central to our understanding of the important cultural Caribbean-British connection for nearly 3 decades. Nichols was born in Guyana in 1950, and moved to live in the UK in 1977. Her work is influenced by the history and culture of her homeland, in particular the oral story-telling tradition with its fantastic folk tales, the landscape and its rural tasks and the history of enslavement (particularly relating to women). Grace Nichols EPILOGUE Grace Nichols (Guyana) I have crossed an ocean I have lost my…
ONCE UPON A TIME By Gabriel Okara About the Author Gabriel Imomotimi Okara (24 April 1921 – 25 March 2019) was a Nigerian poet and novelist who was born in Bumoundi in Yenagoa, Bayelsa State, Nigeria. The first Modernist poet of Anglophone Africa, he is best known for his early experimental novel, The Voice (1964), and his award-winning poetry, published in The Fisherman’s Invocation (1978) and The Dreamer, His Vision (2005). Gabriel Okara ONCE UPON A TIME Gabriel Okara (Nigeria) Once upon a time, son They used to laugh with their eyes: But now they only laugh with their teeth,…
THE LAZY MAN By Kingsley omokhudu Ajayi Nigeria THE LAZY MAN When the cock crows The lazy man smacks his lips and says; So it is daybreak again, is it? And before he turns over heavily, Before he even stretches himself, Before he even yawns – The farmer has reached the farm, The water carriers arrive at the river, The spinners are spinning their cotton, The weaver works on his cloth, And the fire blazes in the blacksmith’s hut. The lazy man knows where the soup is sweet He goes from house to house. If there is no sacrifice…
WESTERN CIVILIZATION By Agostinho Neto About the Author António Agostinho Neto (17 September 1922 – 10 September 1979) was an Angolan politician and poet. He served as the 1st President of Angola (1975–1979), having led the Popular Movement for the Liberation of Angola (MPLA) in the war for independence (1961–1974). Until his death, he led the MPLA in the civil war (1975–2002). Known also for his literary activities, he is considered Angola’s preeminent poet. His birthday is celebrated as National Heroes’ Day, a public holiday in Angola. Agostinho Neto WESTERN CIVILIZATION Augostinho Neto (Angola) (Translated from Portuguese by Margret Dickinson)…
FRONTLINE George Shea Frontline Where manhood and consciousness is tested The only place to bury persecutions and burden of ages The only place to declare names immortal Trust me brother you will not be alone there Frontline Where bullets will graze on man and grass Where man will make his own lightning and thunder Where the enemy will fall and never to rise Brother truly my shadow will be next to yours Frontline I know it is bitter but I like it. I like it particularly because it is bitter. I like because it is where I belong For out…
