I stood up and tried to follow the figure. The wind began to blow, and I felt it was calling to me for some reason. Navigating through the crowd was difficult. Some kids were bothering me by tugging at my feet, while teenagers watched me with disdain nearby because I was blocking their view. The… Continue reading Diary of A Village Boy: The Leopard Spirit 12 (Tales by Moonlight 2)
Tag: culture
Muse: Granny’s Clay Pot
Memories Most traditional pots in Igboland are made from moulded clay dried in kilns. In times past, the Igbo society is well known for pottery. Water collected from streams and springs is fed into the big pot. So through the night, the clay pot makes the water chill. In the morning, a cup of water… Continue reading Muse: Granny’s Clay Pot
Messenger
Kokookoroko kokorokoro A greeting called from afar The children ran out excited As if the message was for them But then who knows? Heads up, listen attentively Komkom korookom Another beat rang out Pushing the mild hit Into the ears of the heaviest village sleeper ‘Oh how cute, it is one of the King’s messengers’… Continue reading Messenger
Two Poems: Together we watch day end and my Dancer
(1) TOGETHER WE WATCH DAY END Baobab and Palm are shelters, Glittering stars are my friends, Waterfalls and Lions, my brothers And together we watch day end. (2) MY DANCER I steal a glance when you dance Memories of pouting lips haunt me I dreamed of you and I once But wished it away if… Continue reading Two Poems: Together we watch day end and my Dancer
Health, our new Wealth
Health is a new wealth! Here are some factors that may help us live healthily. Our psychology plays a significant role in our wellbeing. If you think healthy thoughts, you’ll be healthy. We were thinking healthy means being conscious of our internal and external environment and knowing how to maintain a proper balance. As a… Continue reading Health, our new Wealth
Tungan Maje By Michelle Basil
Our relationship with family and friends, with our immediate environment and passion for others makes us human. Michelle Basil is my guest this beautiful and sunny morning. This is her story. Michelle believes that simple things in life matter. She is a lover of outdoors, sunshine and trees. Her favourite spot is Tungan Maje, the… Continue reading Tungan Maje By Michelle Basil
Thoughts on the State of Leadership in Africa
No one can fully explain why we – Africans, are so poor amid plenty. I will try to explain why. There’s a lot of greed and grief in African leadership. When leaders are greedy, citizens stagger in distress. We still don’t know how the dust hit us between the eyes. And while we researched answers,… Continue reading Thoughts on the State of Leadership in Africa
The King’s Messenger: Town Crier
Kokookoroko kokorokoro A greeting called from afar The children ran out excited As if this message was for them But then who knows? Heads up, listen attentively Komkom korookom Another beat rang out Pushing the mild hit Into the ears of even the heaviest village sleeper ‘Oh how cute, it is one of the King’s… Continue reading The King’s Messenger: Town Crier
Poetale after the Days work
Now we gather by the fireside Waiting for yams to roast Warming our hands in the heat On this evening, cool and mild The dreams we wait to dream The waiting pillow beckoning The tales in hopes of telling And a joyful evening it seems The hot day had gone up those hills Releasing a… Continue reading Poetale after the Days work
Celebrating Talent: Damilola Ajayi
I thought about celebrating good and talented people. Here we go, the first person in the series! Permit me to introduce this pretty, humble, enterprising young lady. She is Damilola Ajayi, from Ekiti state in Nigeria. When I first met Dami in 2017, I wasn’t so sure of what to expect from her. As I… Continue reading Celebrating Talent: Damilola Ajayi
Tradition: Breaking the Igbo Kola nut 2 (Iwa oji Igbo)
Onye wetara oji, wetara ndu. Ndi be anyi ekelem unu oo. God, our tryst maker! Chinekem ke b’nigwe! One that holds the Earth with bare hands And causes the winds to soar where You wills My God, we have gathered once again to celebrate To enjoy the life which you have blessed us with! Nna… Continue reading Tradition: Breaking the Igbo Kola nut 2 (Iwa oji Igbo)
I wonder why it is called a tree
Yet she is dressed like a masquerade
With thorny arms raised to deliver a blow
And fins to wade thru a turbulent storm
Dangerous as she looks,
She is quietly harmless
Swerving from one wind to another
She enjoy the attention of the airs
When there is a heavy storm
She guides the little shrubs
When the sun shine bright
She takes also much heat
She stand, tall and fixated…
Breaking the wind surge
Wearing a grim apparition
One of piety and grace
She possesses queer tentacles
Which come as green leaves
Growing a shade of shadows
For every thing which seek refuge
The tree is both benevolent to man and wild
Dancing to the tune of both commanders
She gives her fruits as food and snack
And the leaves and barks are vegetables
So this person called the Palm
Is more than a tree.
In parts of lands below the Tropics
We can say she is part of the culture
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Nneoma, nwayi oma m ji eme onu
Obidiya,
Anam ede akwukwo a
N’ihi gi, n’ihi ihunanya gi
Iru gi di ka mmiri no n’iyi
Ochi gi na-eme m obi uto
Enweghi ihe m ga eji tunyere ya
Lee kwa mgbe akwa n’egbum
I kpom si
“Bia, kam bie gi oma
Tinye aka gi n’akam
Biko kwusi ibe akwa”
Lee kwasim anya na anya
Nwayi mara mma
Mara udiri udo na anuri
Di na obim tata
Mgbe ubosi na adada
I na eche m nche
Mgbe oke oyi na atu
I nye akwa gi
Mgbe agu di n’obodo
I nyem ihe oriri gi
Mara nke a, nwayi oma
Mara na m huru gi n’anya
Commentary.
There is a translation after this commentary. Here goes my first native poem in Igbo language! The Igbo is a south east Nigerian nation. I can’t say why this poem came today or why it hasn’t come before now. I have looked forward to writing more in African languages with appropriate translation in English. I dedicate this poem to all my loved ones, to friends and well wishers, to you my beloved readers and finally to all mothers.
Title: Sweet Mother
Sweet mother, my pride!
The husbands heart beat
I write this piece
Cos of you, cos of your love
Your face glitter like the waters of the stream
Your laughter gives me joy
Nothing compares to it!
Even when I cry before you,
You call to me, saying
“Come to me dear
Give me your hands
Please, stop crying”
Now look at my eyes
Beautiful and good woman
And know the kind of joy
That brews in my heart!
When night comes upon us
You shield me
When the cold is terrible
You give your warmth
Even when famine comes
You give me your food
And please know this dear mother
I am so in love with you
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Strings of flax fall from your stress
Hides carved from animal skin
And strange cloth embellish you
You swerve around like a drunk
Scaring children and younger folk
Caring for nothing but for asunder
The masks on you remind of the hyena
Your whip dragging behind you as you walk
As you seek peoples’ doors to knock
The dogs are scared of your appearance
For they cant stop your uninvited attendance
At homes, mothers yell for their kids
But you only care for your needs
Now palm beer is brought before you
And some lobes of finest of kola nut
For appeasing of the spirits which are come
Unto men from the ancient hills and caves
Let the kettle see the pot as a friend
And not as a foe for they two are black
Let the Eagle perch and the Kite as well
None should forbid the other from perching
Now have the fill of your beer
For your next bus stop
The wine might not be as good as this
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I am Igbo
Not because I am fair
Not because I am tall
…Or short
I am Igbo
Not because I travel a lot
Not because I live in hamlets
… And towns
I am Igbo
Not because I live in Africa
Not because I sell for profits
… Or for loss
I am Igbo
Not because I say so
Not because I am hated
… Or loved
I am Igbo
Because I am a culture
A tradition, not just a tribe
But a people,
A great people of God
A poet and a farmer
A technician and a scholar
Hope of the African race
Born through thick and thin
Fearing no man
But God who made all
I am tradition
A masquerade
In the village square
I am a stream
Flowing in peace
Washing mens nakedness
I am a hunter
Who dares wild beasts
And strikes with no fear
I am hope
Accompanied with faith
With the fear of God
I am a fisherman
Trailing my traps
Tucked away in creeks
I am a farmer
The one who feeds the clan
Eze-ji, king of yams!
I am the dibia, the physician
The one who heals
Throught the help of the Almighty
I am a rainmaker
A descendant
Of the shadows of men
Striving to be free
I am just a man
Who live quietly
Fearing no man or deity
But the One True God
I am Igbo!
Igbo Kwenu!
Note:
The Igbo is a Southern tribe in Nigeria, renowned for their industry, entreprise and daring attitude. Basically the poet seems to link his tribes culture to religion. The Igbos are predominantly Christians and can be seen in every profession the world can offer.
Dibia: Locally called the medicine man or the herbalist feared and reverred in ancient times to possess powers beyond human comprehension.
Eze ji: The King of Yams.
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The call of the hills…
On a night dark as pitch
We stay listening to the swooshing trees
And the strange call up the hills…
A tornado of wind come surfing down
Pushing the brushes and woods apart
Sending both man, child and pets scrambling
Tall and strong wild palms bend double
Threatening to crush who dare stare
The dark clouds growl like a young lion
Shaking the breadths of the firmaments
The firmaments rumblings shook everyone
Wide eyed infants, the whistling pine and the Owl
The dogs bark and hide behind their kennels
Tethered farm animals shriek with fear
The cold came, and with such a surge!
It wooed the candle light
Which danced with such excitement
But the Rain never came
The Rain was locked out
Today was not his own day
A night as such as this
A windy tale to be told
An inspiration hewn down the hill
From up the dark firmaments of the night
From the hills of an African hamlet…
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God our tryst maker
Our lover and He who knows all
Chineke m, ke bi nigwe!
Maker of the Universe
He whom fetches water with a basket
To disgrace the bucket
He who whips us with one hand
And consoles us with the other
He who stills a raging sea
He who made the Kola nut
The King of all foods!
We come to You, our maker
We break the Kola nut
Before You, maker of the Kola
The food that never fills the stomach
But it is the King of all food!
We have the Cassava and the Yam
But the Kola is the King of all food
It is not eaten with Palm oil
It is not pounded on mortar
Nor stewed in a dish of porridge
It is not meshed in meat or fish
It stands alone, all alone
Like the Iroko in the forest!
It is not food for children
But this food is for men!
Our farms shall be fruitful
Our children more fruitful
Our streams shall have fish
And our forests shall have vegetables
The heat of the sun won’t scorch us to death
The pain of pregnant women
Shall become a joy in the morning
The clouds shall water our gardens
We shall eat of our sweat
Make us contented with what we have
You have given us the yam
You have also given us the knife to cut it
Learn the Igbo language here.
Let the moon shine when she must
Let the Sunshine when she must
Let the wind bring us good tidings
And let us see many smiles
On the faces of all in the hamlet
Let the Eagle perch
Let also the Kite perch
Any that forbids the other from perching
Let his wings break!
If one seeks downfall for us
Let such befall those people
Let not our enemies hostile light burn us
We shall have our children as the Hebrew women
Our children shall have their own
And our children’s children
We break the Kola!
Iri di nwata na okenye nma!
Commentary.
I wrote this poem some time ago. I had found it necessary to revise and edit some lines of the piece, seeing that tradition is something dynamic. I seek to share a bit of my African culture. The Igbo is a South Eastern Nigerian tribe, an enterprising nation situated on the Niger Delta of Nigeria. As a growing kid some
decades ago, I have witnessed Igbo Kola breaking
traditions- a series of cultural rituals performed more like prayers. It’s typically used to welcome visitors, especially at festivities.
Notes.
Line 3: Chineke m, ke bi nigwe: Igbo language for My God who lives in Heaven.
Line 55: iri di nwata na okenye nma! Igbo for food good for both the young and elderly
Study Questions.
1. What are the figures of speech present in the poem?
2. Discuss the imagery.
3. Would you classify this as a traditional poem? Why?
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Nigeria
In the morning, the sun rises Above the horizons and cliffs And on the smiling faces on the farms The hope rises with the sun As the children roll out their bicycles To the tanned fields of the hamlet Followed by their pets, puppies and kittens A proud cloud draws a huge smile And on… Continue reading Nigeria
