Forgive me if I am have written about this before, but I scanned through old entries and could not find the reference that I was looking for.
During the 17 months that I lived in Nigeria, I was fortunate to obtain a copy of Poems of Black Africa, an anthology of some of the continent's best poets and their poems, edited by Wole Soyinka. For as long as I can remember, I have had a love affair with poetry. I've been writing poems since the age of 10, or perhaps earlier. I think the first well-written poem I wrote was penned at the tender age of 12. This being so, I was always on the lookout for a good book of poems and Poems of Black Africa certainly falls into this category. In fact, to say that it is 'good' seems a gross understatement, but I did not begin this entry with the intention of providing a full scale review of the book.
I came across Poems ... on one of many trips to Wuse Market, located in Nigeria's capital city of Abuja. I was browsing in the bookshops, which bore a very scarce resemblance to some of the second-hand bookstores that I have been to in Ottawa. The bookshops in Wuse Market were very small and yet seemed to house hundreds of books, stacked on shelves and in piles on the floor. When I entered a shop, I would sometimes ask for books by a specific African author or else ask for any books by Nigerian authors. It was on one of these occasions that I was handed a copy of Poems of Black Africa.
I remember quite clearly that the first time I opened the book the poem I came across was Bahadur Tejani's 'Leaving the Country'. I gazed upon those words in stunned silence. At this time, I was struggling to come to grips with my upcoming departure, which was scheduled to take place shortly after I completed the 6-month internship that had been my raison d'être for coming to Nigeria. At that time, little did I know that I would end up staying another 11 months.
As I read the poem, I felt myself falling a "deep daze of dislocation" (to quote the author). The words were painfully beautiful and beautifully painful. I fell in love with the words, the way they made my heart ache with longing and sadness, expressing feelings I had not had the ability to articulate (at least not as eloquently). I felt like weeping and perhaps, later in the privacy of my single room apartment, I did. The last stanza of the poem had a particularly profound effect on me at the time, although I admit that I would find it difficult to play favourites now. But for the sake of recollection and sharing, the last section of the poem reads:
"Only one solace:
there have been
others too,
lingering in that twilight,
who shed
home and country
and at times
colour
who travelled the long way
and also never felt happy. "
At the time I read those words, I was not happy. I was struggling with the thought of leaving a place I had come to consider 'home' and returning to a place I had, for the most part, willingly and happily left behind (although with some trepidation, this having been my first venture overseas). But, as I've already said, I did not leave then. I stayed, perhaps longer than I should have. However, I do not regret lingering there. I still have a lot of love in my heart for Nigeria and hope, some day, to return to the country. Perhaps when I do, I will write a poem about it.
During the 17 months that I lived in Nigeria, I was fortunate to obtain a copy of Poems of Black Africa, an anthology of some of the continent's best poets and their poems, edited by Wole Soyinka. For as long as I can remember, I have had a love affair with poetry. I've been writing poems since the age of 10, or perhaps earlier. I think the first well-written poem I wrote was penned at the tender age of 12. This being so, I was always on the lookout for a good book of poems and Poems of Black Africa certainly falls into this category. In fact, to say that it is 'good' seems a gross understatement, but I did not begin this entry with the intention of providing a full scale review of the book.
I came across Poems ... on one of many trips to Wuse Market, located in Nigeria's capital city of Abuja. I was browsing in the bookshops, which bore a very scarce resemblance to some of the second-hand bookstores that I have been to in Ottawa. The bookshops in Wuse Market were very small and yet seemed to house hundreds of books, stacked on shelves and in piles on the floor. When I entered a shop, I would sometimes ask for books by a specific African author or else ask for any books by Nigerian authors. It was on one of these occasions that I was handed a copy of Poems of Black Africa.
I remember quite clearly that the first time I opened the book the poem I came across was Bahadur Tejani's 'Leaving the Country'. I gazed upon those words in stunned silence. At this time, I was struggling to come to grips with my upcoming departure, which was scheduled to take place shortly after I completed the 6-month internship that had been my raison d'être for coming to Nigeria. At that time, little did I know that I would end up staying another 11 months.
As I read the poem, I felt myself falling a "deep daze of dislocation" (to quote the author). The words were painfully beautiful and beautifully painful. I fell in love with the words, the way they made my heart ache with longing and sadness, expressing feelings I had not had the ability to articulate (at least not as eloquently). I felt like weeping and perhaps, later in the privacy of my single room apartment, I did. The last stanza of the poem had a particularly profound effect on me at the time, although I admit that I would find it difficult to play favourites now. But for the sake of recollection and sharing, the last section of the poem reads:
"Only one solace:
there have been
others too,
lingering in that twilight,
who shed
home and country
and at times
colour
who travelled the long way
and also never felt happy. "
At the time I read those words, I was not happy. I was struggling with the thought of leaving a place I had come to consider 'home' and returning to a place I had, for the most part, willingly and happily left behind (although with some trepidation, this having been my first venture overseas). But, as I've already said, I did not leave then. I stayed, perhaps longer than I should have. However, I do not regret lingering there. I still have a lot of love in my heart for Nigeria and hope, some day, to return to the country. Perhaps when I do, I will write a poem about it.
No comments:
Post a Comment