THE MATTER AND MANNER OF MODERN
WEST AFRICAN POETRY EN ENGLISH:
A STUDY OF OKEGBQ, CLARK,
AWOONOR-WELLIAMS AND PETERS

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Romanus Nnagbo Egudu

1966

   

 
    

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THE MATTER AND MANNER or MODERN
WEST AFRICAN POETRY IN ENGLISH:
A STUDY OF OKIGBO, CLARK,
AWOONOR-WILLIAMS AND PETERS

presented by
Romanus Nnagbo Eguduf

has been accepted towards fulfillment
of the requirements for

Ph. D. degree mm

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Date W66—

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ABSTRACT

THE MATTER AND MANNER OF MODERN WEST AFRICAN
POETRY IN ENGLISH: A STUDY OF OKIGBO,
CLARK, AWOONOR-WILLIAMS AND PETERS

by Romanus Nnagbo Egudu

Modern West African poetry in English deals with a
variety of subjects ranging from personal and indigenous
eXperiences to universal themes, like love and death. This
poetry is influenced by West African vernacular and colonial
poetry, which the author has treated as a necessary back—
ground for its study in this dissertation. It is also
greatly influenced by English and American poetry. The
poetry of Christopher Okigbo and John Pepper Clark from
Nigeria, George Awoonor-Williams from Ghana, and Lenrie
Peters from Gambia demonstrates very clearly the themes and
techniques of modern West African poetry in English, the
extent to which it has been influenced by the native and
foreign poetry, and the fact that though it is written in a
foreign language, it still remains essentially African.

Christopher Okigbo handles the theme of the clash of
the indigenous and fOreign systems of religious worship, and

presents this clash symbolically by juxtaposing Christian

 

 

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and pagan images throughout his major poems. Closely allied
to this theme are the themes of cultural atavism and theo-
machy. Okigbo's techniques include image-making, melody-
making, repetition, ellipticism, cryptic allusions, tags
from several languages and deliberate obscurity, all of
which show the pervasive influence of Ezra Pound. The tone
of incantation, and such indigenous sacrificial objects as
the "new laid egg" and the "white hen," which are associated
with the indigenous system of worship, are among the influ—
ences of the vernacular poetry on Okigbo.

A tragic vision of life coupled with an incessant
wail permeates the work of the next poet, John Pepper Clark.
In his poetry, man is ever in chaos whether he is struggling
against misfortunes, engaged in frustrating love adventures,
or subjected to an oppression he cannot escape. He needs
faith and courage to accept life on earth, if only with
tragic joy. Clark's poetry echoes Hopkins, T. S. Eliot,
Donne, Marvell, Arnold, Yeats and Auden. The influence of
the native poetry on Clark consists of indigenous images,
proverbs and mythology. Because of his power over words and
his luminous vision, Clark is the greatest of the modern
West African poets writing in English.

To study George Awoonor-Williams is to study many
patterns of conflicts, such as cultural, erotic, and philo—

sophical. His poetry is rife with local images, proverbs,

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Romanus Nnagbo Egudu

rituals and allusions to the indigenous myths, which are
characteristic of the vernacular poetry. On the other hand,
there are only slight echoes of foreign poetry in his work.

,A diagnosis of the social, moral, ethical and intel-
lectual sickness of the world is made in the poetry of
Lenrie Peters. This poet sees life as diseased, with no
assurance of permanent security in the "centuries plagued"
here on earth, or in death, which only "deludes" men. Thus,
throughout Peters' poetry, one finds biological, clinical
and pathological images. Traces of Donne, Eliot and Dylan
Thomas occur in his poetry, while little of the native
influence appears.

The value of modern West African poetry in English
is that it appeals to non—African English-speaking people,
and much more to the English—speaking Africans. The English
and the Americans, for instance, can appreciate its literary
merits because it is written in a language that they speak,
and because most of the poetry deals with universal themes.
The Africans enjoy this degree of the value, and in addition,
derive extra pleasure due to their knowledge of the indige—
nous vernacular poetry, mythology and cultural life in

general.

 

 

THE MATTER AND MANNER OF MODERN WEST AFRICAN

POETRY IN ENGLISH: A STUDY OF OKIGBO,

CLARK, AWOONOR-WILLIAMS AND PETERS

BY

Romanus Nnagbo Egudu

A THESIS

Submitted to
Michigan State University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

Department of English

1966

 

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

I should like to express my sincere gratitude to
Professor A. J. M. Smith, who supervised my research and the
writing of this dissertation. His invaluable advice and in—
spiration account for much of the success of this study.

A large measure of my thanks also goes to Professors E. P.
Lawrence (Chairman of my Guidance Committee) and G. R. Price
for their critical reading of the text and for suggestions
that greatly improved it.

Among all the friends who have helped in any way to
make the work a success, to whom I am very much indebted,
Messrs. Peter Okeh, Thomas Agu, Nicholas Ugwu, Thomas Inyiama,
Nicholas Inyang and Segun Ogundipe deserve special mention
for their assistance with some of the material out of which
this thesis grew. I thank Mr. Alfred Opubor for his useful
suggestions and stimulating discussions with me, and Mr. and
Mrs. James I. McClintock for their kindness and concern
throughout the period of the research.

Finally, I am grateful to May (Maria) for her
patience and loving cooperation; to my mother and my guardian
and his wife who have played indispensable roles in my educa—
tional life; and to my brothers, sisters and all relations

for their good will and encouragement.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Chapter
I. WEST AFRICAN TRADITIONAL POETRY IN
TRANSLATION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Introductory Statements . . . . . . . . .
Yoruba Poetry . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Ojebe Poetry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Invocatory Poetry . . . . . . . . . .
"Triumphal" Poetry——Praise of Self . .
Incantatory Poetry . . . . . .
Laudatory Poetry——Praise of Others . .
Didactic and Satirical Poetry . . . .
Lullabies and Private Songs . . . . .
Elocutionary Poetry . . . . . . .
Comparison With Yoruba Poetry . . . .
Akan Poetry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Ewe Poetry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Ijebu Poetry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"Independence" (By Adebayo Faleti) . . . .
Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

II. WEST AFRICAN COLONIAL POETRY IN ENGLISH
(1950—1960) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

General Statements . . . . . . . . . . . .
Davidson (Abioseh) Nicol . . . . . . . . .
J. V. B. Danquah . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Dennis Osadebay . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

III. WEST AFRICAN POETRY IN ENGLISH TODAY

Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Choice of Medium . . . . . . . . . . .
Foreign Influences on Modern West African
Poetry in English . . . . . . . . . . .
Themes of Modern West African Poetry
in English . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Page

47
47
49
54
56
59
61

61
62

78

80

 

VII.

VIII.

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Chapter

IV.

V.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

CHRISTOPHER OKIGBO AND FOREIGN INFLUENCES

Introduction . . . .
The Mortar Is Not Yet
Thematic Influence .
Stylistic Influence .
Conclusion . . . . .

A CROSS OF HANDS ON HEAD:
JOHN PEPPER CLARK . . .

ETIOLOGY OF CONFLICTS:

General Observation .
Man in Chaos . . . .
Man and Eros . . . .
Man and Nature . . .
Quest for Courage . .
Man and Tradition . .
"Ivbie" . . . . . . .
Conclusion . . . . .

GEORGE AWOONOR-WILLIAMS

LIFE

Introduction . . .
The Old and the New .
Passion and Purity .
Being and Becoming .

Dry

THE POETRY OF

0 o o -

Celebration of the Indigenous Way

of Life . . . .
Of Sorrow and Acidia:
Bird Cry" . . . . .
Conclusion . . . . .

PATHOLOGY:

General Observation .
Human Insecurity . .
Social Decadence . .
Shuttered Ambulances
A Ray of Hope . . . .
Conclusion . . . . .

CONCLUSION . . . . . . . .

BIBLIOGRAPHY . . . . . . . . . . .

iv

0

III

LENRIE PETERS'

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Page

113

113
115
138
152
155
159
165
177

181

181
184
197
204

209

212
227

231

231
232
247
255
262
267

269

277

 

 

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INTRODUCTION

The modern West African poets writing in English who
are specially studied in this work come from three of the
four West African countries that were formerly British colo—
nies: Nigeria, Ghana, Sierra Leone and Gambia. These poets
are Christopher Okigbo and John Pepper Clark from Nigeria,
George Awoonor—Williams from Ghana and Lenrie Peters from
Gambia. All of them have had University education. Okigbo
and Clark were both educated at the University College,
Ibadan,where they studied Classics and English respectively;
Awoonor—Williams read English at the University of Ghana,
while Peters took a degree in medicine at Trinity College,
Cambridge,and studied surgery at Guildford.

Most prolific among contemporary West African
English—speaking poets, and producing most of the best poems
written in English in West Africa today, the four poets have
handled a wide range of subjects, including the conflict of
native and foreign cultures, human sufferings and death, art
and love, ancestral themes, and personal experiences. The
degree in which they have dealt with these themes varies and
accounts, in part, for the nature of the treatment given to

each poet in this study.

 

 

 

 

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A great deal of the charm and strength of modern

West African poetry in English results from its being in—
fluenced by West African vernacular and colonial poetry,
and English, Eur0pean and American poetry. Rising out of
its own specific poetic tradition, modern West African
poetry echoes, but does not reproduce the English, European
or American tradition. Furthermore, the West African poets
have not been equally affected by foreign influences. None-
theless, the ability of each poet to read, speak and write
English has opened to him new vistas into the wealth of
poetic culture and experience found in many foreign coun-
tries, so that with his native creative talents, he can weld
a measure of these foreign eXperiences into the bulk of his
own traditional poetic material to produce poetry that is
exquisite in artistry and rich in several nuances of appeal.
The influence of the indigenous oral poetry on mod—
ern West African poetry has often been pointed out, but it
has never been dealt with in any detail. It stands to rea—
son that the traditional oral poetry can be described, to
some extent, as the "patrimoin" bequeathed to our modern
poetry; and what sounds like a prophecy by one critic has

already been fulfilled:

There will no doubt arise in the New Africa
creative writers who will soon combine in poetry
the written word and the oral traditions. . . .

 

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Certainly this integration of indigenous ele— 1
ments can be beautifully done in poetry. . . .

That this has already taken effect is the observation of
John Reed and Clive Wake, who have said that "there are
poets who are really adapting African vernacular literature
into a European language.”2 The poetry of George Awoonor—
Williams, for instance, derives its life—blood chiefly from
the vernacular poetry. The themes of divination, initiation
into the indigenous cults, and funeral ceremony are rife in
his poetry. Also proverbs and images drawn directly on the
indigenous culture appear more abundantly in his work than
in that of any other of the poets. But these others also
exhibit some influences of the vernacular poetry, as will be
seen later.

West African colonial poetry has had only a very
slight impact on West African modern poetry. Aside from the
themes of anguish and the conflict of cultures which the
moderns might have inherited from the colonial poets, this
older poetry (most of it is really no poetry) has scarcely
any value. The theme of culture conflict is, however, an
important feature of modern West African literature in

general, as Ezekiel Mphahlele has remarked:

 

l
Langston Hughes. ed. Poems from Black Africa
(Bloomington, 1963), p. 15.

2

 

A Book of African Verse (London, 1964), pp. 3—4.

 

 

. . . the clash between the old and the new
is much sharper than you can ever see in the
South. And the artist in West Africa is pre—
occupied with this clash.

It should, however, be constantly borne in mind that
in matters of metrical technique the West African poets owe
nothing to the indigenous vernacular poetry, and that the
political rhetoric and the tendency to didacticism and senti—
mentality, which are found in the colonial poetry scarcely
show in the modern poetry. But the "recognition of the pain—
ful reality of the destruction of an ancestral way of life,“
and "anguish" which is "one of the great central experiences"
of the poets of the colonial period are two prominent strands
reaching the present from the past.4

The other source of influences on modern West African
poetry is foreign. These influences are primarily in the
form of themes and the metrical and structural organisation
of the poetry. Christopher Okigbo, for instance, is noted
for his deliberate obscurity,5 which arises from the use of
strange language, allusions and ellipticism that Ezra Pound

is the master of. He also has a great penchant for the

 

3The African Image (London, 1962), pp. 193-194.

/ 4Samuel Allen, "Tendencies in African Poetry,"
Presence Africaine: African Seen by American Negroes, 1958,
pp. 177 and 192.

5Ulli Beier, "Three Mbari Poets," Black Orpheus,
No. 12 (1963), 47.

 

 

 

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image-making which we find in Pound, and which A. J. M. Smith

recognises as an important aspect of poetry by saying that
"poetic language is a form of picture-writing. . . ."6
J. P. Clark's intricately woven syntax and multiworded adjec—
tives and alliteration show that Clark has been "apprenticed“
under G. M. Hopkins. In Peters and Clark can be noticed that
"intimate wedding of passion and argument which is the essen—
tial quality of the 'metaphysical' lyric";7 and the "subtle
spiritual and erotic conflicts in modern man" that bulk
prominently in the poetry of John Donne and T. S. Eliot,8
are characteristic of some of the poetry of Clark again and
Awoonor-Williams.

Because of these many foreign influences and because
the modern West African poets write in a foreign language,
it has been often argued that these writers cannot produce
"truly" African literature. Also it is the view of many
scholars and critics that for the African literature to be
"truly" African, the writers must write on African "topics."

That these arguments are not solid is borne out by the

 

6100 Poems (New York, 1965), p. x.

7Herbert J. C. Grierson, "John Donne," in The
Cambridge History of English Literature, Vol. IV, ed.
A. W. Ward and A. R. Waller (Cambridge, England, 1910),
p. 245.

 

8Joseph Ellis Duncan, The Revival of Metaphysical
Poetry; The History of Style, 1800 to the Present
(Minneapolis, 1959), p. 154.

 

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performances of the modern West African poets, who have

produced not only "truly" African poetry, but also great
poetry.

The following pages will deal with the nature and
method of West African vernacular and colonial poetry in
general, and the poetry of Christopher Okigbo, J. P. Clark,
George Awoonor—Williams and Lenrie Peters in particular,
demonstrating the themes and techniques of, and the native

and foreign influences on these poets.

 

CHAPTER I

WEST AFRICAN TRADITIONAL POETRY IN TRANSLATION

. . . les procédés stylistiques de la littérature
africaine de tradition orale constituent un
patrimoin commun a tous les Négro-Africains.

Introductory Statements

 

Traditional African life in general is rich in
poetic expressions, and these expressions are poetic in a
sense that is far—reaching, for they are not only spontaneous
and realistic, but also beautiful, musical, and profound in
diction and imagery. The funeral ceremony of an important
Ibo man, for instance, vindicates the elegiac qualities of
the eulogy pronounced on this hero and his feats. This
poetry is oral, and much of it is neither recorded nor trans-
lated, for it is rightly believed that once any song or poem
is translated from the vernacular into, say English, it loses
its essence. This is true, though only to the extent that
the particular piece sheds the rhythm and some of the lin—

guistic tricks and figurative devices which form the aesthetic

 

/ lJanheinz Jahn, "Sur la littérature africaine,"
Presence Africain, No. 48 (1963), 162.

 

 

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equipage of most African languages; but it is not true to

insist that no "meaning" can be retained by such translation.

Mr. Ulli Beier has noted this problem of translation
from African languages, but still finds the task worth under-
taking, illustrating the case for its utility by referring
to the "Akan Funeral Dirges" translated by Kwabena Nketia,2
and Adeboye Babalola's "Ijala"3 as indicative of the fact
"that the effort is worthwhile, because our knowledge of
African life is greatly enriched."4

Though the difficulty of translation exists, consid-
erable successful work has been accomplished in some parts
of West Africa—-Nigeria and Ghana. A study of some of these
traditional poems, even though in translation, can reveal
not only that poetry is not one of the innovations of colo-
nialism, but that the modern West African poets (at least
those writing in English) have inherited something from this

tradition, not with respect to the technique of versification,

but to the concept of poetry, poetic content, and imagery.

 

2See The Funeral Dirges of the Akan People (Achimota,

1955).

3Published in Black Orpheus, No. 1 (September 1957),
5-16.

4Bakare Gbadamosi and Ulli Beier, trans. Yoruba
Poetry (Ibadan, Nigeria, 1959), p. 6. Yoruba is a tribe
in Western Nigeria.

 

 

 

 

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Mr. Beier, for a different reason and in a different

connexion, has pointed out the similarities and dissimilar-
ities between European poetry and Yoruba poetry:

Yoruba poems abound in metaphors, similes,

onomatopoeia, repetition and alliteration (but

not rhyme). They have humor, irony, pathos and

bathos. But the regularity of rhythm patterns

to which the European ear is accustomed seems

to be lacking.5
Those qualities shared in common by European poetry and
Yoruba poetry are not copied from European poetry, but are
inherent in Yoruba language. Though the rhythmic regularity
is wanting in Yoruba poetry, it seems ‘that this poetry
has its own kind of regularity that is enhanced by the use
of parallel statements, and regular breaks along the lines.

This point will be demonstrated in the course of this discus-

sion.

Yoruba Poetry

 

The Gbadamosi-Beier collection contains many Yoruba
poems classified according to their content, the groups who
use them specially, the situation in which they are sung or
spoken. The first kind is the Praise Names sung in honour

of the Yoruba Creator God, Obatala.6 The attributes of this

 

51bid.. pp. 8-9.

6Ibid., p. 14. Other references to this work will

'be given within parentheses in the body of this study.

 

 

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God are given. He is not the wrathful God of vengeance, but
one Who judges his people patiently. He is omniscient and
so alert that whether he is far or near he sees all that is
happening: "He sees you even when he is not looking." He
is a protector, who "stands by his children and lets them
succeed," and he keeps them happy, for "his eye is full of
joy." His is not the gospel of giving more to him who has
from the meagre store of one who has not, but that which
"takes from the rich and gives to the poor," for

Those who are rich owe their property to him.
Those who‘are poor, owe their poverty to him.

This is Obatala, who creates——". . . turns blood into
children"—-and who, though a woman has "only one cloth to
dye with blue indigo" and "only one headtie to dye with red
camwood," is so generous and fair in his distribution of
wealth and children that he will still "keep twenty or thirty
children for me/ Whom I shall bear." Because of these divine
cares, peOple ceremonialise the worship of Obatala with
ritualistic dancing "to our sixteen drums," dancing "low" to
eight of the drums and "erect" to the other eight. This is
one example of the African's concept of the supreme God,
which is highly votive and reverential.

The praise Song of Ataoja (p. 23) presents a king
‘MhO is a good and loving husband, a man of affluence and
(mommensurate generosity and hospitality, whose physical

cflnarms parallel his moral suavity. He is a "wealthy man"

 

 

 

 

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and "will never be in want." In a patriotic spirit, he fed
the coffers of his town Oshogbo with the money he collected
"from Onitsha" where he dug "all the shillings," and "from
Benin you bring money to build Oshogbo." He, unlike Dives,
receives beggars: "You give away whole pots of soup to
beggars," and this king's complexion is comparable to the
richest (by the local standards) of all clothing materials:
"Father of Ireola, black as velvet." This might seem exag-
gerated, but one who is conversant with the Yoruba people's
humility to, and respectfulness for their seniors, will not
be hard put to it to recognise the realistic proportions of
such a song.

The Oracle poetry is of a different calibre, being
shrouded with the awe and solemnity of incantation. These
poems, said to be 4696 in number, are a series of reports of
the sayings of the Ifa Oracle, transmitted and interpreted
to the people by the Oracle priest (p. 25). The first four
stanzas of the group recorded by Gbadamosi and Beier show
some of the themes dealt with in such Oracle poetry. The
first stanza sets falsehood and truth against each other,
representing the former as cowardly and the latter as brave:

"Lies travel for twenty years and never arrive/ But truth

says it is better to deliver the truth and die." This is

not the mere preaching of the Oracle, but a rigid moral prin-

ciple which rules the life of the peOple in general, for to

 

 

 

 

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the people, especially the elderly ones, it is a calamity
to tell lies.

Stanza two takes up the theme of creation, and refer—
ence is made to the Biblical story that man is made of clay:
“. . . the mud, the origin of creation." The third stanza
reiterates and amplifies this theme, for Obatala (Creator
God) is shown as having recéived his power to create from
"the great God." The very first line is significant in its
purport: "The sky is immense, but grows no grass." To the
people there is no life in the sky; it is not useful to man
or beaSt, its vastness notwithstanding. That, perhaps, is
the reason why Obatala is given "the reins of the world,"
which he is to populate.

In the fourth stanza the mystic nature of the Oracle
is touched upon, which some initiates cannot understand, for
they "thought that the Ifa nuts were nothing but palm—ker—
nels." The magical power of the Oracle is even reflected by
the beautiful metaphor of the fast flowing river which "puts
its neck under a root and pulls it out."

The "Ijala," Hunters' poetry (p. 31), consists of
diverse kinds of poems. Some are descriptions of the ani—
mals hunted, and others are "about" yam, cassava, women. _
It seems appropriate to discuss some of those dealing with
the hunted game. "Akiti-Baboon" (p. 32) describes the
baboon as "one who kills lice with a black hand," and who

"has eyeballs to seduce women." The Red Monkey (Ijemere) is

 

 

 

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tug," t
"Hired t
fig‘irati
If We”

the 3088

reflects
do only

large man

 

 

13

a "child of maize: Owner of the farmi" It continues "to
steal" even though it is "old enough not to steal." As for
the fowl (Adiye), it is "one who sees corn and is glad," and
has such relations as oil, pepper, and onion. Salt is its
friend: "If it does not see its friend salt even for a day/
It will not sleep peacefully." The wild pig (Tuku) is "the
fat one of the thick bush/The'animal that carries scissors in
its mouth."

Characteristic of this series that constitutes
"Ijala" is the personification of the animals and their
habits, coupled with the rhythmic verve of the vernacular
which shows even through the opaque surface of translation.
Also very remarkable is the almost inevitable functionality
of the metaphors which punctuate the poetry. The metaphor
is indeed the very life-blood of most Nigerian languages.

Most of the poems of the masqueraders recorded by
Gbadamosi and Beier are "about" social criticism and praises
of different Yoruba towns. In the poem "Eye-—It is befit-
ting," there is a list of social anomalies which are satirised:
"Hired trousers and shirts can never fit a man." This is a
figurative way of casting jibes at hypocrisy and affectation.
If everything is as it should be, "only the finger that fits
the nose/Should be used to clean the nose." The poem also
reflects social equipoise, for it recommends that one should
do only that which befits him. The deaf, the blind, or the

lame man, for instance, should not aspire towards kingship,

 

 

14

for it is beyond the pale of what he can be reasonably
expected to attain. In the poem "Famine" (p. 42) is treated
the sharpness of famine which even kills "the king of Omu."
"The Lazy Man" (p. 43) satirises all the indolent people and
points out that he who has "a lazy child has no child"; and
about hunger, it Says that "one who is hungry does not care
for death." He can take any risks in an attempt to find
food. This poem "Hunger" ends with advice for both the rich
and the poor:

Let the one who eats not rejoice,

Let the one who is hungry not give way to grief.

Satisfaction follows hunger.

Hunger follows satisfaction (p. 44).

The funeral song (p. 51) eXpresses a wish to have the
dead rise again. It is written in a tone of utter futility
and dejection brought out clearly by the technique of con-
trast: Olu will rise, Awo will rise, the bride gets up when
commanded, the elephant and buffalo get up when awakened
from sleep, but this dead man, like an elephant that has
fallen, will not rise.

The next group of poems, children's songs, is very
important as a series of poetic expressions in the tradi-
tional life of Nigerian pe0ple. The Yoruba children‘s songs
are varied: riddles, lullabies, songs about natural phenom-
ena, songs that test one's alertness, songs about twins,

mask songs, and songs to the god of children. Repetition

and regularity of rhythm and rhyme are more common in

 

 

 

children

To use ‘c
(p. 54).
braggart,
. \
ing the:
stanza.
cover of
ECOEOIZiC
prefere:

the deci

Metaphor
"Ti insi
5°39 for
19:39:10):
”Tenn
0f the p
white'"

ntIQCSEI
powerful

:Eant f3

110331 p
one “Ote

verbs, S

 

15

children's songs than in other kinds of traditional poetry.
To use but one example,cnmacan look at "Children's Songs"
(p. 54). The Duck is addressed in stanza one. She is a
braggart, who has borne children, but has no back for carry-
ing them. Rain, earth and birds are sung of in the second
stanza. The third stanza poses a serious question under the
cover of light verse. The child needs food and also soap.
Economic decision is even involved here, and the order of
preference is at issue. The child brilliantly comes up with
the decision:

But if I cannot wash my inside
How can I wash my outside?

Metaphorically, to feed--satisfy hunger--is shown as washing
"my inside," which must be done before one thinks of buying
soap for washing "my outside." In the final stanza anxa
metaphors strung up from the second to the fifth line,
repetition and parallelism being used to quicken the tempo
of the piece. Yam is apostrophised here. It is "of pure
white," with "a gown of meat," "a cap of vegetables," and
"trousers of fish." These images point to, and conftmn the
powerful poetic vision exhibited even in a song that is
meant for children.

This study of Yoruba poetry can be looked upon as
a microcosmic study of the entire Nigerian world of tradi-
tional poetic cultures. Tribal peculiarities allowed for,
<Jne notes that such qualities as abundant metaphors, pro-

iverbs, similes (especially sarcastic similes in Ibo areas)

 

speech. '

Xigeria:

Pr:

peers 0.1
by CC‘j

the cr

r“

Clan_9

c5». _
Verges

 

 

16

are common features of other Nigerian languages. The Ibo
man has been represented as having said, for example: "He
who asks me not to use proverbs, asks me not to speak at
all; for proverbs are the salt and oil with which to 'eat'
speech."7 And about the significance of proverbs in
Nigerian languages, Oladele Taiwo has this to say:

Proverbs deal with all aspects of life. They

are used to punctuate the words of the wise and

are the stock-in—trade of old people who use

them to convey precise moral lessons, warnings

and advice--they make a greater impact on the

mind than ordinary words. The judicious use of

proverbs is usually regarded as a sign of wit.

What relationship there exists among the traditional
poems of the different parts of Nigeria can be exemplified
by comparing the Yoruba.poetry .just surveyed with
the traditional poetry of one part of Ibo land——the Ojebe
Clan.9 Before doing so, it may help to summarize the
Gbadamosi-Beier classification of Yoruba poetry: The Oracle

Verses (Odu Ifa), Hunters' Poetry (Ijala), Masqueraders'

Verses (Iwi), Praise Names of gods or chiefs (Oriki),

 

7This is a common saying in the Ibo area of Nigeria;
it is not taken from any book.

8"Oral Traditions in African Literature" (Seminar
Paper, No. 5, Department of Adult Education and Extra-mural
Studies, University of Ibadan, June, 1965), p. 10.

9Ojebe is a clan in Udi Division, Enugu Province, in
Eastern Region of Nigeria. It comprises seven villages
(towns as they are locally called): Ebe, Abor, Ukana, Awhum,
Okpatu, Umulumgbe, and Umuoka.

 

 

l7

Laymen's Poetry (Arofo). In addition there are marriage and

funeral songs, and Poetry for children.

Ojebe Poetry

In the Ojebe clan, there are seven categories of
poetry: Invocatory poetry, "Triumphal" poetry, Incantatory
,Vpoetry,lo Laudatory poetry, Didactic and Satiric poetry,

Lullabies and Private Songs, and Elocutionary poetry.

Invocatory Poetry

 

This consists of the poems sung by Idol—priests,
hunters, and all the elders. The Idols are usually called
Ugwu (Hill), and almost every village has at least one such
Ugwu. In Ebe, for example, there are "Ugwu—Akuma," "Ugwu—
Omelum," "Ugwu—Abazi," and so on. The verses addressed to
"Ugwu-Akuma" run thus:

Ugwu—Akuma, king living in wilderness,
Guide of your people,

Dispenser of justice,

Ugwu the hero that is dreadful,

The hero that is fearless,

Protect your children

From fiends and foes.

This is sung by the priest of this particular Ugwu, and he

uses a special kind of horn, the 'Opi' for doing so. The

 

10The terms "Invocatory" and "Incantatory" have been

used by Oyin Ogunba for classifying Igebu poetry. See "The
Poetic Content of Festivals" (Seminar Paper, No. 6, Depart»
ment of Adult Education and Extra-mural Studies, University
of Ibadan, June, 1965), pp. 3 and 8.

 

 

18

hunters also invoke their god to help them kill a lot of
game:

My god, hail,

I am in your hands

For today's hunt.

The hungry child

Runs to his father for food,

80 I run to you for today's meat.
The Red Sun of the Sky,

Please, please, doo...doo...

And when the hunter kills any animal during the hunt, he
intones jubilantly:

My god, I salute you, O O 0....

I thank you, O O O...

I kneel before you, O O 0...

May the killer kill again, 0 O 0...

Another kind of invocatory poetry is the early morn-
ing prayer that every elder says as soon as he wakes up. It
is, strictly speaking, an invocation, an offertory, and a
petition. The man, after washing his hands and face, takes
up his holy staff (Ofor), and brings kola nuts which are to
be offered and then says (as in the particular case studied):

Nkwo, my fathen come,

Take kola and chew.

Ukwuta that carries his brother,

The kola is come: it is for you.

Amadi and Ezamnoke, you caused

The kola tree to grow and produce

Fruit; come and have the biggest share.

Ezeedu, you the father of all the above and me,
You will come last, for the father eats

Only after his sons have fed: here is

Your own kola.

All the Hills and Valleys in Ojebe,

The kola is come, it is come, it is come

In great abundance: take it and chew.

Protect me and my family--my wife and children.
I wish no man evil,

 

The Ra:
ancesto
Hills a
believe
and the

peeple.

poetry,
themse;
the Oje
502g re
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life 89
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this Dc
30 Str:

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19

But if anyone says I have lived too long,

Let him go before me to see what it is like

In the land of spirits.
The names mentioned in this poem are those of the singer's
ancestors: Nkwo, Ukwuta, Amadi, Ezamnoke, Ezeedu. The
Hills and Valleys are the various Idols which are also
believed to have great influence on the lives of the peOple,

and therefore, have some claim on the votive rites of the

pe0ple.

"Triumphal" Poetry-~Praise of Self

The verse of the masqueraders is one kind of this
poetry. During special festivals the masqueraders sing of
themselves, narrating their activities and experiences. In
the Ojebe clan the only known masquerade is the Odo, whose
song represents the voices of the dead. The Odos are
regarded as very powerful and wise, and as the dead come to
life again. Therefore, they are supposed to know the past,
present and the future. The poetry of the Odos is philo—
sophical, musical and dignified, and often deals with their
marvellous exploits and the idea that their sons must
inherit their heroic blood. This is eXpressed in Ibo as
"Ani-na—efu-Ngwu," that is to say, "The Land that Breeds the
Ngwu Tree." The Ngwu tree is sacred and mystic; it is a
symbol of magic and supernatural power. Another feature of
this poetry is that it often consists of a number of proverbs
so strung together that one not only explains, but reinforces

the other:

 

 

 

20

I live by the Ngwu tree

Near the Nkwo market.

He who hastens to a fight

Knows not his death awaits him there.
Remember, my sons, the day

You called upon me for help,

Remember the wilderness

Where I encountered the foe:

It is for you to say what happened.

You have needed an increase of wealth,

I gave it before you asked.

I knew you had no male issues last year,

Today their cries are heard in your compounds.

When I was alive my name struck fear in my mates,

My deeds shone everywhere.

Now in the land of the dead,

My place is higher still.

My sons, let not the light go out in your time;

When a blind man mistakes a lump of earth for food,

It is his brother that is ashamed, not himself.
The Odo goes on to other matters; but the tone is throughout
that of self praise in a spirit of triumph and exultation.

The Ozo-title poetry is another type of "triumphal"
poetry.ll On the day the 020 takes the title, he sings
aloud, in a mood of heroic pride, a list of names by which
people will henceforth address him. These names are usually
a series of proverbs, rich in imagery and metaphorically
expressed, detailing the feats he performed, the difficulties
he surmounted in his pursuit of the money for carrying out the

costly title—taking ceremonies, and pointing to the various

sources of his entire wealth. At this moment of the title—

 

11020 is a title taken by those who have money enough
for taking it, and who have inherited the right to take it
from their ancestors. The holders of this title are regarded
highly in the society.

 

 

taking,

nificati
become t
relation
tone to

as the f

 

 

21

taking, he will, as a victorious chief, add some names sig—
nificative of the opulence and social dignity which have
become his. In the process, one person, often the female
relation of the man, will be calling on him in a musical
tone to give his names, and in response, he gives such names
as the following:

I am:

The Camel that brings wealth,

The Land that breeds the Ngwu trees,

The Performer in the period of youth,

The Back that carries its brother,

The Tiger that drives away the elephants,

The Height that is fruitful,

Brotherhood that is mystic,

The Cutlass that cuts thick bushes,

The Hoe that is famous,

The Feeder of the soil with yams,

The Charm that crowns with glory,

The Forest that towers highest,

The Flood that can't be impeded,

The Sea that can't be drained.

Each of the names is a metaphor. As the camel
brings wealth home to the owner, so the Ozo brings wealth
home to his people. As the Ngwu trees are very important
ones (see p. 19 above), the land that breeds them is highly
regarded. This man compares himself to this land because by
taking the Ozo—title, he has continued the tradition of his
forefathers; for the land that grows the Ngwu trees never
fails to produce them. Some of the names refer to the man's
sources of wealth. He is "height that is fruitful." This

Ineans that one of the most important of his avenues of income

is the tapping of palm—wine. He has to climb to a great

 

 

height
Fania:
the n8;
is fan
is now
grow. i
is so v

mensi

goes by
has orl
Way of
would 0
inquire
Can rec.
Part an

tip of

The Ver-
flEver &

Powel- 5

 

t
~he p0»,

 

22

height to get the palm—wine, which he sells for money.
Farming is another source of his wealth. This is shown by
the names: "Cutlass that cuts thick bushes," "The Hoe that
is famous," "The Feeder of the soil with yams." His status
is now such that he is comparable to a "Forest" that has
grown higher than the surrounding bushes, the "Flood" which
is so voluminous that its flow cannot be stopped, and to the
immensity of a sea which cannot be emptied of its water.
Ever after the time of the title—taking, the man
goes by those names. Anyone desiring to hear some of them
has only to ask the Ozo, "Your own, Ozo?" This is the cult
way of saying, "How are you called, Ozo?" In response, he
would often begin with "I am," and then give as many as the
inquirer is patient enough to hear, or as many as the Ozo
can remember at the time. However, the names are so much
part and parcel of his life that he always has them at the

tip of his tongue.

Incantatory Poetry

The fortune-tellers' verse is a kind of incantation.
The verse begins in the form of a soliloquy full of questions
never answered. Then the fortune—teller reflects on his
power and that of his ancestors in this profession, and
prays the gods and spirits of his forefathers to give him

the power of vision which he needs. The poetry reads thus:

 

23

What will it be today?

Success or failure?

Death or life?

Ha: the flood cannot run up the hill.

What is this evil spirit that throws his shade

Between me and the truth?

I hold my sacred staff against it.

Here is the east, there is the west;

Here the sun rises—-

See the truth come riding on the rays of the sun.

The Sky and the Earth keep me company,

And can my tongue go zig-zag? (i.e., Can I tell lies?)

The grey hair is an enemy of lies.

Come, the spirits of my forefathers,

Stand by your son.

Let us show this client of ours what we can do

We have been known for this power:

If one cuts the Ngwu tree by noon,

It mocks him with a new shoot before the sun falls
(i.e., before sunset).

Speak, speak to your son.

Show the way—-

There, there, it comes, the truth comes.

At this point he has seen what he is looking for. He then
addresses the client, and after asking him a few questions,
tells him the solution to his problem by prognosticating

future events.

Laudatory Poetrye—Praise of Others

This group parallels what Gbadamosi and Beier call
"Praise Names"; but while in the case of Yoruba poetry these
names are mainly addressed to the gods and the chiefs, in
Ojebe clan, they are addressed to the chiefs and any other
persons who do something remarkable. Here such names have
become so much vmere - social phenomena that one does not
need to do any heroic action before he earns them. For

instance, a boy or a girl that is hairy may be known and

 

 

addresse
of lauds
tive, a
th prai
areas, t

denunc ia

Ed so c
hiTself
(195C! ipt

at the 1
this Cas
his Cult
“Casio.“
ings of

praise C

are 0the
sic-e ti”
their m
also “5:

Elders,

 

 

 

24

addressed as "Hair is the spice of beauty." This is one kind
of laudatory poetry in the Ojebe Clan. It is also attribu—
tive, and a man or woman can have as many as the number of
the praise-worthy qualities he or she has allows. In some
areas, the reverse of this poetry becomes condemnatory and
denunciatory. A man can be known as:

The lizard that spoils his mother's funeral,
Head is bigger than body,

and so on. The first name means that the man cannot help
himself when others are willing to help him. The second is
descriptive. He has a head that is out of proportion to his
body; so it is said to be bigger than his body.
The most popular of the laudatory poems are heard

at the funeral ceremony of a deceased Ozo—title—holder. In
this case, the daughters and sons of the dead man rehearse
his cult names, and add flourishes of their own to suit the
occasion. As special drums are beaten, and amid the boom-
ings of gun-shots, one hears these daughters and sons say in
praise of their deceased father:

You are:

King who is a tiger,

King that guards the town,

The hand that breaks the hill,

Wealth that imbues with wisdom,
and other titles that the man has been known by. At the
same time the peers of the deceased sing his praises using
their musical horns (Opi). Incidentally, these horns are
also used to summon the people, especially the 0205 and the

elders, to a gathering of the clan or the village.

-.e-L— -

 

 

lar. Or.
them to

the prai.
after the

m:

 

 

25

Praises sung during community labour are also popu-
lar. One man usually stands by the workers and inspires
them to action by singing out their praise names. He knows
the praise names of all of them, and addresses them one
after the other. This is one of such songs addressed to one
man:

You have wedded your hoe to the soil,

You uproot trees with bare hands,

You are the hero who does not care

That to fight is to die,

The sun and the rain are the same

To you when the soil must be tilled,

Yours are the hands that harrow the soil:

The time is come again here and now,

Show us now if you are still the man

That you have ever been.
At this point, the man addressed will shout out passion—
ately in answer to the singer, brandish his hoe for some
time, and then demonstrate with the hoe that he is still as

strong in tilling the land as he has always been known to be.

Didactic and Satirical Poetry

This kind of poetry is calculated to satirize
social mischiefs. In the village of Ebe, for example, there
was the "Iyo" singing group, now replaced by the "Omaja"
group. Their objective is the same, which is to teach good
manners by exposing the offenders in matters of social and
ethical codes. The victims of this criticism include the
young men who beat or insult their parents, married women
who are unkind and unfaithful, spinsters who through their

misdemeanour and general irresponsibility fail to get

 

 

:arried
(a real

titled I

pithy, :

This so:
:fiet 0th
the imp‘

di‘ger

t1757.16 Of
like to i
to be Col
15 not i1
Woman PT:
1’63), km
to mike

Ea:-

 

26

married and are thus living to die in their fathers' homes
(a real blot on the escutcheon of such fathers), and the Ozo-
titled men who eat cassava (something strictly forbidden by
the cult of the Ozo group). Such songs are often full of
pithy, sarcastic, yet humorous sayings, and in the clan,
their effects in redeeming evil, and instilling moral and
ethical consciousness into the people, have been wonderful.
The following two songs are collected from the village of
Abor.

Woman you enter other men's rooms,

By night and by noon,

You must remember What our people say:

A thing that is sweet can kill the eater;

So retrace your footsteps

Or meet your doom.
This song satirizes the woman who, though married, goes to
meet other men. It is a warning to her, reminding her of
the implications of her action, and the probability of
danger.

Another song from the same village deals with the
theme of unkindness on the part of a woman, who does not
like to give food to other people. The woman is supposed
to be cooking, and there is someone present, who, though he
is not invited, would wish to be asked to the table. The
woman purposely leaves the cooking pot on the fire for a
very long time, even though the food has been done, and this
to make the man feel tired of waiting and so leave. But the

man is quite ready to wait for as long as the pot is kept on

 

 

the fix
the wai

inc wor

:ate PIE
abCl'tion
drazk 31
lists, a}
In the e:

Address:

 

 

 

 

27

the fire. The singing group takes up the idea floating in
the waiting man's mind and satirizes the woman in the follow-
ing words:

.Woman though you cook without ending_

And leave your pot on fire till evening,

Though you let the food burn into charcoal

That is as black as the coal

Mined at Enugu,

The waiting man stays without going,

Stays even unto midnight without sleeping.

A third satirical song is from Awhum, where the sing-
ing group consists of girls, and it concerns an illegiti-
mate pregnancy. The girl being satirized tried to effect
abortion, but could not succeed. It was reported that she
drank all sorts of concoctions prepared by the local herba-
lists, and ran long distances so as to dislodge the foetus.
In the end she was doomed to carrying her shame about.
Addressing her, the girls sang:

You may drink the root-juice

From today till tomorrow; 12

Go to the dibias young and old,

Collect from them the herbs of the bush

And make a meal of these day and night,

Run up the hill, run down the hill:
The foetus still sticks fast, very fast.

Lullabies and Private Songs

 

Under this heading are included the songs of the
babysitters, the morning songs of a girl sweeping her

father's compound, the meditative and lyrical pieces sung by

 

12Dibia is the Ibo word for a herbalist.

 

 

women
atd th
they bi
Terora1

carces

 

 

 

Black

 

28

women as they Spin threads, thresh beans or peel cassava,
and the historical narrative verses often sung by men as
they build fences, or train the vines in their farms, com-
memorating their own, or their forefathers' heroic perfor-
mances in the past. The lullabies are more common than
private songs among the people. A girl taking care of a
baby sings such a song as the following, especially when
the baby becomes restless and is crying:

Mother is gone to Egede market,l3

Mother is there to buy you a hen,

The hen will be as white as chalk,

Stop crying and look at your hen,

The fox has come to eat your hen,

Stop crying and let's drive the fox away.
Generally the lullabies are not very profound semantically,

but they are musical and produce magical effects on the

babies. That is all they are meant to do.

Elocutionagy Poetry

 

Some poems are meant to exercise the peOple in
speaking fluently and remembering the sequence of facts
without halting on the way, and to give them general pleasure.
Such poems are usually recited in one unbroken breath:

Give me pear pear for parrot
Give me parrot parrot for money
Give me money money for land
Give me land land for farming

Give me farming farming is wealth 14
Give me wealth wealth makes enemies.

 

13Egede is a neighbouring village to the Ojebe Clan.

14Cf. Osadebay's "0 Lamb Give My Salt" in Poems from

Black Africa, ed. Langston Hughes (Bloomington, 1963), p. 25.

 

 

 

 

 

29

In this kind of poetry, it is not so much the sense
as the sound that counts. The rhythm is regular; the last
word of a line is sung twice at the middle of the next line,
and the initial phrase "Give me" runs through the lines, so
that the whole song sweeps rapidly from the beginning to the
end, where the last line wittily clinches the entire piece:
". . . wealth makes enemies."

In another poem of this group, the whole movement
depends on the word "crooked" which appears in all the lines.
Like the preceding song, it moves Very fast, and should be
read rapidly:

I entered a crooked bush

And cut a crooked stick

For staking a crooked yam

To be harvested by a crooked man
with a crooked digger,

And given to a crooked woman

To cook with a crooked pot

For celebrating a crooked feast.

All these poems from the Ojebe Clan are handed down
orally from generation to generation. They are not recorded;
but the old men in the villages are reliable repositories for

most of them, and they are very willing to give an inquirer

as many as they know.

 

 

 

 

30

Comparison with Yoruba Poetry

 

Comparing Yoruba poetry and Ojebe poetry, one
notices many similarities. There are a few differences,
however. The Yoruba Praise Names have Ojebe laudatory
poetry as their counterpart. The difference lies in the
extent of the application of those names. The nearest
parallel to Yoruba Oracle poetry is Ojebe Invocatory poetry
or Incantation. The incantation of the fortune-teller,
especially resembles an Oracle poem. As for the hunters”
poetry, it chiefly deals with the animals hunted in Yoruba,
While it is invocatory in Ojebe. In the same way there is
the masqueraders' poetry in both areas, but whereas it is
satirical in Yoruba, it is a type of incantation or a heroic
song in Ojebe. The funeral songs eXpress sorrow in the
former locale, but in the latter, they praise the dead.
Lullabies and some elocutionary poems in Ojebe are similar
to children's songs in Yoruba. The chief difference may be
that in Ojebe both children and adults make use of the elocu—
tionary poems, and some lullabies are not relegated to chil-
dren alone.

Generally, the similarities among the poems from
these two areas are very striking, especially with respect
to content and techniques. One exception may be noted. The
Ozo—title poetry has no equivalent in Yoruba. There are

also differences in the purpose and context of the poems.

 

4—”,

..e.

 

 

is for
siiil ,

in boti

rich a;

excelle

acteris

trends

 

31

As for techniques, repetition, parallelism, metaphor and
simile, personification, and proverb are remarkably abundant

in both cases.

Akan Poetry15

In Ghana (West Africa), traditional poetry is as
rich and diversified as in Nigeria. Kwabena Nketia has done
excellent work in studying, translating and classifying this
poetry, indicating its cultural meaning and significance to
the people, together with its aesthetic and visionary char-
acteristics.16 In his study, Mr. Nketia deals with the four
trends of development of the traditional poetry of the Akan
peoples of Ghana.

Under Oral Poetry, there are poems of praise recited
by special minstrels, and the praise is chiefly of chiefs,
something resembling the Yoruba praise names and the lauda-
tory poetry of the Ojebe Clan, except that the Yoruba poetry
praises the gods in addition. In an Akan praise poem, the
paramount chief is described thus: "He is bullet proof:
when you fire at him, you waste your ammunition." According
to Nketia, the praise poem may be in the form of a dialogue

between the minstrel and the chief who is being praised.

 

15Akan is a section of Ghana comprising the Ashanti,
Fanti, Akim, Kwahu, Akwapim, Asen, etc.

l6"Akan Poetry,“ Black Orpheus, No. 3 (May 1958), 5.

 

 

"A...

‘AIM- 4 l(

trated

 

32

The Recitative tradition is a composite of dirges

and hunters' poems, with this common characteristic that

they are "half spoken and half sung. . . ."17 The usual

themes of the dirges are the ancestor, the deceased, any
individual, or a living place. The ancestor theme is illus—
trated by the following poem:

Grandsire Opon Sasraku.

I ask you to help me in clearing the forest to
make a farm.

Then I ask you to help me in felling the trees
on the farm.

Then I ask you to help me in making mounds for
the yam seeds.

But for harvesting the yams, I do not need your

help,
Your subjects, male and female alike, are
terrible suckers. . . .

As is the case with Nigerian traditional poetry, here are
also the tricks of repetition and parallelism in the tradi—
tional poetry of the Akan peoples.

The other kind of recitative poetry, the hunters'
verse, is like the hunters' poetry in Nigeria, sung or spoken
during the hunting process, but the Akan peoples have added
another use to theirs, which is, singing it when a famous
hunter dies.

The bulk of Akan traditional poetry belongs to the
Lyric group, and Nketia defines this lyric tradition as ”the

18

use of the song as a vehicle for poetry." Making up this

 

17Ibid., p. 13..

18Ibid., p. 15.

 

 

 

lei-’5 he

ket of

 

 

 

 

33

cluster are songs of prayers, usually sung for the king;
cradle songs (parallel to Ojebe lullabies), songs used as
interludes or terminals in folk tales, maiden songs addressed
to their lovers or fond relations by ladies; and warrior
songs.19 These cradle songs, usually sung by mothers, are
something more than the lullabies calculated merely to pat
crying babies to sleep. Among the Akan peoples, the mother
uses the cradle song for lampooning her husband, venting her
ire against him, expressing her triumph over the other wives
she thinks are jealous of her, and for resigning herself to
the will of God who, though He has seen that she is poor and
lays her baby "on a torn mat" instead of ”on the camel blan-
ket of the rich," still has sent the child to her:

Little child, come for a feed.

If you divorce me, you cannot take away my child.
('You' refers to the husband.)

0 O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O 0

Someone would like to have you for her child
But you are my own. . . .
('Someone' refers to another wife of the same man.)

Horns and drums are used to produce music among the
Akan peoples, and this music constitutes their fourth poetic
tradition. Nketia defines 'Horns' as "musical horns made

20

out of the tusks of elephants." In the Ojebe Clan (Nigeria),

 

19Oladele Taiwo makes a similar point in his Seminar

Paper, No. 5, p. 4: "Most of the time the narration is
accompanied by dramatic and musical performances. . . . The
listeners also participate in the performance, singing
choruses, beating drums and playing other instruments to
heighten the effect of the story."

20Kwabena Nketia, "Akan Poetry," Black Orpheus, No. 3,
p. 13, footnote 1.

 

..

 

the 02

the sa
Akans
kinds-
As for
as WEE
God,"
11d 5’.
d2: 1

that c

 

34

the Ozo—titled men and the Idol-priests use such horns in
the same way as do the paramount chiefs of Akan. Among the
Akans the horns can be used to produce poetry of diverse
kinds—-praises of the chiefs or the ancestors, lyric poetry.

As for the drums, they are used for "panegyrics or eulogies,"

as when "Osee Asibe, the noble ruler," "Child of the Ancient
God," "the brave man," "the valiant man that fights with gun
21

and sword," is praised by the drummers. There is also the
drum poetry associated with the announcement of the fact
that on a certain occasion the chief is drinking gin or palm-

wine:

Chief they are bringing it.

Chief you are about to drink imported liquor.
And also:

Chief they are bringing you cool and refreshing drink.
They are bringing you palm wine.

Last in this group are the proverbs produced by drum-
ming. Drum proverbs seem to be very important in the tradi-
tional poetry of the Akans. Nketia has a whole article on
the drum poetry of the Akans. Here he gives four distinct
kinds of the poetry of drums: the prelude (called
Anyaneanyane--"the Awakening"); personal poetry and praises

in Which historical allusions are made; announcements and

 

211bid., p. 24.

221bid.. p. 25.

 

 

greeti

war, 0

finall

How,
137%
Stand

write

Caner
Enry

 

35

greetings (announcements of deaths of chiefs, outbreak of
war, or fire, or loss of some person in the forest); and
finally the drum proverbs.23

Proverbs, it seems to this writer, have as much sig—
nificance for the Akan peoples as being the very marrow of
the local languages, as they have for Nigerians. However,
the examples given by Nketia of these proverbs are not quite
clear to this author, as they seem to contain more elements
of the riddle than the pithy,epigrammatic characteristics
for which proverbs are known. The first six lines of the
examples he gives are quoted as follows:

Rustling noise by the way side

Means what creature?

The wood-pigeon, the wood—pigeon.

Wood-pigeon,Seniampon,

He goes along the path eating grains of millet.

Condolences, wood-pigeon.
The first two lines read, it seems, like what the Ibo people

would regard as riddle:

What are the two brothers that never see each other?
Answer: Two palm—kernels in one shell.

However, since this author does not speak or understand the
languages of the Akan peoples, he cannot claim a full under-
standing of their linguistic operations. Moreover, as Nketia

writes:

 

23"Poetry of Drums," in Voices of Ghana: Literary
Contributions to the Ghana Broadcasting System 1955-57, ed.
Henry Swanzy (Accra, Ghana, 1958), pp. 17-18.

 

 

”A.

ec:

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V
‘1.

Vs a: Li.

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“A

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poet:

poet:

poet]

Peep}

rathe

 

36

Many of the texts cannot be fully understood
except by reference to our culture——our way
of life, and our accumulated experience of
nature and society, our system of values.
Moreover, it is important to keep in mind the
actual contexts of situation in which partic-
ular texts are used, because style, form,
subject matter and meaning are also governed
by these, for it is such contexts that call
for the use of appropriate verbal pieces pro—
viding entertainment, reflections or commen—
taries on situations or pieces that may incite
men to action or to a definite line of action,
pieces that may be used for condoling, abusing,
praising.

This can be generally said of the poetry of the
Yorubas and the Ojebe people. Time and place determine what
poetry should be spoken or sung by whom at any given moment
in the lives of people. One may, however, note an outstand-
ing difference between Akan poetry and Yoruba or Ojebe
poetry. While the Akan people place greatest emphasis on
their chiefs and paramount chiefs as subjects for laudatory
poetry, Yoruba people emphasise their gods and their ances-
tors, and Ojebe people have praises even for the ordinary
people among them. Yet the difference is not of kind but

rather of degree.

 

24Black Orpheus, No. 3, p. 26.

. a
.1

 

 

37

Ewe Poetry

 

Ewe poetry shows something of more philosophical
depth and less ritualistic and mystical associations than
the other kinds of traditional poetry already dealt with in
this work. This poetry, being more a result of discontent
with life in an environment that is boring and almost
stagnant, than of jubilation and gorgeous traditional cere-
monials, is rather calculatingly personal than spontaneously
traditional. Geormbeeyi Adali-Mortti stresses this note of
sadness in Ewe poetry. It is generally "a study in sweet
sorrow," and in "moaning," behind which "lies stoical

25 This is especially true of the

strength and fortitude."
first kind of poetry discussed by Adali-Mortti--poetry for
maintaining "good humour and optimism in the face of hard—
ship."
One such poem deals with a man who has lost all his

relations by death:

Last remaining, last to go:

A border mark I stand.

Were I a boundary post

On the farm's edge,

I'd heave myself
Aside and free me.

 

25"Ewe Poetry," Black Orpheus, No. 4 (October 1958),
37. Other references to poems in this article will be shown
in the body of the work in parentheses.

 

 

 

 

This
and 1
we r:
liViJ
appr,
II
Supt
3858‘

feel:

 

38

What can't be cured, must be endured.
Some folk unwisely fret

Under ills they can't prevent.

You Who mock my loss of kin,

Know you the will of fate? (Pp. 37-38.)

The other kind of poetry which Adali-Mortti empha-
sises is the funeral song. This, like the first kind, is
still lamenting poetry. One example is recorded which deals
with a man bemoaning the death of his mother:

Mother dear!

Mother, who freely gives of what she has:

fresh food and cooked meals alike.

Mother, who never deserts the hearth.

Mother, hearken to me!

The crying child will call after its mother.

How is it that mother does not answer me when

I call-—

Are we quarrelling? (Pa 42.)

This poem seems more spontaneous than the one preceding it,
and every line of it is heaving with tears, so to say. When
we remember that these lines, which appear addressed to a
living person, are in reality put to the corpse, we fully
appreciate not only the poetic craftsmanship employed—-the
"superb touch of a skill composer"2é-but also the desolate-
ness, the disillusionment, and the complicated and agonised
feelings of the protagonist.

More aspects of Ewe poetry are given by Israel Kafu

Hoh, and these include the children's lullabies and play

songs, hymns and vernacular music composed for schools, and

 

26Ibid., p. 45.

 

 

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forge
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PrOta
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Very

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39

27 In addition to this, he tells who the Ewes

comic poems.
themselves are in the following words:

The Ewes are a people living east of the River

Volta, with a language linked more closely to

Dahomey and Yoruba than to the Akans. They

have two main centres—-the long coastal spit,

sometimes not more than a hundred yards wide,

that runs for over forty miles from Aflao to

the Volta, past Keta, Anloga, and a dozen other

villages and towns. The other centre (in Ghana)

is in the mountains of Togoland round Ho and

Hohoe, spreading into the lowlands of Kpandu.

The larger part of this vigorous people lie,

of course2 over the frontier, in French

Togoland. 8
One wonders, and rightly so, why Ewe poetry does not resemble
Yoruba poetry, since there is such a linguistic linkage.

A comparison between Ewe poetry and the vernacular
poetry of the other areas we have surveyed shows that the
former is chiefly concerned about life here and now, its
bitterness and roughness, its miseries and losses. The
protagonist is forever enduring, for he never remedies, and
cannot remedy, his woeful lot. He is typically and, in a
very physical sense, totally isolated. This is one side of
the sad story of the modern man, who is not only isolated
physically, but also morally, psychologically, and spiritu-
ally. The vernacular poetry of the other West African

English-speaking areas is concerned with life in a more

complete sense: its sufferings and tragedies, its comedies,

 

27“Ewe Poetry," Voices of Ghana, pp. 86-93-

281bid., p. 86.

 

 

4O

joys and laughters; and this poetry also peers into the
future, the hereafter, and into the realms of the gods and

their influences on human life, favourable and otherwise.

I ebu Poetr 29

Oyin Ogunba deals with the traditional poetry of
Ijebu in a slightly different way from that of critics we
have seen before in this study. He emphasises the poetry
expressed in different festivals of African communities,
such as the Ogun festival, the festivals of the local deities,
the festival of the Goddess of the sea and Water spirits,
purification festivals, and the festivals of the ancestors.
In a specific study of "the poetic content" of these festi-
vals in Ijebu, he classifies the poetry into "invocatory,"

30 Generally, the poems that

"incantatory,” and "social."
come under the invocatory group are like the "Oriki" of the
gods or chiefs or ancestors, which has been noted in connex—
ion with Yoruba poetry; and they are also like the invocatory
poetry of the Ojebe people. But this resemblance is only in
spirit, mood and purpose. For there are variations from

locality to locality. Furthermore, what Ogunba calls "social

poetry" does not differ in any significant way from its

 

29Ijebu is a clan within the Yoruba tribe in Western

Nigeria.

30"The Poetic Content of Festivals“ (Seminar Paper,
No. 6, Department of Adult Education and Extra-mural Studies,
University of Ibadan, 1965).

 

 

 

41

counterpart in the Yoruba, Ojebe, and Akan areas, except
that it adds something over and above the content of that of
the other places, which will be pointed out later.

The "incantatory" poetry parallels the poetry of
incantation among Ojebe people. But there are marked differ-
ences in content and situation, and in fact, Ogunba's exam-
ples resemble those noted under invocatory poetry in the
Ojebe clan. "Incantatory” poetry, he tells us, is asso-
ciated with offering sacrifice, and he exemplifies it with
a poem addressed to Ogun (Yoruba God of Iron):

Take Ogun:

A child sucks its left hand girst

Before the right hand. . . .
Here Ogun is offered roasted yam. When he is next offered
"erun" (yam dipped in oil), we hear

The hand that makes palm-oil keeps dripping

This is your "erun," Ogun . 32

For material success, for healthy children.
The first three lines explain analogically the fact that
Ogun is fed step by step, so that he may hearken to the
supplication of the people, which is mentioned in the second
three lines: "material success" and "healthy children.”

Ogunba points out the enriching significance of the metaphor-

ical and symbolical use of "palm-oil" in the poem.

 

31Ibid., p. 9.

321bid.

r—i

 

 

 

’r:
P!

 

42

Two examples of social poetry are given among others,
which seem to serve as a transition from the purely tradi—
tional poetry of the English—speaking West Africa to colonial
and modern poetry: the satire poem on Samson the new convert,
and the poem about political—party conflicts. In the former,
Samson is satirised for his "smugness" and “priggishness,‘l by
those who have been in the Christian faith before him and are
more experienced:

We ate it together

Samson do not be offended 33

We ate the Oro loaf together.
Samson must have been worried for having eaten the "Oro
loaf”-—Oro is a local cult-—and satirically his friends show
him there is nothing wrong in so doing.

The political theme is dealt with in a poem which
shows the desire of the supporters of "The Cock” and "The
Palm Tree" parties to kill off the members of the hated
party, "Hand":

If I get the sword
I shall cut them to pieces.

34
These two themes—-religious and political con—
flicts--constitute the chief differences between Ijebu

poetry and that of the other areas in West Africa. Also

they (especially the theme of religious conflict) directly

 

33Ibid., p. 12.

34Ibid., p. 13.

 

 

43

anticipate one of the major thematic concerns of the modern

West African poets writing in English.

"Independence" (By Adebayo Faleti)

 

A note of variation in theme, not in technique,
is sounded in "Independence," written in Yoruba by Adebayo
Faleti and rendered into English by Gbadamosi and Beier.35
This pathetic poem of sixty—four lines goes in a sermon-like
way, with two analogous exempla, to show the triumphant joy
that marks all kinds of emancipation. It may be a slave
freed from his owner, or an elephant that steps from the
lowly station of a man's beast for menial jobs to the rank
of the "head of animals," or it can even be a nation that
has shaken off the yoke of foreign rule.

The poem begins by stating a general dictum: ”There
is nothing as sweet as independence," and proceeds deduc-
tively to prove the veracity of the statement. The next
twenty-two lines following the opening one present the slave
in his state of freedom. He is no longer ordered about;
when he farms, he farms for himself and owns his crops. He
will "no longer waste his old age serving others," and for
this total liberty he "will rejoice, rejoice, rejoice." In

the next ten lines, the typical indigenous Nigerian tech—

nique of speech-—piling up proverbs for emphasis and for

 

35Black Orpheus, No. 8 (n.d.), 4—5.

 

 

 

44

oratorical effect—-is used to show what an awful ordeal the
slave underwent:

The one whose life has never been pawned

Does not know the hardship of work before dawn.

A person who has never been a slave

Does not know the hardship of the stable boy.
The section closes with a line that is repeated almost
verbatim at the end of the following seven lines: "The eyes
of the slave have seen many things."

This third section still stresses, by the technique
of contrast, the perversion of human worth and dignity that
is involved in slavery of all kinds. The slave is compared
with the master from the point of view of physical qualities,
and although the slave may be "as tall as the Ogun tree in
the king's market," and the master "burnt out like an old
stick," yet the slave is "as small as a dwarf terrier"
before him. The similes used for describing the slave and
the master do not leave us in any doubt as to where the
poet's sympathy lies.

The fourth section, the story of the elephant, is an
exemplum. This device is quite common in Nigeria. In Ibo
land, for instance, the elders can take a decision about a
certain case by using analogies, proverbs and metaphorical
statements, to such an extent that the young and inexperi-
enced people among them leave without definitely knowing how

the case has been decided. Such a situation is portrayed in

a common Ibo proverb:

 

l;

a.

 

 

45

You speak to the sage and he catches;
You speak to the fool and he fools away.

In this poem then the story of the elephant is meant to
emphasiSe not only the opening statement of fact, but also
the slave-episode. It points out one quality—-patience—-
upon which the poet is going to hang the moralising last sec-
tion of the poem:

Let us learn wisdom from the elephant,
Let us shake off our suffering with patience.

This section is really the destination of the poet.
The whole poem is a series of case-studies. We have moved
from the slave—scene, through the elephant—scene, and now
arrived at "home.” We see that the poet has not been merely
delighting us with tales; these are not an end in themselves,
but a means to an end. The end is to remind us that

. . . we have land, and we have hoes.
We have cocoa trees and we have bananas,

and other things to fall back upon when we are released from
our masters. Then the exhortation:
Let us fight, so that we may cultivate our own farm.
To escape from being slaves and pawns.
Let all our people be free.

In theme and spirit, this poem anticipates modern
poetry from Western Africa. The theme is emancipation from
bondage; bondage implies conflict; and conflict is one major
theme handled in varying degrees and in various ways by the
modern West African poets writing in English. But in tech—

nique—-language, versification, parallelism, and in being

 

 

 

46

,rather-pedestrain in metrical structure, it remains in the

realm of.the undeveloped vernacular poetry.
Conclusion

Thus the thinking of Adali-Mortti is well founded,
that the West African traditional poetry in general could
form a good basis on which "modern creative writing can be
built, if it is to be distinctly original and West African."36
He does not say, however, whether this modern writing "can"
take its rise from the traditional poems with respect to
theme, spirit, form, or technical matters, or all of these
together. As has been remarked earlier, modern West African
poetry owes something to the vernacular poetry with regard
to themes and imagery, but not the technique and mechanics
of versification, for there is in these latter matters a
sharp distinction between modern poetry in general (and
modern West African poetry in particular) and our vernacular
poetry.

Like Adali-Mortti, Israel Kafu Hoh is of the opinion
that modern African poets should endeavour to develop their
traditional poetry:

. . . Heaven forbid that we look with contempt
on the only record of the thoughts and feelings

of our forefathers as they are shown in gur
poems, and refrain from emulating them.3

 

36Black'Orpheus, No. 4, p. 45.

37Voices of Ghana, p. 93.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER II

WEST AFRICAN COLONIAL POETRY IN ENGLISH (1950—1960)
. . . patient faces on weather-beaten bodies
Bowing under heavy market loads.

(David Nicol, "The Continent That Lies Within Us")

General Statements

 

In English—speaking West African countries, writing
poetry in English started when these countries were still
under the colonial rule. Unlike the poetry translated from
one or more of the vernaculars, West African colonial poetry
was influenced by English and American poetry. It could not
be explosively radical; though it expressed deep concern
over, and discontent with life as it was lived then in those
countries.

Sorrow and wistful yearning are among the chief fea—
tures of West African colonial poetry, but there is also a
general tendency towards optimism, and faith in life in the
end. Mostly, this poetry is the cry of the African in quest
of freedom from imperialism, and nostalgic for his home
country if he had been staying in Britain. But at times,

this trend is varied by a serious and concerned look into

47

 

 

48

the abyss of one's own self in an attempt to reach the mean-
ing of existence. Some of the poetry also praises the
fatherland.

In general, West African colonial poetry is not
poetry in the true sense of the word. However, it is neces—
sary to see what it is like because of the theme of culture-
conflict which may be called its chief influence on modern
West African poetry, and because historically, it is part of
the background of modern West African poetry.

A prominent feature of West African colonial poetry
is the conflict between the indigenous and foreign cultures:

The West African poet writing in a European

language finds himself in a difficult position.

He is almost bound to be a nationalist and more

often than not he is actively engaged in the

fight for self-government. His poetry is natu-

rally concerned partly with a criticism and

rejection of European values--and yet he has to

use a EuroEean language to express this same

rejection.
This remark, which was made about West African poets in
general including those writing in French, was a little
later pursued with another: "It is of course easy to under-
stand that west African poetry is often a poetry of protest."2

To most of the poems of this period, Janheinz Jahn's comment

on African poetry in general can well apply: "In African

 

lUlli Beier, "The Conflict of Cultures in West
African Poetry," Black Orpheus, No. 1 (September 1957), 17.

21bid., p. 19.

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49

poetry one seldom meets abstract conceptions. There is no
need to explain the image: the audience has the power of
double vision."3 However, more can be learned about this
poetry by examining the poems themselves. The first to be

examined will be a Sierra Leonian poet of vigour and fame.
Davidson (Abioseh) Nicol

Davidson Nicol (also known as Abioseh Nicol) in
"The Continent That Lies Within Us" moves from the musing of
an African in Britain suffering from that loneliness every
exile knows too well, through his desperate desire to return
to his fatherland, to the finding of contentment in Africa
with all its signs of undevelopment.4 In the mind of the
poet, who was then one of "your lonely sons in alien shores"
hangs the "shimmering image" of his fatherland. He is tired
of everything in his foreign environment: ”Sausages and
mast," "grim-faced, black—coated men," ”City typists,"
“queuing up for cheap lamb chops,/ At two for one—and-three."
He then remembers the insulting remarks of the foreigners to
the effect that the hinterland of his country is very primi-

tive:

 

3"World Congress of Black Writers," Black Orpheus,
No. l, p. 41.

4Olumbe Bassir, ed. An Anthology of West African
Verse (Ibadan, Nigeria, 1957). pp. 63-66. This same poem is
also anthologised under the title "The Meaning of Africa,"
and greatly changed in layout and diction, punctuation, and
typography, but retaining essentially the same "meaning" in
Poems from Black Africa, ed. Langston Hughes (Bloomington,
1963), pp. 40-43.

 

 

 

50

Go for bush, inside the bush,
There you'll find your hidden heart,
Your mute ancestral spirit.

As he goes on his way he is "hopeful.“ The picture
of the villages depicts the "uneven red road, huddled heaps
of four mud walls/ And thatched falling grass—roofs," and
the weary natives carrying very heavy loads on their heads.
Even the "squawking chickens" and "pregnant she-goats“
express "fear" as they "Lumber awkwardly . . . across the
road," but the motto on the "overladen lorry" shows great
trust in God: "The Lord is my Shepherd.” And the last
stanza resounds with this note of hope, trust, contentment
and relief. Only the Africans themselves can find this
happiness in Africa. The poet himself reaches a resounding
affirmation:

I know now that is what you are, Africa,
Happiness, contentment and fulfillment.

The same writer later handles a different theme--
a theme which is the core of the work of some modern West
African poets--religious conflict. In "African Easter"6
Nicol demonstrates the different attitudes to Christianity
in colonial Africa. The ironic first section, which is a

kind of dramatic "planting" for the rationalistic third

 

5These lines are quoted by Hughes for a different
purpose in An African Treasury (New York, 1960), p. xii.

 

6Langston Hughes. ed. Poems From Black Africa,
pp. 35—40.

I
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.

 

 

 

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51

section, points out the offences and infidelity of the
converts:

I am not your God
If you have not denied me once, twice,

with the obvious allusion to the denial of Christ by St.
Peter; and in stanza two we hear

For what then am I worth to you
If you were always sinless.

Though these words are given to Christ by Nicol, there is
the implication that this is the kind of View that the luke—
warm Christians do hold; for such doubting followers would
often cite the scriptures; the devil, it having been said,
quoting the Bible for his purpose. But in this clash of
good with evil, good becomes more.reassuring:

Over your face and fevered brow, my torn fingers

Will stray bringing such comfort

As may claim your doubting heart.

After the interlude supplied by section II, ”Easter

Eve" (to which we will return), the argumentative, sceptical
intellectual steps on to the stage, section I having pre-
pared us for his entry. Though the Easter morning bell is
ringing, and sleep has left his eyes with unusual willing—
ness, still for him "the great rock remains unrolled." He
is a Christian only in a haphazard sense, for he is deeply
lodged at a crossroads. His dual allegiance is to God as

well as to his "ancestral spirits." He resembles the laconic

 

52

Mr. Ikenga in Onuora Nzekwu's Blade Amongfthe Boys.7 And

 

quickly anticipating Awoonor—Williams' protagonist,8 this
intellectual bursts out, addressing his ancestral spirits:
I have turned away from you
To One who stands
Watching His dying dispossessed Son
Shouting in Aramaic agony.

He becomes capricious: he is "a good Churchman";
yet he sets about ridiculing the Christian religion. He
would accept the "chalice” from the priest at Holy Communion,
but would make sure "that he wipes the wet rim/Not to spread
dental germs." The tenth of his goods he, like the Pharisee,9
gives "to the poor,” but it is given "through income tax."
From this point on, the intellectual waxes stronger in blas—
phemy till he denies Christ's death:

You were not dead.
It was just that we
Could not see clearly enough.

Serving in a double capacity is the priest of the

second section who (Nicol must have been conscious of this)

is located in the middle, mediating between the offended God

of the first section and the offending man of the third,

 

7(London, 1962), p. 29: John Ikenga's Christianity
was one "that accommodated some principles and practices of
his tribal religion."

8Cf. "The Nim Trees In The Cemetery," in Rediscovegy
gpd Other Poems (Ibadan, Nigeria, 1964), p. 8.

9See "The Parable of the Pharisee and the Publican,"
in St. Luke, 18:10-14.

 

 

 

bUt st
Period
3 mOde
image:
Chargj
Work-
in we!
Of Ab;
And IE
noted

c1355.

 

 

 

53

besides serving as the dramatic foil to the intellectual,
endeavouring to expiate, as he palliates God, human incredu—
lity and intellectual pride. Thus, he prays with hope and
in faith:

Come close to me, God, do not keep away,

I walk towards you but you are too far,

Please try and meet me half way,

Because you are my all, my all.
And again aspiring to be good, he calls on the Father, the
Son, and the Holy Ghost to "make of me a goodly man."

Davidson (Abioseh) Nicol is rightly a poet of two

periods of West African poetry: a poet of the colonial
period, largely and almost only in the historical sense,
but still showing some affinity with the others of the same
period in his concern with political freedom and Africanness;
a modern poet in his involvement with words, melody and
imagery, exploring the possible recesses of language and
charging his words to their utmost, especially in his later
work--all this coupled with his interest in modern problems
in west Africa. About him Langston Hughes said, "The poetry
of Abioseh Nicol is quietly moving and deeply personal."10

And referring to Nicol's work in general, Tom H0pkinson

noted that it is "simply contemporary writing of the highest

 

 

class."11
10 A .
Poems From Black Africa, p. 12.
ll"Afro-English Awakening in Our Time," The Observer,

 

September 17, 1961, p. 28.

 

54

J. V. B. Danquah

 

The next West African colonial poet handles a more
universal theme. His concern seems to be life as anyone,
especially a Christian, encounters it. Thus, in his "The
Way of Life" J. V. B. Danquah of Ghana traces the trend of
life from the position of man mystified to that in which he

12 Life is shrouded

finds in God "our true and only destiny."
in "magic and mystery"; the essence of life is not the here
and now, but the hereafter, which is beyond our ken:
It is not now nor then nor hence;
Nor all that is above nor beneath;
No, not all these,
But that which is beyond--
Beyond our present grasp and scope of life:
Akanji comments on these lines:
And this is what another poet has got to say
about "life.". . . Such abstract talk can
hardly qualify as poetry nor are the ideas
expressed sufficiently deep or priginal to
deserve the name of philosophy. 3
Akanji seems too bilious to recognise that the poet is nOt
concerned with life on earth in these lines. This thing
which is beyond our understanding, we must remember, "made

Christ God" and makes the poet "man." We keep wondering

 

12
pp. 32-33.
13"An Anthology of West African Verse compiled by

Olumbe Bassir, Ibadan University Press, 1957," Black Orpheus,
No. 3 (May 1958), 58.

The poem is contained in Olumbe Bassir's anthology,

 

 

 

55

what it is till we are told in the fourth stanza that it is
that which enables us

To seek and see but know not how,

To think and ponder but know not what,

Yet all the while, great wonder!

To feel the urge to know.
It is, then of course, faith which enables us to believe
"where we cannot prove."14

Since life is all "a dream," a living in illusion,
the dream can only be shortlived, and when it is Pshortened/
The Vision is ended," and "We find our souls on earth againi“
One may soar into the blissful kingdom of Heaven with his
imagination, but with his return to consciousness, he finds
he is still on earth. Such soaring is the result of "passion
and desire," the "Offspring" of which is the "heart." The
heart strips man of ”consciousness” "to leave me naked in
unconscious State." But with the ”loosening of our heartsI
contents," and the "opening much the door of spirit/With
passions of faith and love and hope," we attain the power
"to abide in God as gods," for He is our ultimate destiny.
Danquah follows this kind of meditation again in

"The Cause of Death."15 The movement is the same—-from

meditation on Nature and materialistic pursuits of men, to

salvation in Unity with God. Fame, money, wealth and name,

 

l4Alfred Tennyson, "In Memoriam A.H.H.," Proem, 1.4.

15Bassir. ed. An Anthology, pp. 60-61.

 

-.-;..‘..q. . ,fi

 

tie Dc
‘

Ru 0..
V

5“ ”K41

 

 

 

 

 

 

56

which are mundane pleasures and marks of earthly greatness,
are but "vain illusive empty endsl" These are only the
"lower rungs of longer ladders." These make life futile and
restive. From this sardonic view of life, the poet moves to
"truth" which is attained only by a "strongly walled heart,"
and "love" which "leads us on to life for ever/And makes us
immortal/Though in mortal apparel clad.” It is this love,
that “eternal is," which will effect our "blending completely

with God."

Dennis Osadebay

Gerald Moore and Ulli Beier remarked that some of
the poets of the colonial period cried down the indigenous
culture in favour of the newly learned "wisdom," and they
illustrated their point by referring to lines taken from
Dennis Osadebay's poetry:

They questioned not the lies of magic
And fetish seemed to have some logic.l6

However, this is far from being the whole story of
the verse of Osadebay, and is farther still from implying
that this Nigerian poet has no respect for his people's cul—
ture. Osadebay's concern seems to be with the use made of
the indigenous African cultures. If the cultures are to be
preserved only to satisfy the curiosity of the white man,

Osadebay would not take pride in such preservation.

 

l6Modern Poetry From Africa (London, 1963), P. 19.

 

57

Furthermore, his apparent interest in the foreign ways of
life is merely ironical and contemptuous. These two points
constitute the chief themes of the poem "Young Africa's
Plea":

Don't preserve my customs

As some fine curios

To suit some white historian's tastes.
(Mr: Beier noted this point before.)17 Continuing in the
same poem, Osadebay adds:

Let me play with the white man's ways,

Let me work with the black man's brains,

Let my affairs themselves sort out.18
The poem ends on a note of optimism, for at the time of
"sweet rebirth" the African will become "a better man“; and
that moment of regeneration has been reached in the four
poems "about“ Nigeria published in West African Pilot, 1960.19

These poems all can be said to be written ppp patria,

for their overriding theme is Nigeria——praying for, and
praising her; expressing love for, and pledging willing ser-
vice to her. "Land of Sunshine" wishes the "sons and daugh-

ters" of Nigeria happiness and freedom and prays that God

may "defend thee, bounteous land." "Bless This Land"

 

17"Conflict of Cultures in West African Poetry,"
Black Orpheus, No. 1, p. 18.

18Bassir, ed. An Anthology, p. 57.

19September l6, l7, l9, and 20, 1960.

 

 

58

continues and intensifies the prayer. In fact it assumes
'a religious tone quite: "Bless this land oh Lord we pray,"
and as it asks the Lord to guide the country, implores Him
to bless the pe0p1e and "give them peace." The second
stanza expresses the desire to love the land, and the poem
ends with concern for "the cause of good and right."

The enthusiasm with which the poet lauds the land is
shown throughout the poems: Nigeria is a "glorious land" in
"Hail Nigeria"; she has a "glorious name" in "Bless This
Land," and we learn of the ”bounteous land" in "Land of
Sunshine." The same Nigeria is the "brightest star/On
Africa's radiant sky" in "Nigeria, Land of Hope." One may
not be wrong to feel that this borders a bit on idealism.
But on the other hand one can as well imagine the joy of a
child whose mother is within hearing distance of home after
her journey to the market.

Osadebay is never weary of his tribute of adulation
to his country. "Hail Nigeria" praises her as a land of
heroes, wealth and liberty, and eXpresses deep love for her,
while promising to perform the duty of saving her name "from
.0ppression and from shame," and concludes by blessing her
friends and cursing her foes. Besides, it contains a stanza
that is tolerably beautiful:

May the Niger ever flow

And the green fields ever grow
In our fatherland and home
While the waves on beaches foam

.As Nigeria's ensign flies
And our happy anthems rise.

 

 

lg

 

 

59

The fourth poem "Nigeria, Land of Hope," while
expressing hope in the wealth, peace, freedom and fame of
the nation, reiterates the pledge, praise and prayer that
characterise the others. The last couplet concludes this
process of wishing well and pledging:

And cheer the Blackman's soul
To play a noble role.

It is clear that Osadebay is enchanted with the image of the
freedom that was at the time he was writing, September 1960,
knocking on the door of his country, and Langston Hughes took
note of this when he said that in Osadebay's poetry "the poet

and pamphleteer meet to cry aloud for African freedom"20

Conclusion

The West African poets of the colonial period cannot
be considered as poets in any serious sense. There is little
or no aesthetic quality in their poetry. They seem to be
concerned with putting their ideas across to their audience
rather than with poetry as an art. Mr. Hughes has rightly
remarked:

The most interesting non—white poets of contem—
porary Africa are modernist in style, in contrast
to the older writers of colonial days who were

influenced by Victorian models or by the classical
French poets taught in the missionary schools.

 

20Poems From Black Africa, p. 12.

211bid., p. 11.

 

60

The relationship between West African poetry and
modern West African poetry is very tenuous, and consists
only in the theme of the conflict of the indigenous and
foreign cultures. Though this link exists, the fact remains
that to the student of modern West African poetry, the colo—
nial poetry is of instance mainly in the historical sense,
for it precedes the modern poetry in time, and therefore,

can be regarded as its background.

 

 

1‘. '
we"

T403
3 (ii
p: 25

 

CHAPTER III

WEST AFRICAN POETRY IN ENGLISH TODAY

No more fatal mistake could be made than to suppose
that the West alone has something to give and the
African has nothing to do but to receive. The
African is not clay to be cast into western moulds
but a living type which must develop in accordance
with its own laws and express its native genius.

Introduction

The problem of the definition of African literature
has been perennial, and since it is a crucial one, the
author intends to look at it, if only briefly, before set-
tling down specifically on the modern West African poets
themselves. The term 'modern' is another difficult one, but
the writer will, for the purpose of the present study, adopt
the definition given by Gerald Moore and Ulli Beier:

In part it is a matter of the poets' awareness
of the modern idiom in European and American
poetry. It is this awareness that enables them
to use their respective languages without dis-

tracting archaism and in a way that appeals
instantly to the contemporary ear.

 

1J. H. Oldham, Christianity and the Race Problem
(New York, 1925), P. 174. The second sentence of the passage

quoted was cited by Sir Alan Burns in another context and for
a different reason in History of Nigeria (New York, 1963),
p. 25.

 

2Modern Poetry From Africa . p. 28.

 

61

 

62

It may be added that images based on African cultures and
environments, and allusions to African history and tradition
do not weaken this 'modernity,‘ rather they strengthen and
enrich it by opening to the African poets extra vistas that
are not readily available to their European and American
counterparts.

Serving as the ramifications of the problem of defin—
ing African literature in general are the choice of the
medium of expression, the foreign influences on African lit-
erature, and the choice of subject—matter for African writing.
The present chapter surveys these facets of the question in a

general way.
Choice of Medium

Heated arguments had been carried on by the critics
and writers of African literature in general as to whether
the African writer should or should not write in a foreign
language if he is to create a 'truly' African literature.
Some African scholars seem to be convinced that to produce
an African literature worth the name, the African writer
should write in an African language. The most voluble among

these appears to be Mr. Obi Wali.
In his article "The Dead End of African Literature?"

Wali made the following points among others:

 

63

that because African writers such as J. P. Clark
and Christopher Okigbo 'imitate' European and
American writers, the resultant African literature
"lacks any blood and stamina, and has no means of
self-enrichment";

that until the African writers begin to write in
African languages, "they would be merely pursuing

a dead end, which can only lead to sterility,
uncreativity and frustration";

that the Conference of the African writers held at
Makerere agreed that it is better for the African
writers to "think and feel" in their own languages,
and after that, effect "an English transliteration
approximating the original";

that the original should be preferred to a mere
"approximation";

that since "literature . . . is the exploitation of
the possibilities of language," African languages
should be developed by the African writers;

that the criticism of African writing sounds so
dull, drab, and flippant, mainly because there is
no opportunity for original thinking. There is no
need for creative thinking in order to become a
"leading critic or authority" in African literature.
Frazer, Freud, Darwin, and Marx, are, as in European

literature, the necessary reading for the acquisition

(J.

 

 

 

 

TEE-duh: .1! .. n... F,

. Vrg,

  

 

64

of the fundamental critical tools;

g. that though it is difficult, it is still necessary
for critics of African writing to study some of the
leading African languages;

h. that though there are the problems of ”the multiplic-
ity of African languages, the limitation of the
audience to small patches of tribal groups, ques—
tions of orthography, . . .” there is the possibil—
ity for every language to be "developed as litera—

ture."3

By 1965, Wali not only kept fast to his thesis, but
also reinforced it with a reference to the Indian writer in
English, Mr. R. K. Narayan, who expressed a similar view to
Wali's with respect to writing in a foreign language, and
who, therefore, felt that English "must reach the market
place and the village green if it has to send down roots.”4
But long before this time, Ulli Beier and Tom Hopkinson had
anticipated Obi Wali's contention. Thus Beier hinted at the
question and dismissed it hastily:

Some people indeed have ventured the opinion that
the West African should write solely in his

native language. But such a purist attitude is
hardly justifiable when one considers the facts.

 

3Transition, III, 10 (1963), 13-15.

4"Criteria Other Than Linguistic" (Seminar Paper,
Department of Adult Education and Extra—mural Studies,
University of Ibadan, 1965), P. l.

 

in f
numb
the (
to tk

that

since

gathel

 

 

65

The modern West African is already a member

of a nation, and therefore he wishes to be

understood beyond the limits of his tribe.5
And Hopkinson narrated the incident in which some "Europeans"
were explaining to the "Africans eager to write what they
have to say in English," "that such attempts are not only
doomed to failure, since English is not their ‘mother lan-
guage,I but a 'betrayal' of their own background and heri—
tage."6 These two predecessors took to opposite camps, but
each helped to generate the idea that Wali later presented
so strongly and so insistently.

Wali's article was like maize grains thrown out

in front of the house, for as soon as that is done, a
number of contending chickens will be seen rushing to
the centre of action. Wali's horn brought many critics
to the battle scene. Barry Reckord, while seeing with Wali
that the African writers should write in African languages
since they think and feel in them, remarks that as he
gathered at the Conference, the reason why the African
writers do not write in their language "now" is that mostly

"they think as freely in English and find it on the whole

 

5"The Conflict of Cultures in West African Poetry,"
Black Orpheus, No. 1 (September 1957), 17.

6“Afro—English Awakening in Our Time,“ The
Observer, September 17, 1961, p. 28.

 

V6]

Gree
parrt

that

the 1
Colon.
eSChev
He 5a}
laUQUa
deVelc

/.

 

 

 

66

satisfactory for expressing their experience."7 Reckord
does not see why Wali should blame the lack of original
thinking of these writers "on language" and does not believe
that what makes any "stuff literature" is its being written
in one language rather than in another.

In the same connexion, Ezekiel Mphahlele notes, and
very rightly so, that the African writers are not to blame
for what critics say about them, and that the writers do not
"get anywhere if it is implied that because [critics] see
the theme of J. P. Clark's Song of a Goat as reminiscent of
Greek tragedy (indeed it isl), then the reader or Clark is
parroting Aristotle!" Aristotle is one of the foreign writers
that Wali accuses the African writers of imitating.8

Mphahlele argues further that English and French are
the languages which the Africans used for fighting their
colonial "oppressors," and that where colonialism has been
eschewed, these languages still remain a "unifying force."9
He says also that the African writers may write in African
languages only when these languages have been developed (the
development being the work of the governments and the Univer-

sities in Africa, and not that of the writers only). but

 

7"Polemics: The Dead End of African Literature,"
Transition, III, 11 (November 1963), 7.

81bid., p. 8.

9Ibid.

 

67

that writers should not wait till such a time before they

try to express themselves: ". . . are we going to fold our

arms and wait for that kingdom to come?"10 He further

states that though some few African languages have been
fairly well developed, such as Sotho, Zulu, Xhosa, etc.,
the writer still has a choice as to whether or not to write

in these languages: “A writer must choose the medium that
suits him best. . . .”11 And John Clare shares this view:
"No writer wants to be told what he must or must not say and

no more does he want to be told in what language he must say

it."12

Clare makes another point in remarking that an
"original mind," that is, whether in criticism or in creative

writing, "will create its own opportunities"; though he does

not give precision to his term 'opportunities.‘l3 Gerald

Moore is not far from this stand:

If there are distinctively African modes of
thought and experience a real writer will fight
his way to expression of them in a language
which gives him a hearing (and a living). If
the words are not there, he will put them there,
as countless other writers have done before him,
as Achebe does in Things Fall Apart.14

 

loIbid.

11Ibid., p. 9.

12"Polemics," Transition, III, 12 (Jan.-Feb. 1964), 6.

l3Ibid.

l4"Polemics," Transition, III, 11, p. 9.

 

68

It is labouring the obvious to insist that a writer has the
absolute right to choose in what language to express himself.
Speaking in favour of literal translation, Gabriel
Okara suggests the translation of African ideas, philosophy,
folklore and imagery "almost literally from the African
language native to the writer into whatever European lan-
guage he is using as his medium of expression."15 This is
advisable but only in special cases, like the rendering of
proverbs, greetings, riddles, etc. But one can find it hard
to imagine a whole novel or a play written on the pattern of
"almost" literal translation. Nor can one in writing poetry
depend solely on transliteration; but when the poet has some
images to be drawn from his native language, and finds that
the images are already beautifully couched in the native
expressions, it may be best to retain the images in this
state by transliteration. Chinua Achebe has used this tech—

nique very admirably in Things Fall Apart. One example can

 

suffice to clarify the case in point: "I am Dry—meat—that—

fills-the—mouth."l6

If he had said, for instance, “I am
small but effective," the image would not have been as vivid
as it is, even though he might be saying, fundamentally, the

same thing.

 

15"African Speech . . . English Words," Transition,
III, 10 (1963), 15.

16(New York, 1959), p. 98.

 

 

 

69

At this stage of the controversy, Obi Wali replies
to his critics. In defending his idea about the criticism
of African writing, he says:

When I complain of the dullness and drabness of

the criticism done on African literature today,

what I am saying in other words, is that aes-

thetic categories should be inherent in the

structure of language and other elements of

style dictated by structure. . . . It is un-

scientific to formulate theories of African

literature in terms of the aesthetics of other

languages. . . .17
Paul Edwards agrees with this view of Wali's by noting that
“some attempts to relate African writing to the English or
American literary tradition are ludicrous. . . ."18 But
Edwards seems to think that when a writer of one culture
influences a writer of another culture, the latter is
necessarily following the tradition of the former. This
is not so, as will be shown fully later in this chapter.

Reviewing Obi Wali's novel written in Igbo (one of
the African languages) Dr. Austin J. Shelton points out what
seem to him to be its merits and demerits: "This is one of
the first full—length novels ever written in Igbo . . . and

it is the fulfilment of the author's dream of creating

African literature py Africans for African readers."

 

l7"Polemics: A Reply to Critics From Obi Wali,"
Transition, III, 12 (Jan.—Feb., 1964), 7.

18mm" p. 8.

 

F— a ‘-_c

 

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that
be t

Unde:

Clea-
Kati:
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ature
lite:

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i964‘

 

 

7O

Shelton notes a number of problems in this novel, Ngozi dili
Chukwu, in the nature of "variant orthography," passing from
one dialect to another "without forewarning," and using
"neologisms from English, which must be construed rather as
necessity than as anything approaching neo—colonialism.“
Although Shelton recognises the artistic excellence of the
novel, yet by implication, he does not share Wali's view

that African languages, rather than English or French, should
be the medium of expression for the African writers; for he
underscores the fact that out of "more than eight million

people [who] know Igbo,”19 "somewhat fewer than 5342 of them

can read all the subdialects. . . ."20 If the prospective
audience of the writer in Igbo is so small, Shelton seems to
be saying, why all the fuss about writing in that language?
Dr. John Knappert in advocating Wali's idea that a
'truly' African literature must be in African languages,
creates a new problem, which t0vthe African speakers of
native languages other than Swahili, may sound a contradic-
tory sympathy with Wali's aspiration: "Since Swahili liter-
ature is more than a century older than any other African
literature . . . there can be no better language for Africans

to write their literature in than Swahili."21 If every

 

19Ibid.

20Ibid., footnote.

21"The Dead End of African Literature: Swahili as
an African Language," Transition, III, 13 (March-April,
1964), 6.

 

Haw.-

.... ~-.— ..

 

Afric
'truI
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been
langt
empha
the P

not a

wrlte
Swahl
be 9:
Serve

Knapp

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guage

 

 

71

African writer, by virtue of writing in Swahili, produces a
'truly' African literature, certain implications become
glaring: (a) the writer must study Swahili if he has not
been speaking or writing in it, Swahili being now his second
language, of course; (b) since one of Wali's points of
emphasis is the preservation of various African cultures,
the African writer using Swahili as a secondllanguage will
not achieve this objective any better than if he uses any of
the European languages; (c) the development of other African
languages becomes almost unnecessary to Dr. Knappert; and
(d) therefore we end up producing Swahili literature, not
African literature; for though African literature includes
Swahili literature, African literature is not Swahili liter—
ature.

An argument which may be stimulating to the African
writers is that since it has been possible to develop
Swahili in the manner described by Knappert, it should also
be equally possible to develop other African languages to
serve as the writers' media of expression-—a point which
Knappert does not seem to consider.

The whirlpool of the arguments created by Wali con-
tinues its motion. Mr. Chinua Achebe approaches the problem
very realistically and without sentimentality. He states
that in a country like Nigeria, English is a national lan-

guage, and that a national literature can only be produced

 

 

72

in Nigeria in English.22

He goes on to prove that African
literature produced in non—African languages will not "lead
to sterility, uncreativity, and frustration." He quotes
from Christopher Okigbo's Limits, and J. P. Clark's “Night
Rain“ to demonstrate African literature in English, but with
African setting, and portraying African experiences. Achebe
believes that such African writers as these are "speaking of

African experience in a world-wide language."23

He impor-
tantly (and perhaps correctly) remarks that though a foreign
language can be used by the African writers to produce
African literature; and though the language should not be
altered "to the extent that its value as a medium of inter-
national exchange will be lost," the African writers "should
aim to use English in a way that brings out his message
best . . .“ and "aim at fashioning out an English which is
at once universal and able to carry his peculiar experience.“24
Mr. Achebe, with respect to his view on 'setting' and
'experience,‘ has projected the definition of African liter-
ature arrived at during the writers' Conference at Freetown:
The Freetown conference tentatively defined

African literature, for the purposes of discus-
sion, as creative writing in which an African

 

22"English and the African Writer," Transition, IV, 18
(1965), 27.

23Ibid., p. 29.

24Ibid.

 

 

73

setting is authentically handled or to which
experiences originating in Africa are integral.

25
Other critics have given more definitions of African

literature. Cyprian Ekwensi, for example, writes:

My own definition of African writing is writing

which reveals the psychology of the African. I

use the term psychology very broadly to embrace

reactions to situations and to the social order,

religious beliefs, interpretation of moral codes,

inter—relationships within the family. These

factors inter—acting, create the African character

which gives its stamp to African writing. The

subject matter is incidental.
It is clear that Ekwensi does not see from Wali's point of
view, for he would like to see English or other European
languages .used, provided reactions to various life expe-
riences are African; which is reasonable, it seems to me.
And S. H. Olu Tomori is generally of the same opinion.
Giving what he calls "two possible meanings of African
Literature," he says: "It could mean literature written on
an African topic in an African language. It could also mean

literature written in a foreign language on an African

topic."27 Tomori is broadminded enough to accommodate both

 

25Ezekiel Mphahlele, "African Literature and Univer-
sities," Transition, III, 10 (September 1963), 17.

26"Problems of Nigerian Writers," Nigeria Magazine,
No. 78 (September 1963), 218.

7" . . . . . . .
2 Lingu1stlc Con51derations in the Selection of
Texts” (Seminar Paper, No. 13, Department of Adult Education
and Extra-mural Studies, University of Ibadan, 1965), p. l.

 

v n i. .
I! l . .c J

9. - . rb .

o J.(J- .s. a 1.”. ~
1 . .. .. I. J . t
t . I. . n 9
a . .c... t .. e...
u I . us ‘9! V7.f*.¢. . h) - n. f

_l......

 

74

African and foreign languages in his definition, but seems
too narrow in insisting on "African topic," whatever he
means by that.

One other critic approaches this question in a way
that seems'intelligent. While Janheinz Jahn recognizes that
language is needed to classify literatures, for instance,
“une poesie francaise," "une poésie anglaise,“ "une poésie
allemande," he insists that language is not "un critére
suffisant."28 Having shown that although the English and
the Americans use the same language yet they produce two
different literatures, Jahn declares that style is there-
fore the chief criterion for such classification. And in
the case of African literature, he points out that it is
what he calls "procédés stylistiques non—européens" but
"sont issus de la poétique africaine traditionelle" that
are the criteria for determining what is African poetry; and
further he says:

...ces procédes stylistiques se retrouvent
egalement dans la litterature africaine moderne
de langue frangaise ou de langue anglaise....
et ils constituent par consequent des criteres
précieux pour la classification de cette
litterature.

And by way of emphasis, Jahn insists:

La poesie africaine est caracterisee par les
procédes stylistiques definis plus haut, et non

 

28"Sur la litterature africaine," Presence Africaine,
No. 48 (1963), 151.

291mm, pp. 154—155.

 

 

 

75

par la langue employee, non plus que par la
coleur de peau de l'auteur.3

These stylistic behaviours which Jahn recommends as the
distinguishing marks of African literature, are again
pointed at by Achebe in his own views, and there is no
doubt that these more than language are a more plausible
means of characterising African literature. And in this way
African cultures are respected and preserved, as Wali would
have them be.

More than enough has thus been said about this problem
of the choice of language facing the African writer today,
and diverse views have been expressed about Mr. Obi Wali's
patriotic obsession with the creation of a 'truly‘ African
literature in African languages, which have been summarized
in the preceding pages.

Allowing a word more on this very important issue,
it may be said that Mr. Wali's notion of African literature
in African languages is solidly sensible in its ambition,
but emotional in the manner it is pursued. His critics
have been emotional, more or less, with the exception (it
seems to this writer) of Chinua Achebe and maybe Janheinz
Jahn. Achebe's remarks are not only free from sentimental—
ity, but are also the realistic comments resulting from
direct personal experience, and these are logically put

forth, with concrete details to buttress them. Wali has

 

3OIbid., p. 156.

 

 

76

thus done well in pointing out the problem facing the
African writers, and this writer wishes he would approach
the problem more realistically and less emotionally——bearing
in mind constantly that social, educational, religious and
even political factors are all involved; that though a
change be expedient, to effect it may be slow, and that
slowness does not mean stagnation. As to whether or not
English or any other European language could be used to
produce a 'truly' African literature, to say that it could
not is tantamount to a ridiculous refusal to see, for
example, the poems of J. P. Clark, Christopher Okigbo,
George Awoonor—Williams, and the novels of Chinua Achebe,
to mention but a few, as great works of African literature,
which of course they are.

Wali's point about the criticism of African liter—
ature requires closer attention. While, however, as he indi—
cated, foreign patterns should not be imposed on African
literary works, comparisons are legitimate in criticism; and
a similarity discovered between a work by an African and
that by a European, say, does not make the former any less
African, or entirely European. (This point will be dealt
with later in the next chapter in connexion with the discus—
sion of Christopher Okigbo's work.) Furthermore, the fact
that foreign critics of African writings approach these works
from their own points of view, does not prevent any other

critic from seeing them from his own angle. Instead of

 

 

77

diminishing the literary merits of such works, different
possible (though relevant) approaches signify their richness.
For what is criticism as work of art if it lacks this vari—
ety arising from the basic individuality of human beings?
Louis Untermeyer's words may help drive the point home:

. . . art itself is nothing more than a reaction

to as well as a record of the things one loves

or hates, and . . . criticism is merely an anno— 31

tated explanation of these likes and dislikes. . . .

Finally, it is strange that Wali should quarrel with

the reading of Frazer, Freud, Darwin, and Marx in relation
to the criticism of African writing, as if he thinks that
these writers wrote only for one section of humanity and not
for the others. Wali may, in the circumstance, be reminded
that Sir Frazer, for example, includes specimens from "the
Central African kingdom of Unyoro," and "three Hausa king—
doms of Gobir, Katsina, and Daura, in Northern Nigeria," for
the discussion of the killing of kings.32 And in discussing
the priest of the Earth, Frazer again refers to Nigeria:
"Among the Ibo people about Awka, in Southern Nigeria, the
priest of the Earth has to observe many taboos. . . .33 If

Frazer is interested in speaking of Africa, as he is in

speaking of other parts of the globe, one cannot understand

 

31American Poetgy Since 1900 (New York, 1923),
pp. vii—viii.

32The Golden Bough: A Study in Magic and Religion,
Vol. IV (London, 1911), pp. 34-35.

33The Golden Bough, X, 4.

 

 

 

78

that it is a crime against African literature if one finds
it necessary to read his work for purposes of studying this
literature.

In the final analysis, however, English still remains
the dominant medium of expression for the West African
English-speaking poets. This is no unanimous resolution of
the problem, but looks like a silent confirmation of the
principle of individual right of choice of a medium.

Foreign Influences on Modern West
African Poetry in English

 

In the introductory section of A Book of African

Verse edited by John Reed and Clive Wake is the following:

It is difficult to use a language without using

some of the literary traditions which have

grown up with that language, and most poets in

this book have been influenced by the traditions

of English and French poetry.34
Among the examples cited is "Gabriel Okara, [who] for example,
writes in a way which suggests he has been deeply influenced
by Dylan Thomas. . . ."35 About the influences on J. P.
Clark, Ulli Beier gives us the two names, T. S. Eliot and
G. M. Hopkins,36 and later another source points out that

not only is he influenced by the moderns like "Yeats and

T. S. Eliot," but also by "the Elizabethans" from whom "he

 

34(London, 1964), p. 3.

351bid.

36"Three Mbari Poets," Black Orpheus, No. 12 (1963),

47.

 

 

79

took" a “note of easy—seeming power," and "fullness of

voice. . . ."37 Further still, Langston Hughes notes that

the modern African poets "have read Auden and Spender and

Eliot, Mauriac, Jacques Prevert and perhaps Brecht.“38

Janheinz Jahn is not content with mentioning the foreign
influences only, but would bring out also the traditional
influences:

Comme la poésie néo—africaine est issue de deux
traditions, l'africaine et 1'européene, et

comme chaque écrivain est libre de préférer la
stylistique de l'une ou de 1'autre de ces deux
traditions, on distingue deux courants contraires
dans la poesie néo- africaine contemporaine:

1' un tend a rompre avec la tradition africaine,
aussi bien quant a la forme que quant au fond, et
a s 'integer a la poesie occidentale.

However, the next point which Jahn makes cannot

apply to modern West African poetry:

Sur 1e continent africain, la poésié écrite,

/ I . -

conformement aux tendances aSSimilatrices

des missionaires et des colonisateurs,

commenpa par rejeter la tradition africaine

et adopter les models europeens.

The truth of the matter is that the modern West African poet

while accepting the influences of the "European models" on

 

37E. B. "Modern Influences on African Verse,“
Insight, No. 7 (n.d.), 30.

38Poems From Black Africa, p. 12.

39Presence Africaine, No. 48 (1963), 157—158.

4oIbid., p. 158.

'- IE.

nits

 

 

80

his work, still retains whatever he thinks useful in his

traditional life.

Themes of Modern West African
Poetry in English

 

Conflict is a prominent characteristic of the
African literary world, not only in the sense that Négritude
is a conflict between “blackness" and “whiteness,"41 or that
most West African writers in English are concerned with the
conflict between indigenous cultures and the imported (super-
imposed may be the bitterer wordi) ones, or yet that the
situation in South Africa exhibits oppression versus the
struggle to be free——not only these, but also in the sense
that there is the conflict between the African advocates of
Négritude (the French—speaking West African writers) and
their English—speaking counterparts; and also the exasperat-
ing clash between the African writers and their critics—-
foreign and native. Another ramification of the conflict
can still be found, as we have already seen earlier in this
chapter, between the exponents of African literature in
African languages, and their opponents. A less overt con-

flict may exist in each black African writer between the

 

41Négritude, a term invented by Aimé Césaire of
Martinique, is used to describe a movement in Negro liter-
ature, some of whose themes are the "warm triumphant beauty
of African woman," and the "devastation of ancient Africa
and its culture by white Europe." See Modern Poetry from
Africa, pp. 16—17.

 

81

foreign language he uses for artistic creation, and his own
native tongue. Discussions on these issues have punctuated
the African literary scene, but the present task is with the
West African poets writing in English.

Much has been said by various critics and observers
of modern West African poetry about the theme of conflict.
In this connexion, for instance, Ezekiel Mphahlele said that
"conflict is an intensely-felt statement."41 But while
there is conflict of cultures reflected in this poetry,
there are many other threads to the texture of the corpus
of the poets' works, such as the celebration of traditional
heritage per se, love and hate, tragic and weary views of
life, and the treatment of the foreign and the indigenous
without conflict in matter or in method. And what is more,
from time to time, we find the poets dealing with the matter
of pure aesthetics in their works. J. P. Clark also recog-
nises this variety of themes in modern West African poetry
in English, while witnessing still to the obvious theme of
conflict:

The great complication, perhaps, for the West
African elite brought up in a system not quite
British is that he swims in a stream of double
currents, one traditional, the other modern.
Both of them do not run parallel; in fact they
are often in conflict. Accordingly, you are
likely to find him at church or mosque in the

morning and in the evening taking a title at
home that carries with it sacrifice of some

 

41Frances Ademola , ed. Reflections: Nigerian
Prose & Verse (Lagos, 1962), P. 12.

 

 

82

sort to his ancestors and community gods. . . .

Quite evident too is an awareness of the condi-

tions of human existence as known to each per—

sonally. Perhaps, following from this, is their

tacit acceptance, whether in pride or in humility,

of the fact that a poem summoned to life by a

committee of citizens [an apparent reference to the

Negritude school], however revolutionary, is more

likely to be the hotch—potch and doggerel that

many national anthems are than a genuine work of

art.
Clark has certainly repeated the idea that Jahn had given us
before——"a stream of double currents, one traditional, the
other modern, . . ." an echo of Jahn's "deux courants con-
traires. . . ." The point of interest in Clark's passage is
his mention of the multiplicity of themes handled by the
modern West African poets using English.

The remaining chapters of this study will demonstrate

such themes, as used:by the four modern poets being studied,
and also the various influences—-foreign and indigenous—-on

the poets, their use of English language, and their poetic

techniques at large.

 

43"Poetry in Africa Today," Transition, IV, 18, p. 24.

 

 

CHAPTER IV

CHRISTOPHER OKIGBO AND FOREIGN INFLUENCES

My Limits . . . was influenced by everyting and
everybody. . . . It is surprising how many lines
of the Limits I am not sure are mine and yet do
not know whose lines they were originally. But
does it matter?

(Christopher Okigbo)l

Introduction

Christopher Okigbo is a good example for proving that

although a modern West African poet may be greatly influenced

by a foreign poet, yet the former's work remains essentially

African. The point has been noted by most critics of African

poetry that Okigbo is influenced by Ezra Pound. Mr. Ulli

Beier hinted at this in his review, "Three Mbari Poets,"

2 and

J. P. Clark went a step futher to make a specific reference

to cantos 6 and 104:

The bright aura and dazzle, the armpit, the
lioness, the white light, the waves as escort,
the crown and moonlight, the transience of the
maid like "matchflare in the wind's breath,"
the mirrors and gold crop all constitute an

 

II,

l"Transition Conference Questionnaire," Transition,
5 (July—Aug. 1962), 12.

2Black Orpheus, No. 12 (1963), 47.

83

 

84

apparatus completely taken from Pound's Cantos

6 and 104, and where the "downward” movement

here really was "upward," and the wind that of

the King.3

Two things strike one particularly in this connex—

ion. Firstly, what this influence of Pound on Okigbo is has
not been pinned down wholly. Secondly, Okigbo himself has
never made mention, to this writer's knowledge, of Ezra
Pound as one of the artists that have influenced his poetry;
yet he gave a list of many others:

My Heavensgate (Mbari Publications) was influ-

enced by the Impressionist Composers. It is

curious how this happens, but this is the

truth or part of it. I wrote several parts of

Heavensgate under the spell of Debussy, Caesar

Frank and Ravel. . . .4

In another instance, Okigbo gave the names of more

people who influenced his work—-Raja Ratnam, Malcom Cowley,
Stéphane Mallarmé, and Rabindranath Tagore.5 However, it
can be hardly contested that Pound has had pervading influ-

ence on the poetry of Christopher Okigbo, as will be shown

in this chapter.

 

3"Poetry in Africa Today," Transition, IV, 18, p. 25.

4Transition, II, 5, p. 12.

5"Silences," Transition, III, 8 (1963), 13.

 

85

 

The Mortar Is Not Yet Dry

Canto VIII of Ezra Pound is one of those that deal
with the Malatesta theme. Sigismondo de Malatesta was an
Italian Renaissance soldier, whose superb qualities as a
schemer, strong man and admirer of beautiful things held
much attraction for Pound. Pound learnt the history of this
passionate hero during one of his tours of the Italian
battlefields, and in The Cantos (VIII, IX, X among others)
he tipped him for commensurate glorification. Pound did not
merely catalogue facts and events about Malatesta, but cre—
ated "letters and documents to give his 'history' an air of
disinterestedness."6

It is in such a letter, which appears at the very

beginning of the eighth canto, that we hear the order:

And tell the Maestro di pentore
That there can be no question of

His painting the walls for the moment,
As the mortar is not yet dry
And it wd be merely work chucked away-
(11.27-31)
In the next eight lines we learn that the buildings to be
painted are "chapels," and that in the interim, "something
else" would be arranged for the painter to paint. But he

would still be given "so much per year" for "he needs cash,"

 

6William Van O'Conner, Ezra Pound (Minneapolis,
1963), PP. 35-36.

7The Cantos of Ezra Pound (London, 1964), P. 32.

 

 

86

and finally, he is assured "that he will get the sum agreed
on." Essentially, this is an order not to do something; it
is prohibitive, even though not in a harsh way. The magna-
nimity of Malatesta shows vividly.

Okogbo has adopted one of the lines quoted above—-
“As the mortar is not yet dry," and but for "As" which is
supplanted by "&" in Limits, the line is transferred intact.
.Limits II is packed full with images of the desire for
growth, struggling for light, and need for expression. We
have a whole picture of a weak dwarf in the midst of giants,
or of an equatorial forest where the gigantic trees form a
canopy with their leaves on top, preventing the low under—
growths from getting light and rain for effective growth.
Very appropriately, therefore, "He was a shrub among the
poplars," in need of I'roots" and ”sap to grow to sunlight.“
There is further a "feeling for audience" by the "selves."
Why audience? There is need for expression, for "voice and
soul with selves" have united. The voice is therefore
struggling to be heard, and is groping (as if in the dark),
looking for people to hear it. This is a different voice from
that in the poet's "Distances" II and III.8 This latter
voice does not grope for audience, but in the total blind-
ness in the "island," it “sought its echo." This is a

mastervoice, for the protagonist will only be its "acolyte."

 

8Published in Transition. IV, 16 (1964), 9—13.

 

ill;
_.I. a...

 

87

In Limits, there is even a competition among the selves.

The selves may represent the things to be expressed; their
qualitites; or who to express them--a historian, politician,
poet, and so on. In the end, one self triumphs, and the
“name“ produces "its foliage," but it is yet young, and
inexperienced. The adjective "green" points to this.

The promising hope with which section JI ends is to
be stifled in section III. The physical situation is adverse
at the outset. The "banksf are "of reed." All the connota-
tions of "reed“ crowd in upon the reader here: does “reed"
mean a musical instrument, or the brittle—stemmed marsh
plant noted for its weakness and slenderness? Can it be
reminiscent of the scriptural use of the word——"A reed
trembling in the wind?“9

In any event, the next line shows that "reed" does
not stand for a favourable idea: "Mountains of broken
bottles," where one must tread very cautiously. The situa-
tion is chaotic and dangerous. Then comes the observation-—
"& the mortar is not yet dry. . . ." This is said by way of
reflection; it may be a realisation of one's own weakness,
or the obvious impossibility, because of obstacles, of pro-
ceeding with the work. What this work is here we do not yet
know. All we know is that footfalls are silent, and "we
must go/Wearing evemist against the shoulders/Trailing sun's

dust saw dust of combat," with the notion of struggling

 

9Matthew, 11:7.

 

‘

 

88

insisting. If there is to be singing at all, this must be
done "tongue—tied without a name or audience." This is a
height of suppression, lack of encouragement for the aspir—
ing voice of the singer, the poet, or any artist. That is
why Okigbo calls it "the crisis point.”

This resembles the situation of the lamenting
"sisters" in "silences," (iv), where in the same paradoxical
tone the bells that should normally sound have become dumb:

We are the dumb bells

We are the dumb bells

Outside the gates. . . .10

Back to Limits, shortly after, the voice "is reborn"
and it "transpires/Not thro' pores in the flesh/but the
soul's back-bone." This can mean that the voice now speaks
of the things of the soul and not of the flesh, that is to
say, from the point of view of morality; or that since it is
the voice of a poet, it speaks through the soul, for accord—
ing to Matthew Arnold, "genuine poetry is conceived and
composed in the soul."11 The voice issues a series of com-
mands--"Hurry on down, . . .” ending with:

To rockpoint of CABLE

To pull by the rope
The big white elephant, . . .

loChristopher Okigbo, "silences: Lament of the
£3ilent SiSters," Transition. III, 8 (March 1963), 14.
11Matthew Arnold' Essays in Criticism First and
£§€3cond Series. Introduction by G. K. Chesterton (London,

1964) , p. 279.

 

 

 

89

,and.again we hear "& the mortar is not yet dry" repeated.
The commands here point to the difficult task of pulling

a "big white elephant" by a rope. But the voice has spoken
only in a dream, and when "the dream wakes“ it fades "like a
shadow, and does not leave "a mark."

The fourth section of Limits shows clearly that the
concern of the poet is his art. But the image which ”in-
sists" after the voice has faded is a distracting one. This
is the image of "my lioness“ who has wounded the poet with
her "seaweed face," and he is tired of her. But what is the
poet distracted from? And why should he desire to be awak—
ened "near the altar"? Since his concern is the writing of
his poem, the obstinate image of the lioness prevents him
from concentrating on his art. That is why he pleads:

When you have finished,

and done up my stitches,
wake me near the altar,

& this poem will be finished.

Probably he needs to be awakened near the altar to pick up
his religious theme, which he dropped just before the end of
Heavensgate, and will pick up in the second part of Limits--

"Fragments Out of the Deluge."

 

 

9O

Thematic Influence

From the point of view of themes, some parallels
between Okigbo and Pound can be established. These may or
may not indicate direct influence of the latter on the
former, for many a time what we call an influence may simply
be a coincidence: "What are called literary influences are
usually only literary symptoms springing from the same cause
as the works they are deemed to have affected.”12

However, both Pound and Okigbo are concerned with
cultural atavism, though of different kinds. Pound goes
back, in The Cantos, to Homer (cantos I, XXXIX), to Ovid
(XLIX, LI), to Italian Renaissance (Malatesta episode), to
Confucius (canto XIII, for instance), and to the first
World War (canto XIV) and so on, to find a pattern for re-
ordering the chaotic society of the present. In the same
way, Okigbo goes back,in Heavensgapg and Limits, to the
worship of Idoto and the deities of the palm grove to find
a replacement for the conventional religion which he no
longer finds satisfactory. His spiritual life has been
disrupted, and only the religion of his forefathers can

steady the weather—beaten soul.

 

12Anthony Hartley, ed. The Penguin Book of French
Verse 4: Twentieth Century (Baltimore, Maryland, 1963),

 

£3- xxiv.

 

 

91

Thus at the opening of Heavensgate he stands before
"mother Idoto" as "a prodigal” desiring to return to his
parent, and praying to her to ”give ear and hearken" to his
"cry." Paul Theroux noted that Okigbo is ”a poet, prophet,

prodigal."l3

Again at the beginning of Limits he prays to
the goddess of "palm grove,” who is "Queen of the damp half
light.” He hangs his egg-shells to her; he is an "Emigrant”
leaving his country of exile for his home (Limits I). Eggs
are often usedhin Igbo society for offering sacrifices. The
whole atmosphere is that of the indigenous religion, and the
sincerity of the votary—poet cannot be doubted. "Lustra" I,
II, III in Heavensgate, also teem with reminiscences of the
indigenous sacrificial systems.

If Okigbo is a ”prodigal,” an "Emigrant," from where
has he been exiled and to where? The answer to this question
brings out two other thematic links between Okigbo and Pound.
Forrest Read, in his scholarly study of the Odysseus theme
in The Cantos, made the point that Pound is like Odysseus
who, after the destruction of Troy, sought his way home to
Ithaca.l4 The chief point is that both are seeking their

way home: Odysseus home to Ithaca, Pound home to Italy. It

should be warned that Okigbo's situation resembles Pound's

 

 

l3"Christopher Okigbo," Transition, V, 22 (1965), 20.

14"A Man of No Fortune," in Ezra Pound: A Collection

5215 Critical Essays, ed. Walter Sutton (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.,

1963). pp. 64—79.
\

 

 

92

only in a very general sense. The protagonist of Heavensgate
had been estranged from his indigenous religion when he was

a child, and taken into the realm of a foreign (Christian)
religion. In this sense, he is a prodigal, an outcast, an
exile ("prodiga1" is used three times in Heavensgate). And
having had an unsatisfactory experience with the new religion,
he, like the prodigal son of the Scriptures, comes back home
now to his parent, begging for readmission into the family—
fo1d.15

The idea of homecoming after terrible experiences
continues in another poem—-”Distances," where it assumes a
tone of uncertainty, for it is to a dream that the protago—
nist is returning:

. . . and the chamber descanted

the birthday of earth, paddling me home through

some dark labyrinth, from laughter to dream.
(Sec. I)

It is in revealing the experience of returning home
after a period of exile as is shown in Heavensgate that
Okigbo shows another resemblance to Pound-—his attitude to
Christianity. Pound did not like the Church's inhibition of
the sexual act. To him man needs sex in order to live; and

like the French poet, Remy de Gourmont, Pound seems to

believe that

 

 

15Luke, 15.

 

 

93

11 y aurait peut—Etre une certain corrélation
entre la copulatign compééte et profonde et le
developpement cerebral.
Okigbo satirises the Catholic Church a great deal in
Heavensgate.

In “Passage" iv, we hear of the "byelaws thereto
appended/by Leidan,/archtyrant of the holy sea." Byelaws
may be the Commandments or the regulations of the Catholic
Church, and "Leidan" is certainly a Catholic priest or
\bishop, for he represents the "holy sea" (a pardoy of Holy
See); and then he (Leidan) is "archtyrant." We know that
this is so, for "Leidan" has the power to forgive sins, and
the "forgiveness" is given "upon the waters of the genesis/
by Leidan." In "Initiation" (i), we learn that the protag—
onist was baptized by Kepkanly from whom he received the
"mystery” "upon waters of the genesis." Paul Theroux and
O. R. Dathorne said that the passage dealing with the "Scar
of the crucifix" signifies that the poet is crucified like
Christ.17 But this writer rather thinks that the scar is
only a sign or witness of the mystery of Baptism which the
poet has received, for this ”Scar of the crucifix/over the
breast" "witnesseth" the "mystery which I initiate/received

newly naked/upon waters of the genesis. . . .

l6William Van O'Connor, Ezra Pound, p. 27.

17See Transition, V, 22 (1965), 18—20; and Black
LQJTpheus, No. 15 (August 1964), 59.

 

 

94

Immediately after this information is given we hear
of “John the Baptist" who preached the "gambit," and this is
"life without sin, without life," and one is not expected to
make "decisions" about accepting it. It must be accepted
without question. This is faith——believing without doubting
what God has revealed. Life "without life" sounds satirical.
It commands life without carnal enjoyments, and as we shall
see in section V, it seems impossible to the poet. The
ridicule continues to the representation of Church organi-
sation in terms of mathematical figures: the "square yields
the moron/fanatics, priests and popes,/organising secretaries
and/party managers . . ."; then the "rhombus—-brothers and/
deacons and liberal politicians and/selfish selfseekers and
all/who are good doing nothing at all." The satire becomes
too scathing, and still goes a step further to show "the
quadrangle, the rest/me and you. . . ." But Okigbo is not
attacking religion as an institution, it seems to this
writer, but the managers of religion. For he accepts that
the "Mystery" would be a witness to ”the red—hot blade on
right breast/the scar of the crucifix" if there were not the
"errors of the rendering." In other words, the rulers of
the church have misinterpreted the religion of Christ.

The poet goes next into the area of Church preaching.
{This is all in the form of prohibition: not to ”wander in
Eipeargrass” in the dark; not to "listen to a keyhole"-—eaves—

ciropping. To the poet these warnings are unnecessary, and

 

 

95

that is why he thinks that

. . . there are here
the errors of the rendering

Furthermore, some of the commands are hypocritical. One
recommendation says "Screen your bedchamber thoughts/with
sunglasses" so that there will be no interference from out—
side with man's mind. This is encouraging hypocrisy. Pro-
vided you do something in hiding there is nothing wrong in
doing it—-Victorian morality? But the poet proves the argu—
ment wrong, for the "prophet" and "poet" can probe the
mind's chamber. And in section V comes the command, to the
poet impossible of obedience, demanding that the ram should
disarm. The poet responds

except by rooting

who could pluck yamtubers

from their base?
This writer agrees to the interpretation given to these
lines by Paul Theroux.18 It is with respect to this View
of the impossibility of checking sexual acts that Okigbo
exhibits Pound's influence, from the point of View of their
opinion of Christianity.

Closely allied to this theme of Christianity is the
theme of theomachy, and again both Pound and Okigbo have
dealt with it, each in his own way. In The Odyssey
Eurilochus caused the killing of the sacred cattle belonging

to the Sun-god. In Metamorphoses of Ovid the sailors behaved

 

18Transition, v, 22 (1965), 19.

 

 

96

.against the wish of Bacchus by being so perverted in will

that they broke all laws of truth and justice in their

inordinate quest for worldly riches. The god in each of

these cases retaliated triumphantly by perpetrating suffer—

ings on the human offenders. Pound made use of the former

myth in Canto XXXIX in connection with the Odysseus theme,

and the latter myth in cantos XLIX and LI to illustrate the

danger of usury.
Okigbo similarly deals with the fight against the

indigenous gods by the exponents of Christianity. The fight

indeed is between these gods and the Christians' God whom

these Christians represent. Limits VII shows us Flannagan

preaching "the Pope's message":

To sow the fireseed among grasses,
and 10,
To keep it till it burns out. . . .

The message is to the effect of destruction; and there is

the implication that it will be effective, for when fire is

set to grass, the grass will naturally be burnt clear.
Section VIII introduces the "Sunbird" again. In

Heavensgate——"Passage" (i), a "sunbird" was mourning "a

Inother on spray." The image of death is one that Okigbo

(aften uses in his poems. "Distances" has such a terrible

19Sister M. Bernetta Quinn, "The Metamorphoses of
1321a Pound," in Motive and Method in The Cantos of Ezra

.lisagpg, ed. Lewis Leary (New York, 1954). P. 82.

 

 

picture 0

Old! Crac

r+ 0’ tr"

and the H

 

"like spl
Such scer‘.

kinds of

 

bird is 1
"Distance
of the it
each meme
or the SI
IX and X
and then
silence.

Signifie

vandalis

|
t

1“: is

 

 

 

 

97

picture of death with human beings crumbling around it like

old, cracked mud~walls=
At her feet roll their heads like cut fruits;
about her fall

their severed members, numerous as locusts:
(Section II)

and the "dismembered joints/of the ministrants" accumulate
"like split wood left to dry." An indigenous image, this.
Such scenes are sorrow—inspiring, but we have different
kinds of sorrow in the two poems. In Heavensgate, the sun-
bird is identifiable with the poet himself; not so in
"Distances." He has also a mother to ”mourn”--the goddess
of the forest. In ”Water Maid” (iv) the poet is "fulfilling
each moment in a/broken monody." What happens to the poet
or the sunbird that warrants mourning is revealed in Limits
IX and X. The enemies of the gods first killed the sunbird
and then, entering the forest, found the twin—gods. The
silence which pervaded the forest and which is ”within me"
signifies the sorrow that will be consequential to the
vandalism of the invading "beasts.”

There were curses-—"Ma1isons, malisons, . . ."
Inalison being a sort of malediction. ”Bombax" helps to char—
acterise the enemies. The image of climbing the "bombax"
\rery exquisitely externalises the impulse of pride and
I>omposity of the Christian—enemies of the indigenous gods.
fiThey are birds of prey who possess “talons” which ”they

Cirew out of their Scabbard," and "beaks" also which "they

 

 

ofChrist

Okigbo' s
“ornament:
of the C?
the tectt
Whictttjl
image, Q
Pagan t
killed
Okigbo

a reli

gods,
‘ I o
#18 in
Outsidf
itally’

UPOn wh

 

98

sharpened." Thus equipped, they fell "upon the twin—gods
of Irkalla.“ Like the soldiers who cast lots on the garment
of Christ after he had been crucified, the despoilers of
Okigbo's "twin—gods" divided among themselves the gods'
"ornaments," "beads," ”carapace" and "shell.” The evocation
of the Christian image (death of Christ) is a variation of
the technique of juxtaposing Christian and indigenous images,
which Ulli Beier has noted aiso.20 Besides, in this very
image of killing the twin—gods meet the Christian and the
pagan together. The fertility ritual in which a god is
killed or hanged—-an old pagan practice—-is reflected by
Okigbo, though his context shows an antagonistic rather than
a religious purpose.21

The "calamity" does not end with the killing of the
gods, but is protracted into complete desecration—-"the gods
lie in state/without the long—drum," and unsung; they lie
outside the "Shrinehouse," mouldy and forgotten. And pathet-
ically, almost ironically, the poet points out a platitude
upon which he could lean for consolation:

Gods grow out,

abandoned;
And so do they. . . .

 

20B1ack Orpheus, No. 12 (1963), 47.

21Frazer, The Golden Bough, IV, 221.

 

This supp

ical situ
incident

bird as s
is most c
tongue/cl
muzzled;

(or the
muzzled,

But the 9
image is

Effacemen

 

 

and then
PIOCesS i
sunbird,

1
Williams,

gods;

 

99

This suppression of the local gods reflects a true histor—

ical situation.22

Now section X of Limits rehearses the
incident within the limits of a dream and presents the sun—
bird as singing. The identity of the poet with the sunbird
is most clearly brought out. "The newsprint—slits of his
tongue/cling to glue. . . .” The sunbird is caught and
muzzled; he cannot sing again. In the same way, the poet
(or the voice that has been straining to be heard) is
muzzled, and hence: "& the cancelling out is complete."
But the gagging of the poet objectified by the sunbird—
image is only a completion of the process started with the
effacement of the twin gods. The gods were destroyed first,
and then with the suppression of the poet, the cancelling
process is completed. It is little wonder then that the
sunbird, or the poet, mourns.

Incidentally, the Ghanaian poet, George Awoonor—
Williams, expresses similar concern about the indigenous
gods:

For haven't I gone astray from old memories,
desires and ambitions
And placed my offerings before alien gods

Whose shrines I saw only in my dreams?
Haven't I asked for my appropriate portion

 

22Cf. Sir Alan Burns, History of Nigeria (London,
1963), p. 264: "Although the change is slow, it is unques—
tionable that paganism is gradually yielding in Nigeria to
the influence of Islam and Christianity, partly perhaps on
account of the social and political advantages of these
religions." Burns' book was first published in 1929.

 

3*

$3

This pass
the poet
"alien go
I
Writer dc
second pa
"“9 set f
10$ of ti:

end of t‘EI

 

 

 

.Andideserted my father's house

For the company of the Gods that lie
perpetually reclined

On the beach

Offering putrid joys that smell of night and
spent love's weary sweat?23

This passage portrays again the prodigal—son situation, for
the poet left his "father's house" and sought the company of
"alien gods."

It is clear from the above analysis that this
writer does not share 0. R. Dathorne's view about the
second part of Limits. Dathorne made the point that here
"we get first a description of the ruin that is a sine gua
ppp of the revolution of the spirit and out of this ruin

24

comes about the regeneration of novelty." And as for the

end of the poem, he remarked that "the protagonist who began

25 But he does not

in Heavensgate as a suppliant is defied."
tell us who defied the poet. As has been pointed out above
(p. 99), the sunbird and the poet share some identity: both
are mourning lost mothers. Both are representative and
exponents of the traditional religion, and since both are
effaced (one killed, the other quietened) and the twin gods
killed, it means that the alien religion has succeeded in

suppressing the indigenous one, and thus "the cancelling out

is complete."

 

23"The Nim Trees in the Cemetery."

24Black Orpheus, No. 15 (August 1964), 59.

251bid., p. 60.

 

 

T1
is more g.
poetic 6X]
an epic, \
preparati’
Canto X);
stayed fc.‘
him the i:
Tiresias I

g
the acticle
bafilShmen
his moths
treats hi.
”News:

 

 

 

101

Stylistic Influence

The influence of Ezra Pound on Christopher Okigbo
is more glaring from the point of view of techniques of
poetic expression. The Cantos begin in medias res, like
an epic, with Odysseus and his crew offering sacrifices in
preparation for their journey to Hades to meet Tiresias. In
canto XXXIX what preceded this can be seen: Odysseus had
stayed for a year with Circe, the seducing goddess, who gave
him the instruction to go to Hades to seek the advice of
Tiresias in order to reach Ithaca.

Heavensgate in the same way begins in the middle of
the action. The opening ovation to Idoto points to the
banishment of the protagonist and his desire to return to
his mother—goddess. The rest of the book on the whole
treats his initiation into the new religion——Baptism,
pentecostal forgiveness of sins, and his discovery that he
has been isolated. Limits continues the trend and shows the
initial combat in which the gods were destroyed; and it can
be remembered that the poet and the sunbird had mourned this
incident in Heavensgate, "Passage" (i).

In ABC of Reading, Pound gives the chief means of
charging "language with meaning to the utmost possible
degree": and these are "phanopoeia, melopoeia, logopoeia."
These mean "throwing the object (fixed or moving) on to the

visual imagination"; "inducing emotional correlations by the

 

e...-

sound an

effects ’
emotions
ness in .
employed
are to t»

"ViVidne.

(fl

 

   

102

sound and rhythm of the speech”; "inducing both of the
effects by stimulating the associations (intellectual or
emotional) that have remained in the receiver's conscious-
ness in relation to the actual words or word groups

employed."26

In other words, imagery, music and thought
are to be emphasized. G. S. Fraser refers to them as

"vividness, realization, image-making" (phanopoeia); "music,

 

melody-making" (melOpoeia); "word-making or thought-making"

 

(logopoeia). Fraser thinks that except in Hugh Selwyn

 

Mauberley, Pound never became "an absolute master" of logo-

 

poeia.27 This is not entirely true, for in The Cantos,

 

according to Harold H. Watts, "ideas in Action" is not the
least emphasized among the themes.28
Okigbo's power for "image-making" and "melody-

making" has been noted by Ezekiel Mphahlele and Ulli Beier.
With reference to "Prelude to the Limits" (that is "Siren

Limits" in Mbari edition), Mr. Mphahlele said that it is a
"carpet strewn with loaded images. . . .”29 And Ulli Beier
‘was so much charmed by the music of Okigbo's poetry that he

‘thought that one could get satisfied with reading it even if

lie does not understand what the poetry is "about”:

 

26(New York, 1960), p. 63.

27Ezra Pound (New York, 1961), p. 31.

28Harold H. Watts, Ezra Pound and The Cantos
“Shicago, 1952). PP. 32—40; 98-100.

29

 

Ademola, ed. Reflections: Niggrian Prose & Verse,

 

p. 10.

 

" rem-:93 .~szr

 

1321‘s rema,

the inver.‘

of.31 Th

Ls

matter: W

 

is Precise
in respeC.
Pound‘s p
I
IECeivE t]
Can EVEn

RObs rt GI

W

mdeth.
EXpeIie
fjge d . i
introduc

Of “rhiCh

4)

 

103

Everything he touches vibrates and swings and

we are compelled to read on and to follow the

tune of his chant, hardly worried about the

fact that we understand little of what he has

to say. The obscurity in Okigbo's poetry is

of course deliberate. 0
This remark smells of the "autotelic" approach to poetry,
the invention of which Karl Shapiro accused T. S. Eliot
of.31 This is the notion that what the poet says does not
matter; what is of importance is the way he says it. This
is precisely T. S. Eliot's attitude to Ezra Pound's cantos,
in respect of which he said that he did not care for
Pound's philosophy.32

It is not surprising that Pound and Okigbo should

receive the same kinds of remarks from their critics. One
can even go a step further to see this similarity. To
Robert Graves, for instance, Pound is a "charlatan," and
The Cantos are nothing but "sprawling, ignorant, and

indecent."33

Similarly, Mr. Mphahlele has wondered if the
experience expressed in "Prelude to the Limits" is'disorga—
nized, if the writer is merely composing an overture to

introduce us into something to come later, the dominant theme

of which will be the 'Lioness'? Or is it a purposeless

 

3oBlack Orpheus, No. 12 (1963), 46—47.

31In Defence of Ignorance (New York, 1965), p. 29.

32F. R. Leavis, New Bearings in Epglish Poetry
(London, 1959), p. 136.

33

 

Fraser, Ezra Pound, pp. 110 and 111.

 

adventui

“meanin:

wrong w

can jgr
statemer
this aut
essentie
times be
1119“ d1:
beauty
Conside

a deSer
whiCh e
“Esters
Japane:
det600i

\

 

 

104

I34 In connexion with

gdyenture tpying to trail his thoughts
“meaning“ in poetry G. S. Fraser says: "What would be very
wrong would be to say, as some critics have said, that you
can ignore meaning and still get the poetry. . . ."35 This
statement is made with respect to Pound's cantos. While
this author generally agrees with Fraser that "meaning" is
essential, he would like to point out that a poem may some-
times be obscure to the extent of making its precise "mean-
ing" difficult of access, yet its poetic sensibility and
beauty felt and appreciated: "The wisest of the Ancients
consider'd what is not too Explicit as the fittest for
Instruction, because it rouzes the Faculties to act."36
Both Pound and Okigbo share the technique of having
a descriptive or lyrical passage followed by a vivid image,
which epitomises and clinches the passage, or resolves the
mystery therein. "Earl Miner, the closest student of
Japanese influences on Pound calls this the 'super pository

.n37

method. Pound's "April" (in Lustra) is an example of

this technique:

 

34Ademola. ed. Reflections, p. 10. Italics mine.

35Fraser, Ezra Pound, p. 72.

36Ralph Maud, Entrances to Dylan Thomas‘ Poetry
(Pittsburgh, 1963), p. 1.

37William Van O'Connor, Ezra Pound, p. 24.

 

 

Okigbo'

line__u.
demOnStz
lost "mo
he is in:

SitUatio

   
  

aQAIn in
the "sup.

\

1957},

 

 

105

Three spirits came to me

And drew me apart

To where the olive boughs

Lay stripped upon the ground: 38

Pale carnage beneath bright mist.
The last line contains the summarising image. We see this
method again in "Gentildonna" (Lustra) where "Grey olive
leaves beneath rain—cold sky" vivifies the situation of the
"she" of the poem.39 "Liu Ch'e" exemplifies the same tech-
nique. Here the final line——”A wet leaf that clings to the
threshold"—-points to the silence and immobility of the
woman who lies "beneath" the leaves that "Scurry into heaps

40

and lie still." William Van O'Connor has referred to this

poem in his discussion of Pound's use of "super pository
method."41

This ”super pository method" is used many times in
Okigbo's work. In Heavensgate, "Passage" (i), the last
line——"The young bird at the passage"——is a vivid image
demonstrating not only the solitude of the poet mourning a
lost "mother," but also the uncertainty that shrouds him as
he is immersed in the "dark waters of the beginning." This
situation of lonesomeness and uncertainty is dealt with
again in "Water Maid” (i), where the last four lines typify

the "super pository method":

 

38Lustra of Ezra Pound, with Earlier Poems (New York,

1957). p. 27.

39Ibid.

401bid.. pp. 49—50.

41Ezra Pound, p. 24.

 

 

 

 

 

hardly

are ver
by the
"Shadow

haZ}? ah

effecti
99$ 1:
same ti
poet) "
“able :7.
ILEHCe t

 

 

106

Shadow of rain

over sunbeaten beach,

shadow of rain

over man with woman.

Okigbo's extraordinary power of image—making can

hardly be better illustrated. The words in this passage
are very ordinary, but the combination and texture effected
by the poet's fertilising imagination is more than ordinary.
"Shadow of rain" here means cloud, and one under a cloud is
hazy about everything, visibility being obstructed. Equally
effective are the two closing lines of "Transition" (Heavens-
ggpg, p. 39) which round off the poem and the book at the
same time with their vivid images. After the "heron" (the
poet) "thrown against the infinite" has woven "her intermi-
nable mystery/under the lamp," the work of art is suspended,

hence the "Transition." At this point, quite analogously:

The moon has now gone under the sea.
The song has now gone under the shade.

The parallelism is not only effective in itself as
a poetic device, but also it exemplifies another technique
shared by Pound and Okigbo, and that is "intensification by

repetition."42

In Limits II, the last line—-"A green cloud
above the forest," and the last line of Limits X--"& the
cancelling_out is complete"——are more examples of the "super

pository method." These lines have already been commented

on elsewhere in this paper.

 

42Fraser, Ezra Pound, p. 43.

 

quite ab
the them
of other
also has
II of th
Shriek O
the expo
Cedes it
descende
remains"
Vision 1

ing pict

entire 1
atiQn, a‘

whiCh r0.

 

 

107

Another poem by Okigbo vindicates this technique
quite abundantly. "Lament of the Drums" which rehearses
the themes of oppression, captivity and suffering, robbery
of others' right and freedom, and the resultant desolation,
also has in it very fine examples of the device.43 In part
II of this poem the reader hears of "the unheard of sullen/
Shriek of the funerary ram" which is the clinching point of
the exposition of the situation of oppression that pre-
cedes it. Also in respect of the desolation that has
descended upon the people, the reader is told that "nothing
remains" and that there are the "broken tin—gods whose/
Vision is dissolved" in part III. Then follow the summaris-
ing pictures:

Like PALM oil fostered
In an ancient clay bowl:
A half-forgotten name;
Like a stifled sneeze.

In part V there is the epictorial resume of the
entire infertility and destruction which punctuate the situ-
ation, and this is given in parallel, analagous images,
which round off the poem:

THE WAILING is for the fields of crop. . . .
THE DRUMS' lament is:
They grow not. . . .

THE WAILING is for the fields of men. . . .

FOR THE barren wedded ones
For the perishing children. . . .

 

43Transition, IV, 18 (1965), 16—17.

 

 

And thrOr

  
 

"I am thc
self dep_
such Viv
terseneS
minor, 5‘

elliptic

HEaV ,
w ‘

Also We .

 

5s fol, e

Okigbo a:

 

 

108

THE WAILING is for the great river. . . .
HER POT—bellied watchers
Despoil her. . . .

One may also see this technique amply used in
“Distances," a poem in which Okigbo lavishes his power of
image—making and melody—making. After portraying the dead
bodies around “Death," for instance, there follow the lines:

She bathes her knees in the blood of attendants,

her smock in the entrails of the ministrants. . . .

(Sec. II)

And throughout the poem one continues to hear the refrain-—
"I am the sole witness to my homecoming," a line which it-
self depicts the eeriness of the situation. By means of
such vivid images, Okigbo is able to maintain the rule of
terseness very effectively.

There are other techniques, which can be called
minor, such as the reversed order of subject and verb, and
ellipticism. In canto XXXVI, for example, we hear this:

Cometh he to be

When the will

From overplus

Twisteth out of natural measure.
Heavensgate, "Initiation“ (ii), presents such a syntax:

. . . where liveth

in the heart of Aguata

a minstrel. . . .
Also we noticed the same technique in "Singeth jadum the

minstrel,“ and yet again in "singeth jadum from Rockland."

As for ellipiticism, it can be illustrated from any work of

 

Okigbo and from the major ones of Pound——Hugh Selwyn Mauberley

and The Cantos.

 

 

this me1
mock-bit

strong 5

.4
«“4;

i
.

Incc
word
of a
do n

the arti

and othe.

 

 

 

 

 

109

One has the tendency to feel that the reason for
this method is the fact that Pound insists on terseness—-"the
mock—bitter sententious terseness, . . . the laconism of a
strong silent man." This is how Wyndham Lewis described
it.44 And pound himself said as follows:

Incompetence will show in the use of too many
words. The reader's first and simplest test
3f an author will be 2g look for words that

o no function. . . .

Finally we come to the technique that can be called
the artistic placenta between Pound and Okigbo, and that is
the point with which we started--tags from other languages
and other authors. Okigbo makes this influence of Pound

on him dramatic by taking a line from Pound, who himself is

noted for that kind of thing. Mauberley and The Cantos are

 

 

full of lines from Greek, Latin, and French. The Chinese

ideogram is also frequent in The Cantos. Where such lines

 

appear, they are very significant in meaning: "Kalon

Aoidiaei" is the Greek for "The Beauty of her Singing,”

which is the bewitching song of Circe that wooed Odysseus
46

and his crew into her house to be transformed into swine.

In Mauberley (1920) the tag "Vacuous exercet aera morsus"—-

 

 

44Ibid., p. 90.

45ABC of Readipg, p. 63.

46Walter Sutton. ed. Ezra Pound: A Collection of
Critical Essays, p. 66.

 

 

mouth sn.
Mauberlej

his own:

And the E

 

 

 

 

110

mouth snapping emptily in the air—-is used to describe
Mauberley's inability to follow the old tradition, or create
his own:

Pisanello lacking the skill
to forge Achaia.

And the epigraph at the beginning of the second poem is in
French:

Qu'est ce qu'ils savent de l'amour, et
qu'est ce qu'ils peuvent comprendre?

This is a good opening for a poem that deals with the theme
of inability to respond to love's invitation.

In the same way, Okigbo has taken many lines from
various sources besides the one from Pound's canto VIII.
"Lacrimae Christi" and "Lumen Mundi” which appear in

Heavensgate, "Lustra" (iii), are Latin tags connected with

 

the Bible. "Lumen mundi"-—Light of the world--is taken from
John, 9:5:

As long as I am in the world,
I am the world's light.

This reminds one of "Lumen Christi'I which is chanted on
Holy Satuday. Lustra itself means purificatory sacrifice,
and this section of the book deals with the reminiscences
of both the Christian and the indigenous systems of worship.
"Lacrimae Christi"--Tears of Christ--reminds us of the
instances in which Christ wept in the Bible: during the
Agony in the Garden of Gethsemane (Mark, 14:32-42); the

Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem (Luke, 19:41-44); and the Death

 

i
J

 

 

 

111

of Lazarus (John, 11:33—35). Throughout Heavensgate the
poet has mourned, and as we remember the tears of Christ, we

also should remember the tears of the poet.

Conclusion

It is thus clear that Christopher Okigbo has been
greatly influenced by Ezra Pound. But it is equally clear
that Okigbo is not a mere imitator of Pound, and that
Okigbo's poetry is perfectly African.

Okigbo is not merely imitating Pound, for whatever
stylistic trait, or line he takes from Pound or any other
source, he makes his own by his creative deftness. What
Hugh Kenner says of T. S. Eliot's method can very appropri—
ately apply to Okigbo's:

For Eliot's method again and again is to deprive
of its context some perfectly natural statement,
or else some quotation, and leave the words to
echo by themselves, often in a new context, where
the echoes multiply.47

Finally, as for the "Africanness" of Okigbo's poetry,
his themes of religious conflict, the suppression of the
artist, and the whole notion of "exile" and ”homecoming,"
show that the problems which Okigbo has handled are those

that an African of his type and time could have faced.

Besides, most of the images in Okigbo's poems are drawn on

 

47T. S. Eliot: A Collection of Critical Essays
(Englewood Cliffs, N.J., 1962). P. 7.

 

 

 

 

the indi

the ways
writer c

influenc

 

 

 

the indigenous culture and environment. Those are some of

the ways, it seems to this writer, in which an African
writer can make his work African in spite of foreign

influence.

 

 

CHAPTER V

A CROSS OF HANDS ON HEAD: THE POETRY
OF JOHN PEPPER CLARK
Hands over my head,
Down our village lane

I ran. . . .
("Hands Over Head")

General Observation

Grief, chaos, insecurity, and irredeemable loss con—
stitute the general woof and warp of the deftly textured
fabric that is Clark's poetry. Whether the reader looks at
it from the position of the inhabitants of the small—pox
ridden village, or that of the young man who has realised
that "passion is fuel," or of those humans whose “flux" in
life is "that interlocking of our souls with the stars"; nay,
the reader may vary his position and get into the shoes of
that fallen soldier who left "all the world blinded/And
baffled in searing pain," or of the parent of the "child
born to die"; still the same tragic vision of life passes
before our gaze as Clark runs with his hands over his head
from poem to poem. Perhaps, one of the canons Clark might

have inherited from T. S. Eliot is that

113

 

 

114

. . . the essential advantage for a poet is

not, to have a beautiful world with which to

deal; it is to be able to see beneath both

beauty and ugliness; to see the boredom, and

the horror, and glory.1
Like Eliot's, Clark's poetry can be said to be "eloquent of
his vision of the boredom and the horror,"2 and has depicted
glory and beauty less than ugliness.

Writing on Dante, Eliot says:

The contemplation of the horrid or sordid or

disgusting, by an artist, is the necessary and

negative aspect of the impulse toward the pursuit

of beauty. But not all succeed as did Dante in

expressing the complete scale from negative to

positive. The negative is the more importunate.
As we will see in this study, Clark remains negative almost
throughout his poetry, but all the same he addresses the
whole of humanity as Dante did. In his book, America Their
America, which I may call an artistically wrought diary of
his experiences in the United States—-social, political,
educational, journalistic, ethical and moral, and aesthetic--
Clark says that his "play was simply for human beings every-

where and about human beings who happened to be in one

particular place and situation."4 This very aptly applies

 

1The Use of Poetry and the Use of Criticism (London,
1948). P. 106.

2George Williamson, A Reader's Guide to T. S. Eliot
(New York, 1962), p. 57.

3The Sacred Wood: Essays on Poetry and Criticism
(New York, 1964), p. 169.

4(London, 1964), p. 65.

 

115

to his poetry, and in making this statement he very much
echoes A.R. Humphreys: "The truth of human nature (the
basic quest of literature) lies not in idiosyncrasies but
in common humanity."5 A critical and unbiased study of
Clark's poems will demonstrate what Clark does and how he

does it.

Man in Chaos

 

The stress under which man on earth lives shows
abundantly in "For Granny (From Hospital),”6 where something
"stirred within your soul," and "you with a start strained
me to breast." The memory that comes back to the poet is
that of "the raucous voice" of rain that tumbled down "banks
of reed/To feed a needless stream." The "banks of reed," as
in Okigbo (see p. 87 above), connote an unwelcome situation
shadowing forth the weakness of man caught up in a whirlwind
of “quarrels" which mark the "endless dark nights of intrigue/
In Father's house of many wives.” And here side by side with
the reminiscence of the polygamous structure of a Nigerian

family, with all its dangers, is the forestalling of the

 

5Boris Ford. eds From Dryden to Johnson: Volume 4
of the Pelican Guide to English Literature (Baltimore, 1963),
p. 15.

 

6J. P. Clark, Poems (Ibadan, Nigeria, 1964), p. 10;
anthologised with variants in Ademola's Reflections, p. 59;
and in Moore and Beier's Modern Poetry from Africa, p. 88,
without variants. From now on all references to Clark's
Poems will be indicated in the body of this study in paren—
theses.

 

- we c 1...... a" page. 1.4.-iii . .

 

 

"vice Of

from" it.

problema

l
i
i

this COT.

Providir

 

 

116

"vice of night" which the morning has come "to charm earth
from" in "Ibadan Dawn" (Poems, p. 27). But life is not
problematic only because of the struggles on earth; the
heavenly bodies, "those footless stars," also help to com-
plicate matters by making "shallow silten floors/Beyond the
pale of muddy waters/Appear more plumbless than the skies."

"For Granny" is all an inquiry into, and a wonder at,
this confused state of existence. The next poem, instead of
providing an answer, presents more dramatically a woman
struggling against nature and poverty. ”Night Rain" (p. 11)
is a sad poem, whose tragic overtones move from a state of
stupor and inertia to that of "free" and "innocent" inaction.
The roof of the house is thatched and decayed and cannot
provide shelter for the woman with her children, or for her
belongings, "bins, bags and rats"——an indication of her
poverty. Prayer is of little help in the circumstance, and
may be as perturbing as the "water drops" which the poet
compares to the "beads I could in prayer tell."

"Night Rain" is structured not only on the conflict
just seen between the woman and nature, but also on contrast
and replication. As the mother is busy "deploying" about
the “roomlet,” the children sleep on "loosening mats" on the
floor (another pointer to poverty). If they stir at all,
they only bob "up bellywise," but most of the disturbed time,
they "have drunk to—night of a spell." The word "drunk,"

objectified by the words 'owl' and 'bat' that are noted for

 

 

sleepine
echo of
This is
who in t

notice a

seen not

ent reas

r)
C)

fitment s

 

 

 

 

117

sleepiness and are ”wet of wings and may not fly," is an
echo of "Doped," and these two words meet again in "spell."
This is the drowsy state of people drugged as by a narcotic,
who in the face of calamity are ineffective—~something we
notice again in "Easter" (p. 33) and "Ivbie” (pp. 44 ff).
The indigenous setting and imagery of this poem have
been noted by a major Nigerian novelist. For quite a differ—
ent reason and in a different circumstance, Chinua Achebe
comments on the following lines from the poem:
Out of the run of water
That like ants filing out of the wood
Will scatter and gain possession
Of the floor. . . .
Says Achebe:
I think that the picture of water spreading on
the floor, "like ants filing out of the wood“
is beautiful. . . . But Clark's inspiration
derives from the same source which gave birth
to the saying that a man who brings home ant—
ridden faggots must be ready for the visit of
lizards.7
Both images-—Clark's and Achebe's--show how significantly an
African writer can tap the resources of his indigenous cul-
ture and experience, and still write in a second (European)
language and speak to the whole of mankind.
To turn to another poem, the victims in "Hands Over
Head" (p. 14) have a chain of troubles around them. The

epidemic is such a terrible one that "none must cry for

dread"; the rude violence of the A.D.O. (Assistant District

 

7"English and the African Writer." Transition, IV!
18 (1965): 29.

 

 

Officer:
swarming

them awe

now for
when a i

farm, he

as to WI“.
tne king
(‘One of

l it
He Who

acquiESC£

“’09 and

tikeS a h

 

 

118

Officer) forces "royal silence" on the people, and bees are
swarming over the land. Normally the people would drive
them away by beating "roof—zinc and brassfl'but they cannot
now for there is "enough below for pain.“ It is said that
when a farmer discovers something more important than his
farm, he sells his barn:

In the last stanza of this poem is the speculation
as to what might have been the cause of this calamity-—is it
the king, God, or something more? Is it Okuakpolokpolo,
("one of the titles of the Oba of Benin")? The title means
'"He who asks for a hundred human heads today" and gets them:'
As usual the people cannot avert the disaster, but silently
acquiesce with subdued ease. "Hands—over—head" is a sign of
woe and irrevocable loss. It does not matter who the cause
may be——"When he's done, we shall sing."

Clark, as he watches these ugly scenes of life,
takes a mental trip back to his childhood, the echoes of
which sadly plague the mind. He discovers that with birth
is announced the accompanying sorrow. In his Song of a Goat,
a tragedy, the poet hints at this point, which is presented
again in "Cry of Birth" (p. 15):

You know now that each day we live
Hints at why we cried out at birth.

Likewise, in the poem we find the "echo of childhood . . ./

rolling back into piquant memory/the anguished cry of my

 

8(Ibadan, 1961), p. 41.

 

 

119

birth." He would that he remembers not this "voice“ coming
from "the caverns of nativity," which "returns with a sharp—
ness before unknown."

With this setting given, the poem develops the
favourite theme of life as a tragedy, a state of spiritual
stupor and incessant material pursuits, and winds up in the
last stanza with the reverberating noises of factions “from
the wilderness" and the sea. The last four stanzas smack of
Matthew Arnold. The third stanza has the line ”Poor cast-
aways to this darkling shore"; the fourth comes up with
". . . with wanton motions bedevilling our breast"; in the
fifth we hear "one harrowing shriek of pain and factions“;
and in the final stanza we again hear ". . . the vague
cogitation of the sea, its echo of despair and stress.“

This cannot be a mere coincidence. The reader needs
only to look at "Dover Beach" and "The Scholar-Gipsy” in
order to see how much of Matthew Arnold goes into the making
of Clark's poem. Thus I'Dover Beach":

And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
(11.34—36)
Clark has "darkling shore," “Shriek of pain and factions."
The time is "night" in both cases. About the sea Arnold
talks of "the grating roar/0f pebbles which the waves draw

back, and fling" (11.9—10), and "its melancholy, long,

 

 

wi t‘r‘. dr aw 1
”vague C
As for C]

"gadfly,'

Bef:
Wit?
Its
Fly

1

 

 

120

withdrawing roar" (1.25).9 This is echoed by Clark's
“vague cogitation/of the sea, its echo of despair and stress."
As for Clark's "wanton motions bedevilling our breasts" and
"gadfly," we can also find their predecessors in Arnold's
lines from "The Scholar—Gipsy":

Before this strange disease of modern life,

With its sick hurry, its divided aims,

Its heads o'ertax'd, its palsied hearts, was rife-—

Fly hence, our contact fear. 10
(11.203-206)

"Cry of Birth" is quite a beautiful poem. It

achieves unity in three ways. The lines in each stanza

rhyme alternately. Secondly, "anguish“ in the first stanza,

the crying "voice" of the second, the "horror" and "guilt“

in the third, the "stupor," "wild" and "nightmare" of the
fourth, the "passions," "gadfly," and ”pain" in the fifth,
and the "cogitation," ”despair and stress“ of the last

stanza--a11 speak of the one restless, diseased and horrible
world of materialistic humanity. Finally, the poem carries
forward the idea of "doped" and “spell" of "Night Rain,” of
the "dark night of intrigues" of I’For Granny," and antici~
pates the ”irresistible blight" of "The Watermaid," (p. 23),
so that it forms a unity with these other poems. As a gadfly

is an insect that stings and annoys, so is "blight" a

 

9The Works of Matthew Arnold, Vol. II (London, 1903),
pp. 56-57.

10The Works, I, 227-238.

 

 

 

disease,

gadfly i]
factions

HF“

ine Was

Circumst

Split an
Clark Of
Sympathy
the she:
and

Char

 

Charge .

“H

thOhnh II

 

 

 

121

disease, or evil influence. Incidentally, ". . . and for
gadfly have at my back/one harrowing shriek of pain and
factions-—” is reminiscent of T. S. Eliot's lines, from
"The Waste Land":

But at my back from time to time I hear
The sound of horns and motors, . 11

and through Eliot back to Andrew Marvell's "To his Coy
Mistress":

But at my back I alwaies hear

Times winged Charriot hurrying near:

And yonder all before us lye

Desarts of vast Eternity. 12
(11.21—24)
Circumstances are different with each of the three poets,
but each is dealing with a world far from pleasant.

If the world of Clark's poetry is so dark, so wrung,
split and restive, can men not bring relief to one another?
Clark of course does not see the likelihood. Thus, lack of
sympathy among human beings constitutes the theme of one of
the shortest of Clark's poems, but one of the most powerful
and charged, it seems to me. By a simple analogy, "Empathy"
launches very precisely and acutely against humanity a
charge of apathy. All five fingers belong to one hand, and

though they are separate the harm done to one reaches the

others. In the same way we should feel the pain being

 

11"The Fire Sermon,” 11, 196-197.

12The Poems and Letters of Andrew Marvell, Vol. I,
ed. H. M. Margoliouth (Oxford, 1952), p. 26.

 

iliilllulllllnllil, 1 lamina).

 

suffered by every other man, for we are all from “one stock."

If we feel the pain, then we can sympathize, but unfortu-
nately we do not:

Out of one stock we came

Yet when lame,

Your lowest cry falls numb

In my heart.
The heart of man is proof against the sorrowful cry of his
neighbour. The satirical tone of the poem rings with a
piercing horror, and its terseness fulfills one of the
requirements of great poetry, which is, "that it should hold
'an ocean of thought in a drop of language.”13

While "Two Seedlings" presents twin victims of the

stress of life, it touches upon what might look like a clash
of colonial and indigenous forces. The "ancestral crest/sunk
in the wake of blunder," which one of the children tries to
"rear again," is reminiscent of the process of suppression of
the indigenous customs by the missionaries in West Africa
during the colonial days. Further, this seems to be indi-
cated by the tearing "adrift" of the children from "their
mother's breast": This latter image appears again in ”To a
Prodigal” (p. 37). The theme of cultural conflict so

slightly hinted at here as it has been in "Hands Over Head"—-

the A.D.O. being a representative of the "oppressive"

 

13A. C. Ward, Twentieth Century English Literature
1901-1960 (London, 1964). P. 159.

 

 

cclonia

“Ivbie'

unlike
daring.

up “1n

 

 

 

123

colonial masters—~is accentuated to a tragic intensity in
“Ivbie" (p. 44), which we will study later.

The two seedlings-—children-—of the present poem,
unlike other sufferers in Clark's poetry, are active and
daring. But their fateful life is doomed. They are caught
up "in the weed" and "self-stifled," and being all the time
separated, they now meet again, but quite "outspent" and
drowned in the "annulling sea.“ They are heroic and altru-
istic though, for they perish in "loud vicarious agony.”

We can even now begin to notice some establishment
of rhyme patterns in Clark's poetry, at least in four-line—
stanza poems. "Two Seedlings" departs from the pattern of
"Cry of Birth,” but resumes that of "Hands Over Head," which
will be seen again in "Tide Wash” (p. 23) and other poems.
The rhyme pattern of these poems is abba. However, the
second and third lines of the last stanza of "Hands Over

Head" do not form a perfect rhyme:

. . . more
. . . Okuakpolokpolo.
One more point may be made about "Two Seedlings.” In

the last line of the third stanza is the word "votices,"
which this writer thinks should read "vortices." This kind
of spelling mistake is also made in ”Girl Bathing" (p. 13),
where we have "irridiscent" instead of the correct "irides-
cent.“ It is hard to say whether such a mistake is authorial

or compositorial.

 

 

124

"Tide-Wash" (p. 23) and “The Water Maid“ (p. 23)
placed one after the other, are complementary to each other.
Both have to do with water, sea, and energy--spiritual,
physical, erotic or otherwise. Like "Night Rain," "Tide-
Wash" contains words that are linked together. "Steam,”
that is energy or force, of the first stanza is antitheti-
cally echoed by ”depleted" in the second stanza. "Sun" and
”pulse" (stroke) are also linked. At the end of the poem
"we stand/Exposed more than ever."

Thus energy is lost, and in "The Water Maid" a
prayer is addressed to the Maid for replenishment. Loss of
energy leads to thirst, so that there is the need for "water
whole” to "slake slake my soul." The use of "soul" makes
one think that the thirst may be a spiritual one. The pro-
tagonist is assailed by an "irresistible blight“ which is
"sapmeal eating him." Grief in the two poems consists in
depletion and want, and though the protagonist of the second
poem prays to the Maid, there is no certainty of any help,
and he may surely "dry" and "shall instant die."

Clark is deeply interested in words with respect to
both sense and sound. The trick of word echoing word either
synonymously or antonymously links him with Dylan Thomas who
is famous for this kind of thing. In "The Force That Through

The Green Fuse Drives The Flower,"14 for instance, "mouthing"

 

14Collected Poems, p. 10.

s-xf area-Jr.-

 

in th
sucks

"leecl

both

 

 

 

in the second stanza is echoed by “to mouth" and "mouth

sucks" in the same stanza; and ”sucks" is reflected again by
"leech" while the idea of ”mouth" is seen again in "1ips"-—
both in the fourth stanza. In the same fashion "shroud“ of
the third stanza comes back in the "sheet" of the last
stanza. But the fourth stanza of "If I Were Tickled By The
Rub of Love" curiously effects this linking of words by
splitting them. Hence we notice "lock" at the end of the
second line and "jaws” at the end of the third, which form
"lockjaws." Also "butter" and "flies" separately used in
the fifth lines can normally combine to form “butterflies":

. . . not crow's-foot nor lock

Of sick old manhood on the fallen jggg,

Time and the crabs and the sweethearting crib
Would leave me cold as butter for the flies.15

 

Though there exists this kind of similarity between their
use of words, Clark is quite a different poet from Dylan
Thomas.

Hitherto the movement in each poem has been more or
less from strife to grief and from inertia to greater languor.
As a sort of "dramatic" relief, "The Year's First Rain"
depicts a situation where the movement is reversed. It
becomes now from death to life, from sterility to fertility.
This simple poem, which deals with the ordinary change of
season—-from the dry to the wet season--brings the foreign

and the indigenous together and by so doing universalises

 

15Ibid., p. 14.

 

 

 

126

both. The idea of waiting for rain smacks of Eliot. In
both "Gerontion" and "The Waste Land" we see the possible
origin of Clark's lines and idea, that is to say, from the
point of view of history.

"Gerontion" opens with

. . . an old man in a dry month 16
Being read to by a boy, waiting for rain.

In Clark we read:

Rain Comes . . .
After long surcease in desert.

Yet there are these differences that while Gerontion is
dying of spiritual thirst, there is only the physical thirst
for water in "The Year's First Rain,“ and secondly that
while Gerontion ends up in failure with "thoughts of a dry
brain in a dry season," success clinches Clark's poem when

All alone, earth yawns, limbers her stay,
Swollen already with the life to break at day.

As for the images of dryness, we see them also in
"The Waste Land," a poem of quite a different calibre from
Clark's but really ”Gerontion" on a much larger scale. In
the "Burial of the Dead" one hears of the "dry stone no
sound of water"; and in "What The Thunder Said" there are
the lines:
Here is no water but only rock

Rock and no water and the sand road1
(11.331—332) 7

 

16The Complete Poems and Plays, p. 23.

17Ibid., p. 47.

 

 

We thus

defini:

Eliot 1
There 1

"All a;

(f)

evenly
tives ;
and dis
form OR
the nex

adIECti

 

Come to
t0 prOI‘y

fire t}.
have t]

na‘r‘e ll :

923.33

,.
p.

i

\7
4 SW Y

 

127

We thus see that while echoing the English poet, Clark is
definitely "about" an experience in West Africa. But he has
so projected it that it assumes a universal tone.

Clark's two masters converge on this poem. Just as
Eliot is found in it, so is G. M. Hopkins found in it also.
There is alliteration in ”while waiting, waiting inert“; in
"All alone . . . limbers . . .," and in "thrusts he strokes
. . . swamps . . ." with the six '3' sounds distributed
evenly among three words. There are also multi-worded adjec—
tives like "with-kestre1—together—leaf" qualifying "flaps,"
and also "more than tongue can tell," all of which words
form one adjective qualifying "thrusts" at the beginning of
the next line. Mr. Beier calls these "double barreled
adjectives."18 There is no doubt that here we have Hopkins
come to life again. Almost any poem of Hopkins can be used
to prove this; so one may suffice in the circumstance. In
"The Wreck of The Deutschland" we see the following lines:
”. . . the sodden-with-its-sorrowing heart" (stanza 27);
here the strung words qualify "heart," and in stanza 34 we
have the following qualifying Christ, the "double-natured
name":

The heaven—flung, heart—fleshed, maiden—furled

Miracle—in-Mary-of—flame, 19
Mid-numbered He in the three of the thunder-throne!

 

l8"Three Mbari Poets," Black Orpheus, No. 12, p. 48.

19Poems of Gerard Manley Hopkins, ed. W. H. Gardner
(New York, 1961), pp. 55-67.

 

 

These 1

alliter

 

Squirr

 

128

These lines also serve to vindicate Hopkins' addiction to
alliteration.

Many a time Clark appears merely lyrical on the sur-
face, but beneath this veneer of light lyricism lies the deep
note of a tearful voice. This is what we find in "Return of
the Fishermen" (p. 30) and "Streamside Exchange" (p. 31).
The first stanza of the former presents the picture of the
fisherman coming out from the sea as the job of fishing is
done. This is patterned on details of fishing equipment--
"pins and needles," and on Hopkins—like alliteration——
"Dabble, dabble, dip paddle blades" describing the fishing
action. But the coming out from the sea of the fishermen is
not done with joy, for "silent you furrow up from the sea."
The word "furrow" gives a vivid image of struggling out of
the sea. It is the evening time, with the sun setting, and
squirrels happily "tick—twit . . . and stow their seeds.“
But amid the normal run of natural phenomena I‘low is the.
squirming down keel." The last stanza shows the Kingfisher,
not often the friend of the fisherman, and it is this bird
that announces the sorrow of the men:

Come, said the Kingfisher, you feel
Beat. . . .

The fishermen are beaten, hence their silence, their chagrin,
their sorrow.

"Streamside Exchange" is of the nature of a singsong
between a child and a bird. There seems to be nothing

serious about the poem as the child asks the bird to sing to

 

 

129

him "a song of all that pass/And say,/Will mother come back
today?" But this question is not quite a trifle. The mater-
nal image is of significance in Clark. It has been seen in
"For Granny," "Two Seedlings," and will again be seen in "To
A Prodigal"; and in most cases the loss of a mother, or the
estrangement of a child from its mother is involved. In the
same way in this poem the child is assured of the imperma—
nence of his mother's stay on earth:

You cannot know

And should not bother;

Tide and market come and go

And so has your mother.
The "has" of the last line is confirmatory. "Time and mar-
ket" still "come and go"-—actions in the present tense; but
the child's mother has completed her rounds, and is there-
fore gone forever, hence the perfect tense "has [come and
gone]."

William Wordsworth in "The Tables Turned" says that
Nature's "love" is sweet, but that ”our meddling intellect/
Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things:—/We murder to
dissect." Dissection in itself is not bad, but murder may
result therefrom. Assuming therefore that dissection is
normally good, in this poem it has only succeeded in bring-

ing evil about.20 Similarly, Clark's "Tree" (p. 32) depicts

 

20The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, Vol. IV,
ed. E. De Selincourt and Helen Darbishire (Oxford, 1947),
p. 57.

 

a case

ically
One is

Clark'

poem.
provid

breaki

 

PrOtec

Mphahi
meanir
The p.
thEme

the a

It is
for ‘
line
tee,
led

Sinai

 

130

a case where even in the process of curing, a man, paradox-
ically, causes the “death" of a tree. This is frustrating.
One is tempted to ask: Can man ever do well in the world of
Clark's poetry?

Another image of sorrow intensifies the gloom of the
poem. People lie under the tree "as grass," and the tree
provides them shelter with "its bower." So that with its
breaking "with a snap," the people are also left without
protection.

Commenting on the poetry of J. P. Clark, Ezekiel
Mphahlele rightly remarks that the poet piles up "layers of
meaning. The statement mounts in urgency toward the end."21
The poem ”Tree" shows this kind of systematic pursuit of
theme to the end of the poem. In such a poem Clark exposes
the action early in the poem:

A tree has broken in the lull
The most bouyant in all the forest.

It is not in the storm that the tree breaks. This is curious,
for it goes against the normal. All this is further under-
lined by the fact that it is the ”most bouyant" of all the
trees in the neighbourhood. After such exposition, one is
led step by step to see how the tree got broken. In its own

snail way, this is the method of beginning in medias res.

 

21Ademola. ed. Reflections, p. 10.

 

L1-

 

constit'

be hart
protagc
seedsof
finally
“thrall
a postu

and he

 

b8fore
0!
of
but
dup

harveS1
dBath j
Still'
kingdc
Who WC
taREH
again

this

 

131

Struggle in despair, silence in thraldom, and death
constitute the message of”Easter“(p. 33). To die means to
be harvested by God. So God or death is the reaper. The
protagonist is like a "seed, cast out in turmoil." The twin
seedsof "Two Seedlings" suffered the same fate and were
finally annulled. Here the protagonist is further in
"thrall" and sits in silence with his "hook—feet" drawn in—-
a posture signifying dejection. His fate is a fait accompli,
and he defeats death, the "reaper," being already lifeless
before the reaper knocks on his door to harvest him:

01 hear the reaper's cry! the rap

of his crook on the door—-

but the poor

dupe! op'ning, shall find bats far gone with my sap.

Another possible interpretation of death as the
harvest of God may be the Christian's attitude to death,
death being a kind of birth into eternity. In this sense
still, God, so to say, harvests the souls of men into His
kingdom. The disappointed "reaper" then becomes the devil,
who would like to claim man‘s soul, but finds it already
taken to heaven. The reference to Easter, when Christ rose
again from death and ascended into heaven seems to support
this View° If this were so, there should not be the note of
failure and disillusionment that rings through the poem.
There should not be that "serious concern of J. P. Clark's

22

“Easter," which Obi Wali pointed out. In the final

 

22"Criteria other Than Linguistic," Seminar Paper,

w

e
(4

 

 

 

 

analys

sad pi

in whi
of eac
closi:
the f:
has e1
0th s
This v

Which

tO ins
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Sibil;

r 1"
ll)
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ChiCke
POint

think

bmals:
it? th
as has
to re:
making

exfimp;

 

 

 

QOriCa

 

 

132

analysis "Easter" remains, like most of Clark's poems, a
sad piece ending on a tragic note.

Clark experiments with another stanzaic pattern here,
in which short and longer lines alternate. The opening line
of each stanza contains only two monosyllabic words, and the
closing line of each is the longest in it° The last line of
the first stanza has ten syllables, and that of the second
has eleven. The rhyme scheme follows the same pattern in
both stanzas: ababcddc, and the rhymes are all perfect.
This vindicates the consciousness and conscientiousness with
which this poet effects his craftsmanship.

The rhetorical question is another method Clark uses
to instill into our minds the certainty of his convictions.
It generally implies certainty of failure, and the respon-
sibility of each person to realise this. One will be mis-
taken if he fails to recognize that he is "caught/ like
chicken in the storm.” "To A Prodigal" uses this method to
point out to the addressee in the poem that it is futile to
think he “will go suck milk prest/again on your mother's
breast." The title word "Prodigal" makes one have the feel-
ing that this poem is addressed to Christopher Okigbo, who
as has been remarked in Chapter IV, is a ”prodigal" seeking
to return to his mother ”Idoto." Clark, like himself, after
making the point in the first stanza, develops it with
examples in the three middle stanzas, and summarizes cate—

gorically in the final one.

-— -- ‘.- _
.-. fl'fl.£--...~.‘
G . _I. “E. a ”I ,.

 

to plu

in "ba
that h
away :
next 5
advice

in di:

the ”M
"bOUgE
Cleft,

Stanza

Of Cou
the po
Vain 0
which i

mlsSiO

four-1
It is I
“We 5

StYliS.

 

 

133

Stanza II recommends that the addressee put his time
to plucking "cotton/plumes bloated in the sun and tumble
in "basins a-bubble/by the beach." This points to the fact
that he should not take life seriously, but rather while
away the short time in life like a "frisking" flea. The
next stanza continues in the same vein, and introduces the
advice that with the world ". . . you dancing cheer/to sink
in dimple all your tears."

The analogy in stanza IV becomes more serious. Even
the "waves . . . in beds of pearls are sleepless," and
"boughs" become "hoarse" when they are "lightning-forked and
cleft." If this is so the poet then wonders in the last
stanza:

Dare you then wandering caught

like chicken in the storm

seek refuge on a breast

vain outstretched and now will rest?
Of course, the answer the poet anticipates is no. And if
the poem is addressed to a poet like Okigbo, the "breast/
vain outstretched" is of course the indigenous religion
which has been despoiled by colonial administrators and
missionaries.

The regularity of the rhyme scheme noticed in other
four-line-stanza poems breaks down partially in this one.

It is maintained in the first three stanzas, each of which
rhymes in couplets, but in the last two it is varied. No

stylistic reason could be found for this.

 

notice

words
the r?

poem C

 

 

134

"Outside Gethsemane" continues two traits already
noticed in Clark's poetry: the use of symbolic Christian
words as titles, viz, Easter and Gethsemane; and the use of
the rhetorical question technique. Furthermore, the present
poem deals with the theme of the futility of struggling and
the vanity of earthly pursuits, which has been handled in
"To A Prodigal." The method is exactly the same in both
poems and many words or their cognates have been carried

over to the later poem:

"To A Prodigal" "Outside Gethsemane"
Cotton plumes bloated fluff—balls

a—bubble billowing bubbles
lightening-forked thunder's roar/million

splinter'd

tears tears
wandering wandering
vain vanity
beach shore

Gethsemane is the name of the garden where Christ
had the agony that culminated in his death on Calvary. It
is, therefore, a scene of suffering, but while Christ's suf-
fering and death resulted in exultation and men's salvation,
the protagonist of Clark's poem will only end in the "vanity/
of chasing the wind by her skirts," breathing as he does so

the "rank mortality/in million—splinter‘d spurts."

 

 

himsel:
blind J
from t}
tain,

...4

Clark v

 

 

 

135

As usual, man is to blame for his woe, for he caused
himself this grief that necessitates tears of blood, by his
blind and restless pursuits in life. This can be gathered
from the third stanza and the closing couplet, which con—
tain, it seems to me, some of the most powerful lines of
Clark with respect to the theme of the tragic futility of
life:

Had you hearken'd to the thunder's roar
and not drowned his rumbles
in the gross garrulity

of your tooth; You would not since birth

Have sought pollution of the flood
with vain tears of blood:

The "thunder's roar" is reminiscent of T. S. Eliot's "What
The Thunder Said"——section V of'The Waste Land: where the
"Thunder" gives three commands: "Datta" (give); "Dayadhvam"
(sympathise); "Damyata" (control).23 Just as these commands
were not obeyed in“The Waste Land) so was the "thunder's
roar" not listened to in "Outside Gethsemane." It seems to
me that this "roar" is intended by Clark to embrace all
control (passion), for we have seen in “Empathy," and will
see in "Variation on Hopkins, etc." (p. 39) the lack of
sympathy among men, and we will also see the lack of control

of passion in other poems.

 

23The Complete Poems and Plays, p. 49, 11.402, 412,
419.

 

 

I
Gethser

only t?
final c
line 5?
'"Shore

nrmnbld

 

with t‘r

 

136

A different stanzaic form is used in "Outside
Gethsemane.“ It is not only consistently used—-abcd--but
only these rhymes appear throughout the poem except in the
final couplet which rhymes differently. In the three four-
line stanzas of the poem, the first lines rhyme—-"moor,"
-"shore," -"roar"; the second lines rhyme, ”balls," "bubbles,"
"rumbles," though "balls" does not make for a perfect rhyme
with the other words. The third and fourth lines rhyme
perfectly. It is needless to point out that this kind of
arrangement cannot be a work of blind chance, but that of
the wary, meticulous artist who loves, and is involved in,
his art.

Sometimes, Hopkins' influence on Clark is solely
thematic. So in "Variation on Hopkins on Theme of Child
Wonder," which rhymes in couplets but for the ninth line,
concentration will be on theme. The poem, as has been sug-
gested, deals with lack of pity, selfishness, greed among
men, coupled with the inevitability of death. The world is
"so small pity plenished," "self-finished," and "men are
'Paupers‘ . . . over bald bones." Those who have, rather
than stop their greed, will "increase others' need," and
these are "soulful sick/Of stench carrion thick." They
should not blame these poor "foul'd on filth" if they "turn
out styke" (mischievous child), if they revolt against oppres—

sion. But even those who are well off should realise that

 

 

all "g:

sardon;

bv Hopk
Confer:
life t:
even e:
'n both
learns

sleep, "
exact n
hire me
to his

bUt of

 

beComes
in d0uh

has bit

 

137

all "grow to die in this place of vomit." This is rather
sardonic; the earth is a "place of vomit”:

The views expressed by Clark have been touched upon
by Hopkins but in different ways. The sonnet "Carrion
Comfort" shows the protagonist's refusal to despair, even if
life torments and twists him. Hopkins' "bruised bones" is
even echoed by Clark's "bald bones," and "carrion" appears
in both poems.24 In "No worst, there is none," the reader
learns that "all/Life death does end and each day dies with

sleep, for which Clark's last line in his poem serves as an
exact replica. In another sonnet, Hopkins prays that he may
have more pity on his own heart, and be kind and charitable

to his sad self.25

This is the theme of pity and sympathy,
but of a different kind from that dealt with by Clark.

The "self-finished" world of "Variation on Hopkins"
becomes the "earth" which "in womb of night/Is double—torn
in doubt" in "Darkness and Light" (p. 41). This poem which
has birth images and sexual images, also shows that life is
all a restless affair, and we simply ”in our unrest/Vex a
thing of innocence/Budding on virgin breast." The fact that
"light" is "hurtful" to the protagonist indicates he is

about some illegitimate act. But he believes that light

"should seek out ill." We will hear this repeated in

 

24Poems, p. 106.

251bid., p. 110.

 

 

Light"

the ev:
light 5
aclih:
brings
Of "an:
brance
llKE t;
Indeed,
head, 3
Contin;

be dis:

 

 

138

“Ibadaanawn.“ The rhyme pattern is regular throughout the
poem, with the lines rhyming alternately. "Darkness and
Light" is fraught with diverse feelings of the restive world,
the evil-ridden world, the world of erotic desires with
light seeking evils out. This kind of juxtaposition reaches
a clinching point in the short poem "The Outsider“ which
brings together the image of a woman cooking food, and that
of "another spewing urine by the wayside." At the remem—
brance of these scenes which though forgotten reel “back
like tide," the poet wavers "between rage and scorn."
Indeed, right from the time he "ran" with his hands over his
head, he has been raging at, and scorning, life. This he
continues to do in the next group of poems which will now

be discussed.

Man and Eros

"WOmen" are among the "favourite recreations" of
Clark, as gathered from the brief biographical information
written on the cover of America, Their America, and in fact,
as one can gather from sections of the book itself. However,
his erotic poems are not to be taken as constituting a his-
tory of his sexual life. At least, this author does not
intend to see them as such. The line of argument still
remains that even in the sphere of love or passion, man, as

Clark sees him, is in stress; he is still man in chaos; life

 

still 1

logica.
the gr
from a
Whii;f
satir;

to the

form.

the dr
of the
self 0
he! Oh
"trer;
rippli

forest

P1855 t
the p;
atrgr;
a CaSe

lack O

 

 

has be

 

139

still remains a series of interminable struggles, psycho-
logical, mental, physical, and otherwise. The movement in
the group of poems about to be considered is generally

from admiration and wistfulness, through the raging and
whining resulting from unrequited love, and through a witty,
satirical, and cynical attitude towards the world of love,
to the tragic loneliness and desolation of a dejected soul.

"Agbor Dancer" (p. 12) is all music in theme and in
form. As the dancing girl performs her art to the rhythm of
the drums, so does the reader follow with pleasure the music
of the poem, and in fact, both the girl and the reader
become "entangled in the magic/maze of music"—-a line it-
self of exquisite, lyrical perfection. The girl's body has
her own music as "in her heart a descant" is awakened by
"tremulous beats," for "she treads the intricate/Pattern
rippling crest after crest/To meet the green clouds of the
forest." Green is the symbol of life and freshness.

All this however only succeeds in creating a dark—
ness that with the last line of the third stanza falls upon
the poet's soul. The ”virginal habits" of the girl are "too
atrophied for pen or tongue." She is wasting away. This is
a case of maceration. A sense of loss or misuse——rather,
lack of use——falls upon the poet. This is not all. The poet

has been "early sequestered from [his] tribe"; he is a scribe

 

The l:

throb

VEll’lS

 

 

140

tethered as to lead, to foreign, strange ideas, or persons,
and if he could win back his freedom, he "should answer her
communal call" for purposes of, maybe, procreation.
Clark obviously implies here a conflict of cultures.
The local dancer represents the indigenous culture, and "the
throb of a drum“ of the first line goes right down "lineal
veins to ancestral core," but the lead to which the "scribe"
is tethered is representative of the foreign culture.
Sequestration ”from my tribe" points to this conflict. How—
ever, the main point of the poem is his admiration of this
local dancer coupled with a wish to copulate with her. And
Mr. Okogbule Nwanodi, after Clark, celebrates such a dancer
in "Native" where the dancer I'thumbed my nerves/as you weave/
your being into frenzy"; and where she danced herself "into
goddess," her waist "swinging to rhyme/answering the drum.“26
Miss Abiola Irele has suggested a different link.
She finds a resemblance between this poem and some poetry of
the negritude school:
Car, en réalité, qu'est-ce qui donne
au poeme de Clark "Agbor—Dancer" son
pouvoir singulier, c'est l'immense
ampleur des sentiments, l'intense
communion du corps ayec
la terre, que les poetes de la

negritude avaient éprouvées et glorifiées
en des vers. . . .

 

26Icheke (Ibadan, Nigeria, 1964), p. 7.

 

Among

The c:

Besid:
"lead-
tethEI
Priate
What 3
is a p

theme

 

 

Clark!

(p. 13

One kl.“
\
PQet

ry
%

 

141

Among the examples given by Irele is this from Sénghor:

Nous sommes les hommes de la danse

Sont les pieds reprennent viguen:en

frappant de sol dur.

(Priére aux Masques)

The critic continues as follows:

Aucune difference essentielle avec les

vers de Clarks qui sont plus intimes

(moins déclamatiores), ainsi qu'on en

juger par l'extrait suivant:

See her caught in the throb of a drum

Tippling from hide—brimmed stem

Down lineal veins to ancestral core. . . .

. . . Could I, early sequested from my tribe

Free a lead——tethered scribe,

I would answer her communal call,

Lose myself in her warm caress 27

Intervolving earth, sky and flesh.
Besides the words which Irele misquoted——”sequested" and
“lead—tethered," which should be "sequester'd," and "lead-
tether'd," it seems that the comparison is not very appro—
priate; this writer does not want to judge her opinion as to
what gives Clark's poem "son pouvoir singulier," but if there
is a poem by Sénghor which Clark's own resembles both in
theme and diction, it is "Black Woman," and the poem of
Clark's that can be thus matched with it is “Girl Bathing"
(p. 13).

This poem, which this writer shall also link with

one kind of Pre—Raphaelite poetry, describes the girl bathing

 

27“Poems From Black Africa (Langston Hughes); Modern
Poetry from Africa (Gerald Moore and Ulli Beier)," Présence
Africaine, No. 49 (1964), 263—266.

 

 

 

142

in the water with all the power and passion which the poet
can command. Aside from the fact that both in Sénghor and
in Clark the body is nude, or nearly so, there are close
resemblances in words and phrases. The "sweetness of your
hands" in Senghor becomes "deft fingers“ and “unguent flow
of her limbs" in Clark, and “firm—fleshed ripe fruit" in

Senghor finds a replica in Clark's "the fresh/warm smell of

her flesh,“ and "rearing breast/So ripe with joy. . . .
Even the images built around "pearls,“ "gold," "skin,“ etc.
are found in both poems. Thus in Sénghor:

Naked woman, dark woman:

Oil sweet and smooth on the athlete's flanks,

On the flanks of the princes of Mali

Heaven-leashed gazelle, pearls are stars
on the night of your skin

Delights of the spirit at play, red gold reflec—
tions in your shimmering skin.

In the shade of your hair, my anguish lightens
with the nearing suns of your eyes.

And then Clark:

Splash, splash, your teeth flashing pearls,
in the whirlpool

You have made, its lively cool

Waters, lambent through your veins,

A tonic to the core of your bones.

And striding back to land neat

On sands golden at your feet,

How irridiscent29 breaks all

Your porcelain skin to tattoo beads of coral:

 

28African Heritage, ed. Jacob Drachler (New York,
1964), PP. 129-130.

29See the remark on the spelling of this word on
page 123 above.

 

 

 

143

This similarity does not of course make Clark and Senghor the
same kind of poets at all. While Sénghor stresses the black
colour of his lady, Clark praises the general physical beauty
of the girl without even mentioning her colour, and his poem
is more luscious.

If everything were as beautiful as this girl thus
described with all the sensuous and voluptuous images, life,
to Clark, would have been more liveable. But it is not so,
and besides, such life is "for the blest“ only. Thus there
is still no rest for the heart that knows and admires this
piece of beauty. Thus ”Agbo Dancer" and “Girl Bathing" are
purely admiration poems pointing the way to what is to come--
the winning, raging, and scorning that result from frustrated
love adventures. This is what "Olokun" (p. 18) does also.
The whole process is surely reminiscent of the love experi—
ences and poetry of the Elizabethans and the metaphysical
poets of the 17th century.

"Olokun" presents us with a textual problem right at
the outset. In gggms, 1962, the first stanza reads:

I love to pass my fingers
(As tide thro' weeds of the sea
And wind the tall fern-fronds
Thro' the strands of your hair)
Dark as night that screens the naked moon.
In the Moore and Beier anthology, 1963, the stanza becomes:
I love to pass my fingers,

As tide through weeds of the sea.
And wind the tall fern-fronds

 

 

144

Through the strands of your hair
Dark as night that screens the naked moon.

30

The punctuation marks after "fingers" and “sea" here do not
make much sense. The 1962 version was used which appears in
the book of poems supposed to have been revised by Clark
himself. But even in this, the parentheses create a problem.
As the stanza stands, if what is enclosed in the parentheses

is taken away we have something like this:

I love to pass my fingers . .
Dark as night that screens the naked moon.

In this case "Dark" qualifies “fingers.“ But that will be
wrong in the context. This author thinks, therefore, that
the bracket should close after "fern-fronds," so that there
are two analogies within the parentheses. The stanza para-
phrased will then read:

I love to pass my fingers

(as tide passes through weeds of the sea,

and wind passes through tall fern-fronds)

through the strands of your hair——

(hair) which is as dark as night. . . .
In this case, the protagonist will be passing his fingers
through the strands of the girl's hair. This makes sense.

This is a poem of praise and admiration, and at the
same time reflects sorrow. The lady's hair is as “Dark" as
night--an asset; the look of her eyes is a "sable vehicle of

dream.“ The man's love for her is greater than any man else

can have for woman. But in the face of all these

 

30Modern Poetry From Africa, p. 85.

 

 

So drunken, like ancient walls
We crumble, in heaps at your feet

and when she lifts "us," it is only as “beggars to your
breast." One may look on a woman as an ordinary human
being, but still be a beggar before her, asking her for
her love. If he looks on her as a Deity, he is still her
votary. Olokun is the Yoruba "'Goddess of the sea' (a
female Neptune)." It was suspected she might have been
"a god originally?"31

With these three poems the reader is fully prepared
for the more tense ones to come. "Why Should I Rage" (p. 19)
presents a case of failure in love. The protagonist cannot
kindle the fire of love in the lady's heart. By the use of
images and analogies drawn from the local environment, Clark
rehearses his cry of despair. It is hands over head again
for a different reason now:

0 passion has spent his fuel
On wet wood. . . .

One can remember how problematic it is to make a fire with
wet wood during the rainy season when one is back from school
or work to cook his meal: The poem is a song of despair. A
man of faith can strike a "cruel/Fig—tree," but the protag—
onist, choked with "smoke" is "unable in despair/to stifle

a tear."

 

31E. Bolaji Idowu, Olodumare: God in Yoruba Belief

(London, 1962), p. 14.

 

 

146

It is the same self accusation that resounds at the
end of "Olumo Rock" (p. 7). Though the protagonist prays
for "my loving-unloved flesh/That fanned so long in flames
of passion/Lapping futile for consummation/Turns this pillar
of ash," he curses his heart.

But curst be my heart that stubborn
As Joan's yearns and wouldn't burn.

His flesh is loving, but unloved; his flames of passion end

 

in futility for there is no consummation. His heart “yearns,"
but cannot "burn." The reference to Joan of Arc simply
points to the fact that when she was put into the fire, her
heart flew away in the form of a white dove, unburnt.32 The
analogy is not quite appropriate, for the contexts are dif-
ferent.

The image of burning passion continues, and forms the
title of the next poem-—”Passion Is A Fuel“ (p. 20). While
combining the theme of failure in love—-passion being a
"fuel of driving me a rudderless ship/and your friendship”
being "the indifferent cruel sea wherein I drift“--the poem
introduces the theme of secrecy in a love affair. Donne
gives us the image of a lover's tears forming "seas to drowne

34
me in thy spheare"33 and as "teare-floods": also Donne

 

32See Alice Buchan, Joan of Arc and the Recovery of
Ersess (New York, 1948), p. 225.

 

33"A Valediction: Of Weeping." 1°20: in The Complete
Egetry and Selected Prose of John Donne, ed. Charles M.
Coffin (New York, 1952). pp. 30-31.

34"A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning." 106. in The
99mplete Poetry, pp. 38—39.

...—

-'._cl

 

 

147

deals with the theme of secrecy of love: "That love hath
not attain'd the highest degree,/which is still diligent lest

others see."35

Clark also has the “secret of my goddess."
He is bothered that like a bird that lives in a bush full of
fire wood, he is still dying of cold:

but shall I sit on this privileged stool
and not wear beads of coral?

The image is that of a local chief being enstooled.

It goes without saying, that the images in the first
stanza are surely metaphysical conceits. Passion is a fuel,
the protagonist "is a rudderless ship." The girl's friend-
ship, cold and fastidious, is "the indifferent cruel sea,"
and he is merely drifting like Pound's Mauberley.

But here there is a difference. Clark's protagonist
wants to be active. His annoyance results from the fact he
is denied the fruit of love which he is most willing and
anxious to attain. ”New Year” (p. 26) shows his last appeal
to the girl. The images point to diminution. Another ”flood
is finished." "Flood" is consistently used by Clark to mark
time, and this reflects life in the village near a river,
where people keep time by watching the rise and fall of the
water in the river. The lover and the beloved are like two
exhausted "reeds." The lover becomes rationalistic and

logical: sands grow high in leaps daily like "manatees on

 

35"A Lecture Upon the Shadow,” 11.12-13, in The
Complete Poetry, pp. 53-54.

 

148

spree"; even "sexless water lettuce“ enjoy the company of
each other. But in sorrowful contrast to these "you and I
two reeds swaying on/the banks with the wind of world-blight"
will not effect a unification of “our self—split selves."
They do not form a pair of "twin compasses" like Donne and
his beloved.36 The "gadfly" of “Cry of Birth" and the
"irresistible blight” of "The Water Maid“ still pester the
protagonist of "New Year” in the form of "world—blight."

The final warning to the lady comes coupled with the
lover's mounting despair. Like Eliot's in “Prufrock,'I the
thought of age begins to assail him.

Insidious creaks of drying joints

Warn of recessions hard to reach

I wonder this flood in laps of the old

Will long bear aberrants on the beach.
The two are really "aberrants" wandering on the beach of
love's sea, but never reaching the sea. They stray from the
path of normality, and age will overtake them as their ”dry-
ing joints" grow drier.

With this kind of experience, Clark or his protag—
onist grows satiric, witty, and cynical. In America, Their
America we learn that Clark is bitter and insolent.37 This
rudeness which he shows throughout in this prose work takes
another form in "Pub-Song" (p. 22) and in "To A Learned Lady"

(p. 22). In the former, where beneath a beautiful lyric

 

36"A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning," 1.26.

37(London, 1964), p. 209.

 

 

lies the repulsive stench of wenches in "The house of bawds,”

the protagonist combines lascivity and callousness with rude

witticism:
Now the myth is broken
And I wild in the open
What there is left to repent?
The second poem is even more scathing. It is a

dangerous rat which as it bites the leg of a sleeping man
keeps fanning in order to soothe it. Opening with an appeal—
ing tone, this sarcastic song to “my learned lady," develops
and ends on an appalling note. Though the "floods" have
”spanned" a throne for her, though she has got all the educa-
tion possible and is therefore high on the social ladder, she
is still a "handmaid to my mother." It is a common saying
among some Nigerians that

The termite may soar never so high

At last it will fall a prey

To a crawling creature's thigh.

The habit of witty retort and satire shows in Clark's
prose as in his poetry; there is often a superficial appear-
ance which contrasts with the weight of the blow registered
underneath. Clark finds the vending machine enough for the
exercise of his satiric talents.

A dime
in the slot
And anything

from coke to coffee
Spews down your throat

 

 

150

Now, old Moses
for whom, they say,
Mannas fell in the desert,
did he push a button as this,
and who knows at what price?38
As in other instances, the hurting remark is conveyed in a
song, fast and moving. Some words and devices have become
recurrent in Clark: "floods," wit, satire and as shall
later be confirmed, references to the Bible. At this point
the following words of Carlo 1220 may be recalled:
. . . it is true that a lyric poem is, as
Massimo Bontem Pelli put it, "an adventure in
words," but just as there are characters who
get the upper hand of a novelist of playwright,
there can be words or tricks of style that get
the upper hand of a poet.39
In this connexion also it seems that Clark must have
had in mind another poetic creed of T. S. Eliot. Eliot
defines ”wit" as "a tough reasonableness beneath the slight
lyric grace” and an “alliance of levity and seriousness (by

"40 This is what

which the seriousness is intensified).
Clark effects in his lyric-satiric poems and even in his

prose.

 

381bid., p. 192.

39"The Poetry of W. H. Auden," in Auden: A Collec—
tion of Critical Essays, ed. Monroe K. Spears (Englewood
Cliffs, New Jersey, 1964), p. 131.

40Homage to Dryden (The Hogarth Essays, n.d.),
pp. 226 and 229.

 

 

151

"Ring Around the Moon" (p. 28) fittingly brings the
survey of love and passion to an anticipated end. The pro-
tagonist paints a picture of himself and his situation. He
is like a "moon" that "nears a heart/draped in crape."
"Crape" is the word—-a mourning dress: His heart is as
deserted as the moon is by "all her train, save for one
star." The image of a "tribal chief" who has "fallen from
favour and court/of politicians in power" intensifies the
idea of desolation present. The images of blindness shown
by a "bat," darkness and shadow shown by an "umbrellah" are all
apt for the description of a heart from whose gorge of grief
we hear a howl like an angry wolf's:

My heart reflects at noon

This shadow of the moon

hugging desolation

As bats a blasted bough--

an in my canyon breast howl

a song and a vow. . . .
This song or vow is made to the "stars" and "echoed by the
owl." The owl is a bird of ill omen° The song and the vow

remain 'Unspoken to my love.” An adventure crowned with

failure!

 

 

 

152

Man and Nature

 

Clark has endeavoured to absorb everything into his
system. The part played by physical nature in the whole
being of his poetic machinery is quite considerable. He not
only admires nature, which he describes sometimes with lavish
beauty and extravagant imagination, but more importantly
underscores the interrelation between natural phenomena and
human beings. Clark may bask in sunshine, soar into the sky
to commune with the stars or the moon, or dive from there
into the depths of the sea, but all the time his mind is
with humanity.

"Ibadan Dawn" (p. 27) which combines the alliterative
and descriptive diction of G. M. HOpkins with the passion of
Spenser and colour imagery of Shakespeare,41 appears to be a
wanton infatuation with the beauty of Nature. The reader
sees the "mist-hung curtains, a drizzle—damp," which "drew
and fall" apart, and the ”fresh burst of blue, freckled dye,"
and "flakes and flecks"--all of which are reminiscent of
Hopkins' "Pied Beauty" or "The Windhover" in diction. These
are combined with the nuptial and sex symbols in the words
"bride" and "cockerel song." In the midst of these, the morn-
ing has a duty to perform for humanity, which is, "to charm

earth from vice of night." Compare with WOrdsworth:

 

41". . . the morn in russet mantle clad. . . .
Hamlet, I, i } 166.

 

 

 

. . . for I have learned

To look on nature, not as in the hour

Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes
The still sad music of humanity,

Nor harsh, nor grating, though of ample power——
To chasten and subdue. . . 2

In both Clark and Wordsworth, nature has the same duty to
purify humanity.

As for alliteration, it is one of the greatest influ—
ences of Hopkins on Clark. An illustration of this has
already been given in another connexion (p. 128 above), but
here, it seems necessary to give more from "Pied Beauty":

Whatever is fickle, fleckled . . . 43
With swift, slow; sweet, sour: adazzle, dim, . . .

and from "The Windhover,"

I caught this morning morning's minion king— 44
dom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon. . . .

Hopkins is a master of the art of alliteration, and it can
be seen that Clark also has not only mastered this art, but
has made it his own. In his prose also, Clark is no less
alliterative. Commenting on the ”big gothic Grover Cleveland
Memorial Tower" at Princeton, Clark says:

. . . tourist crowds, from outside Princeton

and beyond the State of New Jersey flock to gaze

at this famous structure, and the thrill sent
through them is great indeed . . . when those
relics of a renaissant Europe, all hidden away

in the heavenly heights of the tower, break over
them into some quaint hymn , however out of key. 45

 

 

42"Tintern Abbey," Section IV.

43"Pied Beauty," 11.8-9, in Poems, p. 74.

 

44"The Windhover," 11.1—2, in Poems, p. 13.

 

5America, Their America, pp. 29—30. Italics mine.

 

154

In another instance one hears of the abject woman who is "the
archetypal image of Mother and mourner," and who for "hun-
dreds of years . . . has kept watch, wept and waited. . . ."46

Though a natural phenomenon, Morning, has a dignified
duty of natural purification; in other poems, there are
found descriptions ofcnature for the purpose of depicting
woe, wail and destruction. "Ring Around the Moon,“ as seen
before, presents the images of a moon draped in black and
deserted by stars, and a bat knocking blindly about——all to
show how sorrowful the protagonist's heart is. In "New Moon"
(p. 30), though the "bowl'' is of "silver" and is "high in
space," it holds only "darksome/fruit" and it is ominous "of
days to come." In the same quick breath, the reader sees in
"Ibadan" (p. 31), the commingling of decay and richness—-
"splash of mist/and gold." This is coupled with the noise
of shattering and destruction ". . . scattered/among seven
hills like broken/china in the sun."

Then, "Horoscope" (p. 3) attempts an explanation of
the influence of stars on human beings by the process of
simple analogy. If the reader believes in the fact that the
moon causes tides in the oceans by a kind of pull, which makes
"oceans pound back mountain force," then he should believe
that, "stars" have ”control over the destiny/of man, this

clay—clot." [The scriptural image of man as mud—made appears

 

46Ibid., p. 68. Italics mine.

 

 

155

also in "Olokun" (p. 18).] The poet affirms this:

Vain cynic, believe me, the stars

Even as they in galaxies roll-glow,

Affect our human lot,

Day to day make us ebb and flow.
The influence of the stars on the human lot has been noted
in connexion with "For Granny." This kind of repetition,

not only of words, but also tricks, symbolisms, and images

gives the poetry of Clark the quality of unity in diversity.

gpest for Courage

 

There is the novelty of the commonplace in Clark's

poetry. Writing of poetry in general, Professor A. J. M.
Smith says that great poetry does not necessarily mean a
great subject matter. There can be a great poem written
"about" a trivial matter: "A subject in itself may be
trivial or apparently unpoetic; it is what the poet does
with it that turns it into poetry." He illustrates hiS'
thesis with John Donne who wrote "on a flea."47 What Dr.
Johnson said of Congreve's "Mourning Bride" can be said of
some of Clark's poems:

He who reads theSe lines enjoys for a moment

the power of a poet, he feels what he remembers

to have felt before, but he feels it with great

increase of sensibility; he recognizes a famil-

iar image, but meets it again amplified and

.expanded, embellished with beauty and enlarged
with majesty.

 

47Seven Centuries of Verse English & American (New
York, 1957), p. xxxix.

48Ford, ed. From Dryden to Johnson, p. 417.

 

 

49

A. R. Humphreys calls this "recognition-plus—revelation."
And as for Clark himself, he refers to this quality of
poetry by saying:

An artist if anyting should be an inventor, a

creator of new things with use and beauty out

of ordinary familiar pieces and material

lying around.

This is precisely what Clark does in "Fulani Cattle"

(p. 6), and in some others of his poems. The pattern of
presentation is roughly the same in these poems. First,
there is the admiration of the exhibited courage, faith or
patience, with all the predicaments delineated, and after,
there is the protagonist's prayer for the acquisition of the
same virtue. Thus there is the "secret hope of knowledge"
locked in the hump of the cattle, so that without any revolt,
they meet their doom in the “house of slaughter." There
follows a speculation as to the source of this courage.
Was it a result of the habit of endurance instilled into the
cattle during the "forging/Of your gnarled and crooked horn"?
Or it may be that the "drover's whip" instead of inflicting
pain, "arouses shocks of ecstasy?" Or perhaps, having
travelled a long distance, the cattle need rest, and euphe—
mistically, this rest is of course to be found in the slaugh—
terhouse: hence death: As for the protagonist's prayer the

reader hears:

 

491bia.

50America, Their America, pp. 80—81.

 

 

157

But will you not vouchsafe to me,
As true the long knife must prevail
The patience of even your tail?

In "Iddo Bridge" (p. 33) the bridge becomes an
example of courage and patience, for "like a rainbow/You
stride, bearing with not a shout/The burden of men on your
back." This is a wonder to the poet. Paradoxically, the
bridge that bears the men is the "child of man,"--the person—
ification process continues. Like "Fulani Cattle," the poem
ends with a prayer to the bridge:

Teach us to stand in mud

.Though saddled with stone,

And when with confusion

Swept, a heart to rise above the flood.
The phrase "With Confusion/Swept" echoes Matthew Arnold's
"Swept with confused alarms . . ." ("Dover Beach," 1.36).
"Flood" in this poem does not connote time, as it does in
some poems previously dealt with.

It is not only courage, but courage coupled with
faith which the poet is seeking. Referring to the scriptures
in "Of Faith" (p. 40) he remembers that with faith one "can
move mountains," as Christ tells in St. Matthew. It is the
"giant mind," which, whether "fall night or rain . . . grap-
ples, wrestles," and wrings "resolution/from despair," that
has this kind of faith. Unlike the two former poems of this
group, but like the next, "Of Faith" is all wonder and admir—

ation, with no overt prayer. But the wish for what one wants

is still there, if only implicitly.

 

 

158

Hopkins' "The Soldier" praises Christ as “He [who]
knows war, served this soldiering through.“ Christ, the
soldier becomes the symbol of perfection, so that a "Christ—
done deed" is excellently done.51 Without any attempt to
link Clark's "To A Fallen Soldier" to Hopkins' (for they are
quite different poems at least in theme), it can be seen
that the spirit of Hopkins is still functioning in Clark.
The fallen soldier is a “fiery soul, streaked across life/
Like lightning in the Sky." Though he lived for only a
short time--his "passage“ being "like a meteor"--his depar-
ture from earth has left an impact that is deeply felt:

And the brilliant hail of sparks
And fall—out in your rushing wake
Left all the world blinded

And baffled in searing pain:

All these poems "about" quest for courage, faith or
patience, have continued the tragic trend that the reader
has been treading in the course of Clark's poetry. Why is
there need for patience, for courage, for faith? Like Yeats
or Auden, Clark is determined to accept life, though tragic
it be. "Baffled in searing pain," here below, he is still
looking for "a heart to rise above the flood." The heart-—
the faithful, courageous heart——is all one needs to accept
life, if only with some tragic joy, in the face of inevitable

defeat. For in life

 

51Poems, p. 105.

 

. E1 {7

 

159

Fair and foul are near of kin,
And fair needs foul. . . .52

Faith will help us to avoid the mistake of Auden's Gonzalo,
who "by speculation froze/Vision into an idea," and will put
us into the receptive disposition to welcome the words of

Alonso:

. . . praise the scorching rocks

For their desiccation of your lust,
Thank the bitter treatment of the tide
For its dissolution of your pride.53

Man and Tradition

Clark does not seem to leave any ground untilled.
In his study of the human predicament, he explores the
traditional religion and belief system of the Yorubas. Even
among the deities and spirits, there is unrest; there is
hostility. "The Imprisonment of Obatala” (p. 4) makes use
of the myths of Obatala, the YOruba creator God, to portray
the social problems among the Gods, and link this with

human situations.

 

52"Crazy Jane Talks With the Bishop," in The Vario—
rum Edition of the Poems of W. B. Yeats, ed. Peter Allt and
Russell K. Alspach (New York, 1957), p. 513.

53"The Sea and the Mirror: A Commentary on Shake-
speare's The Tempest," part II, in The Collected Poetry of
W. H. Auden (New York, 1945), pp. 351-404.

 

 

 

160

Mr. Ulli Beier records the myths about Obatala.54

The principal duty of Obatala is creation, and aside from
originally creating the earth, he continues to be responsible
for the shapes of all children born today. He therefore owns
the fault of creating the deformed peOple and albinos, who
are sacred to him--a point noted also by J. Olumide Lucas.55
Beier records also the incidents of the destruction of
Obatala by his slave, the loss of his eyes to Eshu "the con—
trary God," and his imprisonment by the servants of Shango,
the God of thunder, who was Obala's friend. These servants
imprisoned Obatala when he was visiting Shango, on the charge
that he (Obatala) was stealing his friend's horse. But he
was innocent, for he meant only to catch the horse that had
run away.

The myth of Odudua is also connected with that of
Obatala. Odudua was an invading warrior who crossed the
River Niger and met a flourishing culture among the Yorubas,
which he suppressed. He was unable to destroy the ancient
gods, but he had Obatala's name replaced by his own in the
creation myth. This invasion is commemorated during the
annual festival of Obatala. On this occasion, Obatala is

"driven out of the town and received back three weeks later

 

54"Obatala: Five Myths of the Yoruba Creator God,"
Black Orpheus, No. 7 (June 1960), 34—35.

55The Religion of the Yorubas (Lagos, 1948), p. 89.

 

 

 

161

in triumph, or else he is taken prisoner in a re—enacted war
dance and again released in triumph." This imprisonment
followed by release represents "the conquest and subsequent
rehabilitation of the god."56

J. P. Clark's poem is based on these myths, espe—
cially on the one dealing with the imprisonment of the god.
The poet alludes to the war—dance-—"they rock the dance/Of
snakes,‘I and the first stanza describes the physical process
of the imprisonment. But Clark, it seems, intends more than
a mere rehearsal of the story of Obatala. Stanza II speaks
of "that mischievous stir" between "homestead and stream."
What the poet is referring to here is not clear, but what is
known is that the stir "wells up in pots long stagnant on
stilt" and "brims out to where ancestral eyes gleam." The
angry waves that "dam His track" are foiled by "caterpillars"
who "break their back." Whatever the case may be, there is
the usual stress or strife that characterises most of Clark's
poetry. This continues to show in the final stanza, where
the "charcoal—coloured ass" kicks "impatient tattoo on the
grass." The cry of a child, a cry known to be tragic in
Clark, ends this piece:

But the cry of a child at what it knows not
Evokes trebly there the droop, mud—crack and clot.

 

56Beier, "Obatala," Black Orpheus, No. 7, p. 35.

 

 

162

The quarrels among the gods smack of the conflict among the
deities referred to in Chapter IV (pp. 97-98 above), and the
imprisonment of a god also resembles the hanging of gods in
fertility rituals, also referred to in Chapter IV (p. 98
above).

"Abiku" (p. 5) is a poem which deals with the Spirit
world, but it is more "about" a belief system of Yoruba peo-
ple, than "abOut" the gods. Lucas tells us that the Yorubas
believe that there is a "fraternity" of spirits that enter
into the child "in utero" to make him die in infancy. Such

a child is Abiku, "born to die."57

It is a very sad thing
for a woman to have such a child, and this myth is a fitting
one for a poet that sings the sad note of mournful humanity.
In the poem the Abiku is addressed and pleaded with.
The first line shows the child could come repeatedly to the
same mother. If the child is tired of staying "indoors,"
that is to say, living on earth, he had better stay with his
"kindred spirits" "on the boabab tree." The boabab tree is

58 The person pleading

"sacred to spirit children (Abiku)."
with the Abiku argues that though the house be a poor one,
some are still willing to remain on earth and live in the

home. So the child may no more "then bestride the threshold/

But step in and stay/for good." The poem ends with the

 

57Lucas, The Religion of the Yorubas, p. 149.

58Beier, Black Orpheus, No. 7; see the bottom part of
the plate opposite p. 35.

 

 

 

 

163

reference to the fact that a woman so harassed by an Abiku
is worn out:

vThen step in, step in and stay
For her body is tired.

An illusion is made also to the method of burying
such a child when it dies, as it often must, in infancy.
Lucas says again in this connexion: ;

If, in spite of all efforts, the child dies, its

body is maltreated, wounds and blows which are

believed to make indelible marks being inflicted

on it. Sometimes the body is hacked to pieces,

and in every case it must be thrown into the bush.

The idea behind such maltreatment is that the

Abiku spirit thereby suffers and becomes incapable

Of re—entering a human body.
So in the poem we hear of the "knife scars/Serrating down
your back and front"; and these "are all relics of your
first comings." Actually among the Ibos, the knife cuts
are given to the Ogbanje (the Ibo word for Abiku) so that
people may recognise it when it comes again. For the Ibo
word Ogbanje means one who comes repeatedly.

Another Nigerian poet bases one of his poems on the
myth of Abiku, but the attitudes of the poets are quite dif—
ferent. The basic facts of the myth remain roughly the same.
Thus Wole Soyinka in his "Abiku" represents the Abiku as

speaking. The child is cynical, insolent, capricious, and

boastful of his power to foil all the people's efforts to

 

59Lucas, The Religion of the Yorubas, p. 149.

 

 

164

make him live to maturity on earth.60

Hence the futility of
"your bangles" casting "charmed circles at my feet.“ He is
Apikw, he proudly says, "calling for the first/And the
repeated time.” All the "ash" spread, "goats and cowries“
sacrificed, and the “amulets" hung around him--these to make
him live——to him are a waste of time on the part of the peo—
ple. Lucas remarks that one method of preserving the child
"is to provide him with charms and amulets such as rings,
anklets, wristlets of beads, jingles, and so on," so that
when the spirits hear the sounds of these, they may be
frightened away.61

Soyinka refers also to the giving of marks to the
dead child, and this is to make him identifiable when he
comes again. The Abiku brags:

I am the squirrel teeth, cracked
The riddle of the palm. . . .

If people "dip" him "deeper still into/The god's swollen
foot" because of this, he is still sure to come back. In
the last stanza the Abiku philosophises——"The ripest fruit
was saddest." This indeed fits the tone of Clark's poetry.
The Abikus or Ojbanjes are often known to die when people
have begun to hope they will live. This is still life as
Clark sees it, and as Soyinka also does, from this partic—

ular angle.

 

6OModern Poetry From Africa, ed. Moore and Beier,

pp. 118-119.

61Lucas, The Religion of the Yorubas, p. 149.

 

 

165

Clarks use of the indigenous material is quite dif—
ferent from, say, that of Okogbule Nwanodi,‘for while the
latter celebrates this material for its own sake, Clark uses
it both for the creation of poetic beauty and as a vehicle
for some serious message about life. It is in this sense
that Cyprian Ekwensfs words can apply to his work: "For all
literature is part of culture and literature can never use-

fully be isolated from culture as a whole."62

"Ivbie"

H. Carey Thomas of Liberia in protest against the

vandalism of imperialism wrote the following:

Be warned:

That palefaced strangers

With unhallowed feet 63

Profane this heritage our fathers gave.
Clark's most ambitious poem "Ivbie“ (pp. 44-51) is a magnif—
icent superstructure erected on this foundation laid by
Thomas. "Ivbie" is a poem of defiance and regret: it
declaims the inhuman exploitation of man by man, and regrets

the inertia of the victims, who could not return a blow for

a blow, or scare the foreign hawks from the innocent brood.

 

62"Problems of Nigerian Writers," Nigeria Magazine,
No. 78 (September 1963), 217.

63Quoted by Ulli Beier in "Conflict of Cultures in
West African Poetry," Black Orpheus, No. l, p. 19; also in
Modern Poetry From Africa, pp. 19-20.

 

 

166

Mabel Segun touched upon this theme in a much less effective
way, that is to say, aesthetics—wise.64

Section I of "Ivbie" opens with a picture of a peo-
ple who under the yoke of oppression submit to their fate in
silence. Then there follows a catalogue of the vices and
misconceptions of the colonialists. Section II, employing
awe-inspiring images, expatiates on the injuries done by the
strangers, while the third section satirises the "civilizers“
who cloaked their economic aspirations in the garb of royal
services. Communal gods and the ancestral fathers are put
to inquisition in section IV, and in section V the irredeem—
able predicament of the victims is depicted. The final sec-
tion exhibits them acquiescing in defeat and in the perpet—
ual sleep of the innocent, as the oppressed in Clark are
wont to do.

Beginning then in the middle of things, the poem
strikes a note of despair, of inertia, for it is all too
late "to pluck out of honey/Fresh milk fangs" with which to
bite in a fight. There is no fight, indeed, and there can-
not be, for "we stifled our initial pangs." With this
expository scene over, one is led to the process of desecra—

tion and ravaging in the remaining section of part I.

 

64See "A Second Olympus," Reflections, p. 67.

 

 

167

The strangers are "from far-fabled country," and
have come “into our virgin jungle" lighting the fire of
destruction. Under their hacking axes, "our occult groves"
succumb, while they walk and watch with "alien care and
impunity." But though they have done so much harm to the
law, there are some mysterious aspects of the indigenous
life which their "eyes so big like sailors" cannot "in the
fixity" and "delirium of a glance” probe:

How can they catch the thousand intricacies

Tucked away in crannies

And corners perhaps known only to rats?

There are things so sacred about the indigenous life that
all the "wisdom" they have come to disseminate will simply
founder on the rock of their wrappage:

The sanctuary of things human is swathed
In menstrual rags, not in the market—place.

The market—place is accessible to the stranger, but not so
are the "menstrual rags." A horrible image though: The
strangers had better take care not to stretch their feelers
into the heart of things. The lightning that tears "the
ancient iroko" tree "to bits" can also find the stranger an
easy prey, for

Lice, lice, my dear, may infest
Stately woman's crest.

This is an exquisite image, with words charged to their

utmost, which of course vindicates Clark at his best.

 

 

168

The rich works of art taken from Africa to London,
and Moscow and New York were not thought of as existing in

the continent by the early explorers, and thus:
Bartholomew Diaz65 and Sir John
Hawkins,66 wondering adrift on
A log ferry—boat 67
Had not thought Cellini
Dwelt among cannibals.

But the aliens should realize that there are much more than
these. There is the "holy—unravelled dust" lying in “the
shadow of all trees," and in "the Shrines of Ifa"68 there
are "wood carVings done in blood." The poet explains how
they are "done in blood":

To win their mahogany,

Twenty thousand men wheeled their axe

And falling, another twenty
Received it on their backs.

 

65A Portuguese explorer who in 1846 "reported that he
had rounded the south of Africa." See H. G. Wells, The Out-
line of History (New York, 1949), p. 779.

66Sir John Hawkins (1532-1595) was an English mer-
chant adventurer of the Elizabethan era, who made several
voyages to the tropics and dealt in slavery. See James A.
Williamson, Hawkins of Plywouth (London, 1964).

 

67Benvenuto Cellini (1500—157l)——An "Italian Gold—
smith and Sculptor," "apprenticed" under "the Florentian
goldsmith Andre di Sando Marcone." He made a salt cellar
completed in gold for Francis I of France in 1543; and wrote
a "celebrated autobiography.” See Encyclgpaedia Britannica,
Vol. 5, pp. 440-441.

68

"Ifa (or Orunmila) is the founder of the oracle"
in Yoruba. See Yoruba Poetry, trans. Bakare Gbadamosi and
Ulli Beier, p. 25.

 

Clark can be cynical when he chooses. The shallow pride and

hollow confidence of the early colonialists. who thought
they had within their ken all that there was to know about
Africa constitute the target of the poet's attack.

Yet, these are the people, who, part II takes up, in
the "unguarded moment" left an impact that is today told in
tears and felt with a wail. "Universal void cannot contain/
the terrible immensity" of its "implications,"

Nor its permanence dissolve
In the flux—wash of eternity.

The poet becomes a little impassioned here, though he has
not for one moment lost control of his art. He goes on to
idetail further wounds inflicted on the country or continent.
Unguent "gums and oils" are drawn "in barrels off to foreign
mills"--a reference to raw rubber and palm—oil:
The soil quarried out of recognition
As never would erosion
another millenium.
Analogously this is "blood crying for blood spilt free," and
the next four lines contain a conceit very metaphysical in
its complexity, and extraordinarily dreary and shocking in
its impact:
The dark flesh rudely torn
And grafted on to red fetid sore

Breeding a hybrid lot
To work the land of sunset. . . .

Chier feels a little scared to probe these lines, just as one

feels afraid to approach one of those "occult groves" that

 

 

170

house the sacred things wrapped in "menstrual rags." The
lines refer of course to the illegitimate copulation of the
colonialists with the native women. The former are repre—
sented as "red fetid sore," and the latter as the "dark
flesh rudely torn" indicating rape, violence——an Ovidian
image borrowed directly, or through T. S. Eliot of "The
Waste Land." The hybrid who works "the land of sunset" is
of course the hybrid Negro in America-—"land of sunset"
meaning the West. The woman involved is a "Sweet Mrs. Gamp."
The bastard child is even born in a "mission ward," and it
is "wisdom—teethed." This is a satire on the claims of the
strangers to be inherently "wise." To them, ”white blood"
automatically connotes "wisdom" shared even by the foetus!

This attitude is beyond the poet's comprehension.
If peace at all it be, it really "passeth all understanding,"
for it seems to him to be "ruse"-—fraud, deceit! The strangers
have cheated the natives and also the government that sent
them out to win colonies and wield political power by plant-
ing its flag. Thus, in section III we hear of "the broadways/
Of oriflamme that opening wide should lance/Into the heart of
darkness." (One here recalls Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Dark—
ness.") But in the guise of this bringing of "light" to the
people in the "dark," the economic drive goes on:
And Austin Herefords go toot
Tooting in mad rush for loot,

Go hooting,

Blazing wide trails of gold
Thro' the forest of the night.

Jul}

 

 

171

Now the land has been tapped empty, eroded and
drained hollow. Its life has been sapped, and in a series
of elegiac questions, (part IV) the poet challenges the
communal gods to an account of their inaction:

. . . Say, did he brow—beat
Brow-beat you into our plight?

In desperation he consoles the "children" who have only
failedwwhere their gods had been conquered:

Who falls in mud
Need not smear another's blood.

Both have fallen; whether one is stained with mud during his
fall or with the blood of his murdered brother, it is all
the same.

A ghost, an "unlaid ghost,” comes to indicate that
things were in the past as in the present. Perhaps, it is
"unlaid," unsung, and therefore running about because of the
general desecration of the land that might have prevented its
funeral rites. Like T. S. Eliot's Tiresias,69 Oyin, who is a
man and woman, has experienced all the sufferings:

Had lived the fear frou-froued in fronds

The loud despair out in the dark

We have been through all.
So he warns the present generation against the machinations
of the stranger. In‘a litany of warnings headed each by

"Pkear him“ we learn more of what evils the stranger has been

czaqaable of. The stranger comes upon the people in the night,

 

69"The Waste Land," III.

 

 

172

like a thief, stealthily. He is compared to a "snakebird“
that in the market—place exhumes the ancestors for the
purpose of insulting them:

Fear the poison passed out or spat
Straight on our ancestral seat.

His “corruption" should also be feared, for "dissolving," it
“will deluge all the earth." His incursion is like a flood
On whose repulsive waves

Two life—buoys alone bob——
'Dirt and death, death and dirt. . . .

I
It is all these that Oyin (Creator—Mother in Ijaw
Mythology, who is also a man) has foreseen, and hence his/her
warnings. The tragedy of it all, however, is that men have
not hearkened to the warnings:
I the white bearded woman
Of night fame saw all
But men heeded not my hooting
Placed instead penalty in warning
And finality in brief omen.
The "bearded woman" is a man and woman, just as Tiresias is,
and both have the superhuman power of vision in common.
From blaming the communal gods, the poet passes in
part V to blaming men. At this point we may recall what
YVor Winters says of “Gerontion" and "The Waste Land“:
”Gerontion" is the portrait of an individual from
whom grace has been withdrawn, and who is dying

of spiritual starvation while remembering his past;
it is thus a prelude to "The Waste Land," a portrait

 

 

of a society from which grace has been withdrawn
and which is dying of its own triviality and
ugliness.

"Ivbie" is in part, in fact, the African "Waste Land" in a
non-spiritual sense. Ennui is the disease the people are
suffering from, and it generates other diseases. Even after
the timely warning of Oyin they are still deceived:

So well—fed on sweet quotations and wine

Were we, with pride, we said;

'Forget O forget——to forgive is divine.‘

But with all this, what advantage? What boots it?

The repercussion of indolence is really heavy on them.
Restlessness, and insomnia mark their lives, and the heavy
knocks on the door that were heard before in "Easter"
(Poems p. 33) are heard here again, and the order is, "Sleep

___I
no more." Their ancestors were better off, for they could

sleep.

Our fathers rightly or wrongly
Heavily drugged slept at least.

The protagonist feels he is in a Hamlet situation.
He cannot sleep, he cannot shut his door. Then he rational—
ises with the words of the scriptures: "knock and it shall
be opened unto you." But what is the use of opening the
door for those crying "out of a violated past"? The dead
lxanes will not fight effectively. But should he fail to

Cupen the door, "shall bars not lifting burst of their own?" He

 

 

70In Defense of Reason: Primitivism and Decadence:
15 EStudy of American Experimental Poetry (New York, 1947),

1?£>- 496—497.

 

 

is like Hamlet, talking "round the point." Not he alone,

not human beings alone in the land are faced with this
dilemma. The River Niger is also "hedged round till tomorrow"
and "will go spinning Whirlpools." Man and nature are
despoiled! There is no end to the sorrow of the soil, for
"new kites appear/Swooping in from the West." Like the rope
in a tug of war, the protagonist is still tugged and wrung,
and finally becomes

A toy twirled on by complexity
'Gnawing at my finger-tips deep perplexity.‘

Subdued and completely exhausted, he asks the stranger
to "pass on, missile—hurled," in his "headlong flight to fool
the world" (part IV). An obvious attack on modern science
and "civilization," this. The "market murnur," which the
stranger does not care to heed, returns to the protagonist to
cause him "magnificent obsession." He assumes the attitude
of a cynic, condemns the "headlong flight“ of the stranger he
cannot equal in the flying contest. He tries to find succour
in his low station, being free from the "throttle sound" to
which the ears of the stranger are prey. So he would appar—
ently be contented that the stranger

Leave behind unhaunted
An innocent in sleep of the ages.

iTlis kind of idealised innocence and self—justification
cuatiched in similar words, also ended "Night Rain," a poem

tlaeat shOWS man powerless before nature and fate (p. 116 above).

 

175

"Ivbie" is a culmination, specification, and fulfil—
ment. It is a culminating point of the whole poetry of
Clark before it. In it we see pinned dOWn the ugliness of
life, the tragedy that is the existence of a suppressed and
cheated people. It is a particularised and detailed illus—
tration of what before has been shown as passing kaledoscopic
pictures of life in general. It remains a great poem even if

"71 It

it moves Ulli Beier‘less than some of the others.
demonstrates and justifies the sardonic attitude which the
poet assumes towards life, and like Wordsworth he may as

well ask:

Have I not the reason to lament
What man has made of man?

All the other poems of Clark form a fulfilment of
the aspiration expressed in his prologue poem (p. 3), and
"Ivbie" is the climax of this fulfilment. This poem which
begins with "Still a song shall arise/In my heart" is the
poetic manifesto of J. P. Clark. It shows not only his
determination to write, but to do so even under very adverse
conditions. He is to sing out of the position of the
oppressed:

. . Out of this pit

Of ash and dust they trampled it
A flame shall arise.

 

71Black Orpheus, No. 12, p. 48.
72"Lines Written in Early Spring," 11.23-24, in The
Poetical Works, IV, 58.

“—

 

.176

He is the "yam tuber” declared "too late for prize/or price,"
which, if "buried piecemeal" will rise "again whole" and
yield "a hundred fold." This beautiful, if sorrowful, image
must have caught the attention of another Nigerian poet, who
almost reproduced the very words of Clark. Thus Nwanodi:

The yam tuber mauled,

rots and decays

only to revive——

twines and leaves-—

with fresh tubers 73

that shall feed us.

Clark, not being content with only the local images
employed to depict his dejection, resorts to the Bible. In
Psalm 137 the reader hears of the weeping beside the "streams
of Babylon." The people hung up their "harps" for they could
not sing for grief. Yet their persecutors demanded a song
from them:

. . . the men who took us prisoner
cried out for a song.

And then comes the question:

What, should we sing the Lord's
song in a strange land?

In Clark's poem one reads the following:

. . . For how can pestle

Sound in mortar a song

When Babylon of old

As yet unbroken into odd tongue

Poured on a bush flaming gold
Derision and dung.

 

73"Resume," in Icheke, p. 19.

 

177

Here is a mixture of local and biblical images. The atmos-
phere is similar to that of Psalm 137. There is the problem
of singing, and there is the case of oppression. Babylon is
given the same stance in Clark. She is the oppressor in both
cases. However, in this abject situation of suppression, a
body of songs has flowered from Clark's heart, among which
“Ivbie" assumes an epical position in tone, gravity, and

grandeur.
Conclusion

Not only in his poetry, but also in his drama, which
is poetic drama, does Clark deal with the theme of calamity,
of the tragic "reality" of existence. The tragic nature of
Song of a Goat and Masguerade is illustrative of this. Tpg
ggfip, which "is not strictly speaking a tragedy,"74 still
deals with an irreparable loss——that of the lives of the
four men on the raft.

Anthony Astrachan, however, does not see any logic
in the way the victims in the three plays have suffered:

". . . the protagonists are victims of punishment without
cause, or punishment beyond their deserts, whether from

society, gods or nature."75 But Astrachan's point of attack

 

74Anthony Astrachan, "Like Goats to the Slaughter:
Tfitree Plays, By John Pepper Clark," Black Orpheus, No. 16
((3C2tober 1964), 21.

751bid., p. 24.

 

 

178

seems to be the very thing that confirms the tragic View of
life which is characteristic of Clark. If one has an expla—
nation for every misfortune in life, if life is so logical
that everyone who experiences mishap finds a justifiable
cause for it-—if this mathematical precision marks human life
—-then one would be able to reconcile life with reason, and
find no cause to look on life as a labyrinth where men are
caught “like chicken in the storm." It is simply the fact
that man receives punishment for the wrong he does not do,
or he is not aware of, which makes life the grey prison that
it is. This is the note that rings through Clark's poetry
and his plays. That is why the "masseur" advises towards
the close of Song of a Goat that we should not

. . . venture over much

Else in unravelling the knot, you

Entangle yourselves. It is enough

You know now that each day we live 6

Hints at why we cried out at birth.

Clark is a master who is conscious of his art. With

77of his poetry,

all the "immediacy, urgency, and spontaneity"
there are many metrical and stanzaic evidences which point to
the fact that a lot of industry has been put into the produc—

tion of his poems. This scrupulosity with respect to his

art has not been recognized by some critics, though:

 

76"Alternative Close," p. 41.

77Black Orpheus, No. 12, p. 48.

 

 

179

In some of Clark's poems, the emotions get in

the way of the form, when there is enough form

to notice; in most of them, the words get away

from the poet and the reader, carrying the

meaning with them.
If Astrachan believes in the Poundian creed he quoted—-that
"great literature is simply language charged with meaning to
the utmost possible degree)‘79 it sounds a little contradic-
tory for him to rate Clark a lesser poet than Dennis Brutus.
In fact, Ulli Beier echoes Pound's words in his remark about
Clark's poems: "I should prefer to call them over-charged
or over—powered."80 However, Clark and Brutus are quite
different kinds of poets.

Clark himself tells us that he is more concerned with

art than with the conflict of cultures;81 and with Povey he
would agree that "one's concern is with literature, not with

82 Clark almost

sociology or history through literature."
assumes the position of ataraxy as he watches, very obser—
vantly, his world slide away irredeemably amidst chaos and

oppression. If, as Clark has told us, the true artist is he

 

78Anthony Astrachan, "Creative Writing,“ Nigeria
Magazine, No. 79 (Dec. 1963), 290—291.

79A. B. C. of Reading, p. 28.

80"Three Mbari Poets," Black Orpheus, No. 12, p. 48.

81America, Their America, pp. 78—80.

. 82J. F. POvey, "How Do'You Make a Course in African
Literature?" Transition, IV, 18 (1965), 39.

 

 

 

180

that creates out of the familiar material around him, and if
"it is a respectable theory which holds that the poet's func—
tion is to make us realize what we already know,"83 then one

has reason enough to call John Pepper Clark a great poet.

 

83Norman Friedman, e. e. cummings (Carbondale,
Illinois, 1964), p. 13.

 

||||
at don”.

 

 

CHAPTER VI

ETIOLOGY OF CONFLICT: THE POETRY OF
GEORGE AWOONOR—WILLIAMS
The trappings of the past, tender and tenuous
woven with the fibre of sisal and

Washed in the blood of the goat in the fetish hut
Are laced with the flimsy glories of paved streets.

("The Anvil and the Hammer")

Introduction

George Awoonor—Williams among the modern West
African poets writing in English, is one of the most con—
cerned about the theme of the conflict of foreign cultures
and the indigenous African cultures. Conflict of one kind
or another has often been the basis of great works of liter—
ature. William Empson tells us: "Good poetry is usually
written from a background of conflict, though no doubt more
in some periods than in others."1 It is the clash of emo-
tions within the poet which brings him to the brink of
frenzy, and only truly great poetry can restore his sanity.
Awoonor-Williams is grappling with many kinds of conflict at

one and the same time, simply because he as a human being is

 

lSeven Types of Ambiguity (New York, 1955), p. xv.

181

 

 

182

planted in a mesh of interrelations. There is first the pre-
dominant conflict between the old (traditional) and the new
(foreign); secondly, there is the clash between the thought
of living and that of dying, the here and the hereafter,
which leads him to feel that the "resting place" is not
"elsewhere” but ”is here with us." Again there is the stress
between dying and the state of being dead pointing toward the
quest for salvation, the meaning of which remains unclear.
Finally, there is the Freudian conflict between passion and
inhibition. Underlying all this is the welding current of
imagery drawn from traditional African life and pointing to
the only haven where Awoonor—Williams could from time to time
purge his griefs and heave momentary sighs of relief—-and
this is when, as he does, he stops to celebrate the indige—
nous themes, rituals, and incantations.

Here is then a craftsman who is disgusted with his
present life, and is trying to forge a livable one. In
general he is depicting the character of the life that he
knows, and this task demands the framework of conflict which
he has exploited to advantage. F. O. Matthiessen has pointed
out that the

. . . ability to portray the very character of
life demands a mature realization of the exis—
tence of both good and evil, an understanding
that life takes on dramatic significance only

when perceived as a struggle between these
forces.

 

Lg—

 

2The Achievement of T. S. Eliot (New York, 1959),

£58.

'_...II

 

 

183

It is this "dramatic significance” which gives the poetry
of Awoonor-Williams most of its charm and vigour. He fully
appreciates the worth of the past and the present, both of
which represent to him bloom and gloom, respectively. This
is something more than the "reassessment of the past and
search for identity” which one critic says "loom large" in
Awoonor-Williams' poetry.3 The past stands for something
noble; the poet has always been aware of this and hence his
nostalgic quest for it. The identity he is searching is no
new identity. He will be content with the old if it is
given back to him intact. He would have "our fathers" "sew
the old days for us."
With reference to the English-speaking West African

poets in general, Gerald Moore says that this poetry

is not concerned with large gestures, or with

general statements about the black race, the

cultural situation, the death of colonialism,

etc. It is concerned with personal and in—

tense experience; it is often inward, obser—

vant, reflective rather than "rhetorical" and

"public" in the French manner.
In these words Moore points out what seems to him to be the

differences between the French—speaking West African poets

like Sénghor, and their English—speaking counterparts.

 

3O. A., "Rediscovery by George Awoonor—Williams
(Mbari Publications 1964)," Black Orpheus, XVII (June 1965),
61.

4Seven African Writers (London, 1962), P. xviii.

 

 

I._

 

While it is true that the English—speaking poets are not

concerned with Negritude, some of their "personal" and
"intense" experiences are connected with colonialism and
cultural situations. Referring to some of the poets cited
by Moore, we can say that J. P. Clark, as we have seen in

the previous chapter, who is the least concerned with cul—
tural conflicts, still finds a place for colonialism in his
longest poem, "Ivbie." Clark would have been happy if he
were singing the dirge of colonialism. His task is some-
thing much sadder.) As for Awoonor—Williams, his lines throb
with grief for having misplaced his allegiance. In one of
his pOems, which will be discussed shortly, he reflects in

a cool and unemotional manner on the placement of this
allegiance on foreign "gods," which may represent Christian-
ity or any other imported religion. The celebration of indi—
genous practices is rife in Awoonor—Williams, as has been seen
to exist in Clark's "Obatala" and "Olumo Rock," though in

none of the cases is there any idealization.
The Old and the New

The greatest problem of George Awoonor—Williams is
his delicate conscience, which always presents before him
the fact that he has offended his ancestors and his communal
gods. If he were a little callous, he might have forgotten

Inany'oppressive old memories which invade him with pressure

arui brutality. But herein lies his filial candour and

 

 

185

respect. Thus, in "The Nim Trees in the Cemetery," "wrapt
in a thoughtless reverie of memory and regret,“ he breaks
out:

For haven't I gone astray from old memories,

desires and ambitions

And placed my offerings before alien gods

Whose shrines I saw only in my dreams?

He has left behind—~almost forgotten——what he highly prizes;
and what the present has for him——"the alien gods"—-are not
realistic to him. They are only seen in his dreams. He
next wonders in an Okigboesque tone whether he has not, like
the prodigal son, "asked for my appropriate proportion/And
deserted my father's house?" This notion of exile forms the
theme of another poem, "Exiles" (p. 11), which will be
discussed shortly.

The protagonist is really in an agony of thought and
meditation. He balances the foreign against the indigenous
to the utter detriment of the former, which has nothing to
offer him but "putrid joys that smell of night and spent
love's weary sweat." He casts a glance back at his past
life only to be convinced that he had "savoured the weary
cups of life," echoing Prufrock, who in reviewing the futil-

ity of his life says, "I have measured out my life with

 

5Rediscovery and Other Poems (Ibadan, Nigeria, 1964),

p. 8. Subsequent references to this book will be indicated
in the body of this study in parentheses.

 

 

186

6 . . . . .
A series of agoniZing experiences is

coffee spoons.“
rehearsed by Awoonor—William's protagonist beginning with
the powerful line: "For me most hours have voided their
excrements on my garlanded head." He has plunged into a
"green, cool sea," and hit his head upon the breakwater.
His experiences are such terrible ones that they are often
compared to the ugliest things. The "excrement" image is
used again in "The Weaver Bird" (p. 16), where the "old
shrines [are] defiled from the weaver's excrement," and in
"Exiles" (p. 11), where "the dunghill . . . has mounted on
their birth—place."

The conflict in the poet's mind is particularly
dramatised by the two pictures poised against each other in
the last lines of "The Nim Trees. . . ." In the Christians'
graveyard we see "gravestones with arms of angels outstretched
to the winds"; but, "in the pagan colony,“ there is "a yawning
untenanted grave."7 This grave is the one the protagonist has
"known since birth." Why is it now "untenanted"? Probably
because the person buried there has not been given funeral
rites necessary for his final repose, so that he has to leave
the grave and run about. This is the belief of the local

people. The neglect of this duty of burial rites is made

 

6T. S. Eliot, The Complete Poems and Plays, p. 5.

7Reminiscent of Shakespeare. See Julius Caesar, II,
ii, 18: "And graves have yawned and yielded up their dead."

 

 

 

187

more pronounced by the fact that it is in despite of the
living reminder—-"the forget—me-not . . . the only flower
that blooms "beside the grave. Again there is the fact that
the protagonist, whose duty it is to fulfil. these rites,
has rather wandered into the enemy camp—-the Christians'
cemetery. Now he is aware of his mistake, and wishes to
make amends.

The struggle of opposites is located between two
groups in "We Have Found a New Land" (p. 10). This poem
asumes a satirical tone as it begins. The target consists
of those natives who have not only imbibed the foreign cul—
ture indiscriminately, but have also taken delight in abusing
those, like the protagonist of the poem, who are faithful to
the indigenous culture. As for the former, they are in
"three piece"-—meaning the foreign suits of clothes, and
vfliile in the clothes they are sweating "away their humanity
in.dribblets." The I'we" which the poet uses is simply the
<:ourteous, yet sarcastic plural which, while it pretends to
stumd all of them as offenders, clearly shows that the speaker
is; excepted. The new land which they have found is one in
“fliich "our blackness does not matter" and where "our songs
aria dying on our lips." This is the land of foreign ideas

arui ideals, which suppresses the indigenous "songs"—-poetry,

nuisic, etc.

all

 

 

188

The Dantesque image——"hellgate"—-shows that though
some follow the foreign ways to please the colonial masters,
both they and the so called obscurantists are doomed to the

same hell of oppression. The converts attack the one who

insists on the native system of dressing—~"Come on, old boy.

You cannot dress like that." He is regarded as a disgrace

to the others; as one "who had let the side down." And for

this insult we hear the protagonist:

These who want to be seen in the best company
Have adjured8 the magic of being themselves.

Here identity is the case in point. By renouncing their own
culture and taking to the imported one, the people have

surely lost their identity. It can be seen that the iden—

tity the poet is seeking is the original one, not even a

Inixture of the new and the old. The "new land“ they have
found is arid and cannot be a substitute for the old. In

tlie new land their "songs are dead and we shall sell them
dead to the other side."

The final thrust at the futility of the people's
eruieavours is effected in the last two lines:

Reaching for the stars we stop at the house of Moon
And pause to relearn the wisdom of our fathers.

True people are trying the impossible. They want to shed

trueir real identity and bury their own culture, so as to

8This writer thinks the word should be "abjured."
See OED.

 

   

189

assmme strange ones. But like Ezra Pound's Mauberley, they
only exhibit mouths snapping emptily in the air; they cannot
reach their new "standards," and the past is almost lost to
them.9 It is this past which consists in "the wisdom of our
fathers" that they will stop to recapture.
This ”new land" which "we have found” is of course -

where we are exiled to. These exiles are in a worse predica— E
ment than Okigbo's protagonist in Heavensggte is in, for
‘while the former have not made up their minds to return home,
the latter is already at the gate begging his mother to Open
the door for him. So in "Exiles" (p. 11), "the return is
tedious," and the thought of returning to "face the fences
the termites had eaten/And see the dunghill that has mounted
<on their birthplace," is a dreadful one. The home is reeking
\Mith misery, being transmogrified by long neglect into some-
‘thing stinking and detestable. With an envenomed stroke like
tflnose that "will land them on forgotten shores," the poet
Inegisters an attack on those sojourners who have misled them-
selves:

they committed the impiety of self-deceit

ESlashed, cut and wounded their souls

and left the mangled remainder in manacles

Ehefore the sacred altar, alongside the sacrificial cock
Vflhose crow woke the night sleepers at dawn.

 

9"Mauberley" (1920), in Selected Poems of Ezra Pound
(New York, 1957), pp. 71—77: "Vacuos exercet aera morsus."

 

 

190

These lines are among the best from the pen of Awoonor—
Williams. Full of alliteration and assonance, and marked by
the power and brilliance of an inspired vision, they depict
precisely the sensibility of an enraged spirit. The image
of hell continues in "Gateman," and the ”lost souls . . .
are still at the gate."

Since the old is so unceremoniously denounced, and
the new is impossible of attainment in its entirety (as well
as being undesirable), a new life is sought which will be a
synthesis of both. "The Anvil and the Hammer" (p. 13) shows
that this resort is no solution to the protagonist's problem.
He is entrapped between "the anvil and the hammer/In the
forging house of a new life." The word "forging" is aptly
chosen. It connotes both the artifice of smithery which can—
not supplant nature adequately, and various nuances of phoni—
ness and fabrication. Though there is some "joy" in the
"new songs," he is "delivered" into them by "pangs." But
the past and the present are so incompatible that any mix-
ture from the two will be worthless. The past is "tender
and tenuous”; it is made of "sisal" and "washed" in the blood
(pf the sacrificial goat. The present is made up of "the
flimsy glories of paved streets"——the gift of western
"civilization." The new language learnt is the pride of the
outlaw only; the people do not even get the quintessence of
this tongue. What they get is mere "snatches from their/

Tunes,” and when they make their "new flags and anthems,"

 

 

 

 

191

they Cum: "listen to the reverberation of our songs" only in
the "splash and moan of the sea." Since this new language
is, as it is, so worthless, the protagonist turns to the

fathers:

Sew the old days for us, our fathers

That we can wear them under our new garment,

After we have washed ourselves in 10

The whirlpool of the many river's estuary.
So, in the end, the nostalgia for the old, the past, insists.

In "The Weaver Bird" (p. 16), the rejection of for-
eign things is dramatised with the technique of allegory,
which is not very common in twentieth century poetry, but
which is in keeping with the method of West African vernac—
ular poetry. The "bird" image is one of Awoonor—Williams'
favourites as we will later see in "I Heard A Bird Cry," but
‘what the bird represents is not the same in all cases. Here
the weaver bird represents the foreigners who occupied the
land and undertook the responsibility of effecting the indig-
eenous people's salvation. The weaver bird not only settled,
laut also claimed ownership of the land. The Ibo man in
Ifligeria commemorates this sad event thus:

The whiteman I sold some land to settle earlier
Now owns the land and dubs me page and carrier.

The bird has propagated and is now preaching "salva-

 

1Lion to us that owned the house." The sermon it preaches "is
true divination of ourselves." Its sermon is ineffective, for
10

The grammar of the "many river's estuary" is not
acceptable to me, even though the idea being put across seems
comprehensible .

 

 

 

 

 

192

“welcannot join the prayers and answers of the communicants."
Since their home is occupied by those who have ousted them,
they have to look for a new home:

We look for new homes every day,

For new altars we strive to rebuild

The old shrines defiled from the weaver's excrement.

The weaver bird specifically represents the foreign religion

whose exponents made it their principal preoccupation to

demolish the shrines of the indigenous gods. Here is Chris-

topher Okigbo again. His gods have been driven out of their

shrines also, and they lie behind the shrines decaying, with-

out anyone to care for them (see Chapter IV, p. 98 above).
The souls that have been "manacled" in "Exiles"

(p. 189 above) reappear in this poem of despair and confu-

sion, "Come Let Us Join” (p. 23). The taking over of the

home by foreigners who preach salvation in "The Weaver Bird"

(p. 191 above) has created frustration in the people, who

as they join the new religious order as though by coercion,

regard themselves as lost. They have been shedding tears

"since conception." The song they hear is the foreign one,
the Christian "gloria in excelsis." Ironically they will
j<>in the singers: "Come all ye faithless and bring your

«drums along? It is no longer "Come All Ye Faithful," the
<:elebrated Christmas hymn. This ironic tone is in keeping
‘Nith the feeling of a poet who does not believe that there

<:an be a complete unification of the new with the old. Even

 

 

 

193

though the “ceremony of oneness is near," most of those who
are converted remain essentially faithless. Also it should
be noted that they will be singing of "lost souls redeemed
by the agony of death." This may have a double meaning. In
the Christian sense, people are saved by the death of Christ
on the Cross. But there could be the possible implication
here that the indigenous people in the poem who have left
the communal gods for the Christian's God are lost souls.
Awoonor-Williams' concern for the indigenous reli—

gious worship is a deeply felt one. Though a part of the
whole body of conflict of the foreign and the indigenous,
the frequency with which he refers to it borders seriously
on unnecessary repetition. "The Years Behind" (p. 24) takes
up the theme again among other things. The poem opens with
the usual cry of despair. The people have no hope of "high
office"; youth is "receding" and old age is fast approaching.
'Yet they have not been able to realise the tragic situation
of the neglected gods:

On the sacred stone with the neglected embers

The cock offering has fluttered and gone

The palm oil on the stone gods has turned green

And the gods look on concerned and forgotten. . . .
finie reader still continues to hear of the "lost souls"; the
Ixrotagonist's "song falls low among alien peoples." Every—
thing original to him and his culture has been suppressed
auid neglected. The mingling of his song with the alien's is

run efficacious event. He wants the old and nothing less,

 

 

194

and in almost the same words as have been heard from him he

pleads with the fathers:
Sew the old days for me, my fathers
Sew them that I may wear them
For the feast that is coming
The feast of the new season that is coming (cf. The
Anvil and Hammer" pp. 190-191 above).

As insistent as the concern for the fate of the local
gods in Awoonor—Williams' system is his concern for his-
"song." Indecision, lack of direction and determination
sometimes characterise the poet's people. As has been noted
in "Exiles" (p. 189 above), "What Song Shall We Sing" pre—
sents the dilemma of choice. Here the people are hard put
to it to decide whether they should sing the old songs or
the new ones. The tone of this poem seems to be ironic and
sarcastic. The speakers must be the converts to the foreign
culture, for to them the local songs can only be "the flesh
peeling songs/of goose pimples" as against the new songs
brought by "the travellers." They would have the "man of
'huge testicles" drawn away, so that "the peOple with dirty
clothes" can dance. Thus the natives in the villages, prob—
.ably, are represented here as the object of ridicule. The
Exrotagonist agrees to learn "the new songs," but "from afar."
ffhis is an offence to his god.

Now it sadly seems that the new songs have gone far

tx: supplant the old ones. In fact the protagonist's "god of

songs" has taken to bed. In "My God.of Songs Was Ill" (p. 31),

 

 

 

 

 

195

the protagonist and his “god" are in serious trouble. The
protagonist takes the "god of songs" to the "fetish priest"
to have him cured. The god keeps crying and groaning. The
protagonist is only allowed to enter the room "with my back~
side." He is the cause of his god's illness, by having
"violated" him. It is therefore only his "father's gods"
who can cure him, but before this is done,

My god burst into songs, new strong songs
That I am still singing with him.

The breach of faith by the protagonist is only a
sign of the catastrophe that will follow. The gods will
finally be neglected, they will lose all their votaries.
The scene of this tragedy is clearly depicted in "Easter
Dawn" (p. 35). There are all the physical evidences of
opposition and rupture. The church-goers--"dawn marchers"--
are singing. Simultaneously "the gods are crying." They
want "a burial" and "a final ritual":

but they that should build the fallen shrines

have joined the dawn marchers

singing their way toward Gethsemane

where the tear drops of glory still freshen the cactus.
{The poet, however, keeps faith in the old gods, but is
(dejected. The gods who "cried again from the hut in me"
iasking why they have been neglected receive no answer but

nuore defiant demonstration songs of "resurrection" which

'Rzoncerned the hillock of Calvary."

 

 

 

 

196

Everything in connexion with the indigenous gods
symbolically recedes: as they are "shedding/clayey tears“
the "drink offering" dries up as "in the harmattan." The
“cola-nut is shrivelled" and "the yam feast has been eaten
by mice." To crOWn the whole failure of the gods, their
“priest is dressing for the Easter service." In fact, even
the protagonist, the strongest advocate of the gods, has
felt the lure of the changing times. The resurrection songs
have touched his "insides." The gods put up their last
struggle as in a state of frothy agitation, for with the
conversion of the "fetish priest" one might like Okigbo
conclude that "the cancelling out is complete":

Then the gods cried loudest

Challenging the hymners

They siezed their songs and drums

And marched behind the dawn marchers

Seeking their Calvary

Seeking their tombstones

And those who refused to replace them

in the appropriate season.

The contrast is really dramatic. Why does the poet choose
the Easter Day for this event? Simply of course to accen-
tuate the fall of the gods and make the Christians' triumph
synchronise with the conquest of death by Christ. As Christ
and the Christians rise from death——he from his temporary

temporal death, they from the death of sin-—the communal gods

sink down into the abyss of oblivion.

 

 

197

Passion and Purity

 

The love poetry of George Awoonor—Williams has never
been accorded the recognition which it deserves. It gener-
ally gets lost before the popularly acclaimed main theme of
culture-conflict. As will be demonstrated here, the poems
of Awoonor—Williams dealing with love, lust or passion, con-
tain lines and lyrics that are among the best in his entire
poetry. The poet's mind still works on the basis of con-
flict. Often the man's passion runs in conflict with the
girl's coldness or chastity or desire to be pure. Sometimes
it is distance and time that are in the man's way, and at
other times still, the man's mind becomes a battle ground of
conflicting aspirations.

"A Call" (p. 7) combines the theme dealt with in
the previous section with the theme of love. There is a
clash here between the indigenous name given the protago-
nist by his mother, and another name, which perhaps is his
Christian name, and it is by this latter that the girl calls
him. Furthermore, the scene of their meeting is to be beside
the "cemetery," and under a "cashew tree." Both the cemetery
and the cashew tree represent foreign ideas. In the protago—
nist's mind are thoughts of "the coloured cowrie" and the
"herbs" for conjuring. These symbolize the indigenous life
he cherishes. When he meets the girl the actual erotic con-

flict occurs, and ends the poem: "She stood still beneath

 

 

 

198

the cashew/And spoke not a word." Probably the boy is
mystified, and a critic has characterised "A Call" "a novel
mystification of love. . . ."11
The silence shown by the girl is astounding, but the

protagonist is a victim to other forces than silence. In
"To Her Afar" (p. 9) despite his admiration of the girl's
profile, his "throbbing" heart is kept throbbing for six
whole years. But he still has reason to hope that in the
end "the final drum beat shall sound" and they will then
"identify with one another." This hope in itself makes his
position worse, for the thought that is kept hanging acts
like the canker worm. The Opening lines of this poem are
quite charming:

Cannot I remember the profile

That thundered in virgin gaiety

Refusing the chastity belt of a family

And watching the heart that watched.
Both in rhythm and in music, no less indeed in evocative
power, they show that Awoonor—Williams can reach admirable
heights when not fettered by too much sorrow and pining for
the past that is draining away. "To Her Afar" ends with the
poet hoping for the moment of fulfilment.

Unfortunately time, the enemy, waxes stronger in

"Lover's Song." Here it is the wife who has left the man

for seven years. Since one does not suspect this from the

 

llBlack Orpheus, No. 14 (February 1964), 60.

 

 

 

199

opendxug lines, the order to call the girl "with the neck
like a desert tree" so that “she and I will lie in one bed"
sounds rather careless; but the last two lines shed light
on the situation:

If they marry a woman don't they sleep with her?
Isn't it seven years since you went away?

Who are "they"? This author thinks that behind the scene

is the controlling hand of the Christian regulation. Prob-
ably the man is ordinarily engaged with the girl for mar-
riage, but according to the regulation of, say, the Catholic
Church, the two would not sleep together till they actually
get married in the Church. Besides, within the interval,

the girl is usually sent away on a training programme.

Being thus impatient, the man asks whether "they” who made
this law do not sleep with their wives when they get married.
This is still a conflict of cultural patterns.

It should be understood, however, that there is no
progressive movement of one love story in these poems. Each
poem deals with some aspect of the theme, and the situations
are quite different. But from time to time one has reason
to link poem with poem. The "final drum beat" of "To Her
Afar" for instance, is echoed in "The Drum Beat Summons"

(p. 7). It is this "drum beat" that the protagonist hopes
will bring him and the girl together into a love relation.
Here he confesses his love, his "wounded soul" that has made

a "limping journey to your house." However, there is still

 

r'.

 

 

200

an element of uncertainty. He does not know "whether that
smile is in the possession of another one." This poem raises
a point that will occur again and again in other love poems——
“shall we journey together to the world's end. . . ."
With "her afar," there is no question of copulation.

With "her near" there could be copulation but with the bed
wet with tears. "To Her Near" (p. 19) presents a complicated
case. Christianity forms a third line to this triangular
warfare. Because of the Christian regulation against illicit
sexual intercourse, "self fulfilment becomes the negation of
the soul." The girl is conscious of this law, but the boy is
rather callous. What happens and what follows are vividly
put before us:

Howling scenes of the bedded scenes

and tears come in spasms

before the calm fulfilment of orgasm

Quells Your heart, chastens my being

and distraction returns and thoughts fly away

To other lands, to other faces of other souls

Lost in the image of non-recognition.
The storm of passion.is succeeded by the stress of restless—
ness which, despite the fact that copulation ”chastens [his]
being," still comes to pester him. The incongruity of the
image is glaring.

Sometimes one girl triumphs where the other has
capitulated, and it is the cruelty and fastidiousness of

such a girl that the protagonist has to fight against. "I

Was Among the Throng" (p. 21) is rather a pathetic poem.

 

.,fuill . b.1117, (4.)..irll1lalfill
W , .1! ‘1‘

L.

 

 

201

The nunn falls victim to a girl who keeps him waiting at the
gate. He justifies his coming--"in your gestures I read the
call." But when he comes, she goes to her people. His

music does not move her to "dance to the sadness of my music,"

so that he is "still waiting" ad infinitum. Time, again,

 

and now coupled with the hardness of the girl's heart (or
could it be her chastity?) has been his fatal foe here. He
is always waiting for a time that scarcely ever comes.

While "The New Warmth" (p. 22) still harps on the
conflict between the boy's heated passion and the girl's
coldness and reserve, making the "foster season" of their
love endless, "The Wrath" (p. 32) and "The Flame In My Heart"
(p. 33) demonstrate the conflict within the man between the
id and ego, and between the id and superego. The former
poem shows the protagonist keeping the "nesting crows" within

him a check. The crows are of course the urge to self-ful-

filment. But the more he tries to reason and reflect, the
more the crows flutter with "turbulence," "demanding answers
to unforgettable questions." The bird imagery is exquisite.

The reader does not only visualise birds locked up in a
person's self, but the whole idea of one caging his instincts,
his passions, can be objectified by the idea of putting birds
in a cage.

The second poem is on the stress between id and
superego. The moral question is overtly at issue here. The

Clark-like image of passion as a fuel is used. "The flame

 

f,

 

 

202

inlny heart/Burns the many Cinders/And I sing no more."

This is the flame of love, or it may be the flame of the
fire of struggle going on within him. For as he walks "the
forgotten shores"--a sign of isolation-—"the crucifix of the
Church" keeps him company, reminding him "of another joy/And
another time." This is the joy of Heaven, and that other
time is time outside time; it is even no time, it is the
timeless, being eternity. He is worse off still: he has
not attained the "promised rebirth" which he seeks in "your

laps,’ and he cannot "expect the sleep promised beyond."
"The Return" (p. 34) resolves the conflict, and
returns him finally to the girl, after all the "doubt in my

beginning." The love has been "wearied." Its "hot breath"

Changes its beat for the renewal
The research, and perhaps the rediscovery.

He returns from the thoughts of Christianity to "father's
gods" and will "change the cloths" that are laid on these
gods. After he has done this, he will call the girl. There
is yet the final obstacle--the attraction of "the psalmists
returning from Gethsemane/Singing about the city built with
gold." But he cannot be distracted any more. His vote is
for Eros, not for the Church:
Return, my heart did return
To see the prostrate figure on the shore . . .
Dear one, hold on, for I come.
This poem hints of rediscovery after the wearied

period of love. What is to be rediscovered is not quite

clear. Are they to rediscover their love, or their religious

 

 

 

203

faith that might have been weakened by their unlawful love
affairs, or their fate after death? This question is not
even answered by the poem "Rediscovery" (p. 18), from which
the whole book takes its title.

The tears are probably tears of love. This poem is
highly reflective and meditative. There seems to be a kind
of retreat into one's spiritual life. After every other
thing has receded at night "there shall still linger the
communion we forged/the feast of oneness whose ritual we
partook of." "Communion" can mean the Holy Communion, or
sexual union. But "oneness" here seems to have the same
connotation with "oneness" in "Come Let Us Join" (p. 23)
where it refers to oneness of the Christian fold. "To Her
Near" (p. 19) shows "communion" and "oneness" as connoting'
sexual union, for after the "communion" and "the feast of
oneness we are asked to wash our hands."

Taking this as our cue, we can approach "Rediscovery"
more positively. The "feast of oneness" here is to be taken
to stand for the sexual act. Everything else is forgotten,
but it remains in their minds. There is a reference to the
"eternal gateman." This is the same gateman opening the gate
of hell to those doomed. ’The thought of their fate after
death harasses them. This is a process of rediscovering
themselves, after being lost in sin. It is these second

selves rediscovered that will sing the doxological songs—-

 

 

 

 

204

”halleluyahs." These "halleluyahs" and the "new chorus of
our forgotten comrades" still linger "in the chambers of
memory."

Quite obviously, then, the process of rediscovery
entails reckoning with one's inner self to see what one's
position after death will be. The conflict of thoughts
about life here and the life hereafter, and between dying
and the state of being dead constitute generally the point

of convergence of the next group of Awoonor-Williams' poems.

Being and Becoming

 

George Awoonor-Williams sees the life here as that
of suffering. Often the soul of his protagonist is "man-
gled" and "manacled." This is the result of the foreigners
who invaded the land preaching salvation to the people, and
diverting the attention of the people from the native way of
doing things. Then he probes into the question of salvation,
evaluating the preacher's View and finding it untenable to
him. To him the fulfilment through the native funeral rites
appears more genuine. He questions the authenticity of that
other place where salvation is allegedly assured, and con-
cludes that the resting place is nowhere else but here:

Who says that there is a resting place elsewhere
It is here with us.

This is what he arrives at in the poem "In My Sick Bed"

 

Mfr-1 .
9' .1

 

 

 

205

(p. 29). What follows will show the process of investigation
by which this conclusion is reached.

"Desire" (p. 5) is a quest poem plus something more.
The quest is for ”the message from beyond." This has "the
single quest" in which the protagonist has been fixed by the
"years" that "roll past.” The past is fraught with "tra—
vails," and the promise that the future is said to hold is
"glories," which the reader is immediately told in a skepti-
cal way are no "glories." Doubting the existence of any
"resting place" at the "journey's end," the poet gives a
series of awe—striking images of death and loss:

The pall bearers reek with drink and vomit

And the dead man wakes up and looks at them

And dies again.
And shortly after, is heard

The wanderers that lost their way homewards
And chose the scented putrefaction of death.

Life is a wilderness where people wander and miss their way.
There is loss here. Death is a final pool where loss is
more certain. So for the "wanderers" there is no security
either way.

The quest for the future state of man continues in
"Salvation" (p. 12). It would be safer to accept the words
of the funeral drums of the natives, which say "Doom, doom,
<100m,“ for as for salvation,

We do not need any salvation
In our beginnings lies our journey's end.

 

 

 

206

If the "doom" rehearsed by the funeral drums is the final
truth of life, there is no need to talk of salvation. The
Eliotish line which f0110WS does not indicate that Awoonor—
Williams is seeking life from the transcendental point of
view that is Eliot's. For E1iot-—"In my beginning is my

"12 Thus,

end" and later on "In my end is my beginning.
Eliot hopes for another life which will begin when this ends.
But there is no such hope for Awoonor—Williams. Life for
him ends at the moment of birth. If so, salvation is unnec—
essary, and if there is to be any, "we shall find our salva—
tion here on the shore, asleep." One can remember that the
"weaver bird" that was "preaching salvation to us" in the
"Weaver Bird" has been an object of attack.

Life must therefore be a tedious journey without
direction. "The Longest Journey" (p. 20) details the dis—
contentments of life. The reader hears of the "premature
wrinkles," the ”heart-rending cry of the infant in the
night," the "dead drummers' anguish." The picture is
clinched by the allusion to the Bible: "By the rivers of
Babylon there I sat." This is an exact replica of the open—
ing words of Psalm 137:

We sat by the streams of Babylon and
wept, there, remembering Sion.

 

12"East Coker," I and V.

 

 

 

207

The Israelites were made captives and exiled to a strange
land. This is a parallel for the predicament of our poet.
His fatherland, nay, life at large, is for him a place of
captivity. The theme of exile has been dealt with in this
study of his poems. He has been so mangled and crippled
that he cannot walk without a "cane."

Make me a cane so that I can walk

Can carry my crippled soul across the stile

and enter the room where they are feasting all night.

In the doorway I found a heart had been bruised

By the strictures of life.
It is these "strictures of life" that make life the thorny
affair that it is. There is no rest here and none elsewhere.
The singing girl of "My Song" (p. 28) sings "about lost
souls," "about wanderers," "about gyrating ghosts"--"about
me . . . whose life has limped along unfulfilled." Here
again, by "rivers of Babylon" he sits, but this time watch—
ing his "joyful hours." But these joyful hours are lost
forever!

As a kind of refrain after such reflection, the
protagonist talks of salvation and the preachers in "March,
Kind Comrade, Abreast Him" (p. 25). If life is so ruined
and ruining, he wonders "what all this talk of our people
and salvation is about/Is it not the hands that smashed the
cradle that dug the grave?" Rather than listen to such talk,
he would go and "get drunk at the funeral." It is the teach—

ing of the foreigners that angers the protagonist beyond

 

 

 

208

endurance. They have talked "of the revolutions of the
world," and of the socialists. The image of the "beggar
boy" limping away is important here. The preachers have not
catered .to the boy, maybe. But the protagonist accepts him.
He will be one with him. The boy will sing "at our funeral."
As a matter of fact, the indigenous funeral rites are more
important to the poet than all the talk of salvation. So

the local funeral ritual is already in conflict with the

 

Christian's idea of burial and life of the world to come.
This note of concern for "rite and the ceremony/the

functions unperformed" is sounded in "That Which Flesh Is

Heir To" (p. 26). The world to come that is preached is no
reality: ". . . our thoughts soar searching for lands that
are never there." If there is immortality, it will be suf-

ficiently learned from the "myriad of colours and the dazzle
of the rainbow." To show insistently that there is no need
for salvation, it is unnecessary to "pray for us at the hour
of our death" which is the Christian way, but rather, "we“
should ”pray for us at the hour of our birth."

So far the state of becoming is shown to be a state
full of strictures, of wandering souls that are crippled.
As for the state of being, we should not think of it from

the Christian's point of View. All that is necessary is

the funeral fulfilment for the repose of the dead person.

This is what occupies the mind of the protagonist. What will

 

 

209

he be like in the state of being dead? Thus in "The Consum-
mation" (p. 27) "when we make our grand finale/Will there be
souls this side of eternity/Who will wish us fulfilment. . .
He wonders why we cannot "join the ceremony of our death/And
partake of the rituals." So, the protagonist is really
bothered about life after this. But he is not concerned
with the Christian sense of salvation or damnation; rather
it is the indigenous way of funeral rites to effect the ful-

filment of the dead, that is of importance to him.
Celebration of the Indigenous Way_of Life

In the midst of conflicts the embattled poet has
always had one clear point of affirmation. Not only has he
always recognised the indigenous way of doing things--of
living generally—-but he has also been earnestly anxious
to return to this way and wear the garment of the old days
sewn by his fathers. In moments of doubt, he would find the
truth "from beyond" by his native method of divination; when
purification is due, it will be effected by the same tradi-
tional means. There he feels at home and secure.

The quest pointed out in "Desire" (p. 205 above) is
pursued by looking into the "herb pot":

And I look into the herb pot to read the message
from beyond.

But he hears "no voice, no ghosts whisper." Also the

"village clown," wanting to help him, offers not the foreign

 

'DII

 

 

 

“m.

210

means but the indigenous one--the "coloured cowrie."

Awoonor-Williams thus suggests that "the visit to the diviner

is very much a living custom over most of Africa."13 R. S.

Rattray evaluates this custom:

It would not be just to dismiss all this as
chicanery. It is the African's way of seeking
an unbiased answer for his doubts and question-
ings, and thus, to ease his mind. It enables
him also to place the onus of certain unpleas—
ant but wholesome truths on the shoulders of
the spirits and to fix in the same quarter the
opprobium of carrying out unpopular but sani-
tary measures.

It is equally good psychology and policy
because, in nine cases out of ten, the sooth-
sayer's wand will bend to the trend of public
Opinion.14
In the poem, however, the protagonist does not even go to a
soothsayer; he is at once the diviner and client. He feels
entirely involved in the whole system.

Just as the gods are sounded in moments of doubts,
so are they palliated with sacrifices where there are prob-
lems. In "The Purification” (p. 14) the fisherman has only
"catches of weed? for the "sea-god has deserted the shore."
To pacify the god, a "sacrificial cow" is needed. The pro—
tagonist breaks out in a tone of incantation:

Anipaye the fish, I shall stay at the net's end

While you go down.
While you go down;

 

l3Jacob Drachler, ed. African Heritage (New York,
1963), P. 204.

14Ibid., p. 206.

 

 

 

 

211

and When the sacrifice is completed, the "cow and Anipaye

had gone down."

In fact throughout his poetry, Awoonor-Williams has

 

remained the faithful son of his fathers and their tradition.

Whatever theme he writes on, he consistently draws his
images from the traditional customs. His poetry is a vivid
demonstration of "les procédés stylistiques" which Janheinz
Jahn has talked of (see Chapter III above). This is so
prominent in his work that it has attracted the comments of
several critics, as in the following comment concerning
Awoonor-Williams and Mazisi Kunene of South Africa:

Both have understood and assimilated the cryptic,

rather oracular quality of much vernacular imag—

ery. This has given both freshness and weight

to their language. . . .15

J. P. Clark has quoted these lines and then remarked that

"theirs may well be called a concern and quest for the wis—
l6

iii-’39.
l
0
1

dom and wealth of their fathers." In another instance the

reader hears of Awoonor-Williams: "His phrasing and imagery

draws deliberately on the richness of his Togolese mother

'tongue."17 It is no wonder that this should be so, for

Iwwoonor—Williams believes in each person retaining and

 

15Modern Poetry From Africa, pp. 21-22.

6"Poetry in Africa Today," Transition. IV, 18: P-

17O. A. "Rediscovery by George Awoonor-Williams,"
gzlack Orpheus, No. 17, p. 61.

25.

 

 

 

212

acclaiming his identity in his living and doings. He once
said that his "pet aversions" are "poseurs and hypocrites
and righteousmen." One who refuses to be himself, is only
a hypocrite, and that is what Awoonor—Williams hates. The
poet's quest for the past is free from any sentimental
idealization, and therefore has transcended the temptation
facing the writers trying to recreate the past which/is
pointed out by Chinua Achebe:

Quite clearly there is a strong temptation to

idealize it [the past]—-to extol its good 18

pOlntS and pretend that the bad never eXisted.
That Awoonor-Williams cannot be charged with the guilt of
such idealization has also been remarked by another critic
who observes that the ”African way of life is not a romantic
ideal to him [Awoonor-Williams], it is a reality of which he

is still a part."19

Of Sorrow and Acidia: "I Heard A Bird Cry"

George Awoonor-Williams, like J. P. Clark, has
reserved the most clinching and resounding note of his poetry

for his longest and most ambitious poem, "I Heard A Bird

 

Cry."20 The major theme of the conflict of the indigenous
18"Poetry in Africa Today," Transition, IV, 18, p. 25.
19

O. A. "Rediscovery by George Awoonor—Williams,"
Black Orpheus, No. 17, p. 61.

20Published in Black Orpheus, No. 15 (August 1964),

23-31.

 

 

 

 

 

 

213

culture and the foreign one which has been the core of his
shorter poems, is emphasized in this poem more than in the
others. Also interwoven with this over—riding theme is the
resort to the communal gods in moments of crises, coupled
with the actualisation of the protagonist's fidelity to his
father's gods, borne out by his final initiation into the
cult of these gods. Serving as an introduction to the study
of this major poem are "Songs of Sorrow” and "Song of War,"21
of which poems "I Heard A Bird Cry" is an adumbration, even
though the determined spirit of war vindicated in “Song of
War" is antithetical to the ruinous inertia expressed in the
third part of the longer poem.

"Songs of Sorrow" opens with the treatment given to
the protagonist by Dzogbese Lisa22 that has led him "among
the sharps, of the forest," where he faces the usual dilemma
of being unable to return or to proceed. The same image of
excrement which has been observed before continues here in
"chameleon faeces" used for describing the "affairs of this
world." Here one can notice the difference between the high
and the low in the protagonist's society, which is given a

tragic overtone in "I Heard A Bird Cry," and consequent on

 

21The two poems are anthologised in Modern Poetry
From Africa, pp. 78—80.

22A kind of "divinity"; see J. P. Clark, "Poetry in
,Africa Today," Transition IV, 18, pp. 25-26.

t——_—'

 

 

214

the realisation of how futile life is to the low man, he
wishes to die--"I can only go beyond and forget." This
death wish is given prominence also in the longer poem.
The dilemma is reiterated in another image drawn, as usual,
on the local environment:

. . . I have been somewhere

If I turn here the rain beats me

If I turn there the sun burns me.
But he then realises, if only sardonically, that only cour—
age can help one continue living in this life of turbulence,
for the "firewood of this world/Is for only those who can
take heart."

From this point the reader is drilled through a list
of his sorrows: he has neither children nor relatives to
give him funeral rites at his death; life is merely a "great
wilderness," the rain beats him and "sharp stumps cut as
keen knives"; "erti's great household" is fallen; the man,
Agosu, who has been his only support is dead, and thus fig—
uratively:

. . . a snake has bitten me

My right arm is broken,

And the tree on which I lean is fallen.
The snake imagery recurs in "Song of Wart and more frequently
in "I Heard A Bird Cry." Because of these woes catalogued
he wishes to die--"I shall go beyond and rest"--and, like

Clark again, he questions the ancestors. He sends a message

to these ancestors through Agosu who has just died:

 

 

 

 

 

215

Tell Nyidevu, erti, and Kove [the ancestors]
That they have done us evil. . . .

Ask them why they idle there
While we suffer, and eat sand. . . .

And strangers walk over our portion.

Here for the first time, in this poem, the enemies are men-
tioned. They are strangers, the colonialists, of course.

To send a message to the dead through the dead, and to expect
succour from the dead may sound ridiculous, but this is part
of the belief system of the people. The poem ends with ire
and disgust, which makes the decision to fight to death in
"Song of War" a justifiable one.

In the ”Song of War" the determination to fight is
the theme. The enemies are more precisely named. Though
"the white man's guns boom" the natives will march "forward."
The white man (a representative name for the colonialists)
is the target. He must be fought. The protagonist satirises
the cowardly ones among them who, he says, "should fall back/
And live with the women." There is every sign of the offen—
sive being taken here. If the people should sit still and
let the white man take their land, it would be as calamitous
as the case of a mother who watches a snake bite her child:

Where has it been heard before

That a snake has bitten a child

In front of its own mother?
These lines are repeated in "I Heard A Bird Cry." The snake
imagery continues to appear. In vaunting tone, the poem

winds up with the resolution:

 

 

 

216

We shall die on the battlefield

We shall like death at no other place

Our guns shall die with us

And our sharp knives shall perish with us
We shall die on the battlefield.

In another poem, "The Sea Eats the Land at Home,"23
the enemy—destroyer is represented by sea, which "eats the
land at home" and destroys "cement walls" and carries away
"fowls" and a poor woman's "cooking pots and the ladles.“

The imagesof sea, rain, and storm are also rife in "I Heard
A Bird Cry.“ As before and after, the only resort is I'call-
ing on all the gods they worship/To protect them from the
angry sea." The woman who is the victim is Aku, who instead
of keeping her belongings out of reach of the surging sea,
weeps and calls on her ancestors and her gods. She is a
contrast to the woman in J. P. Clark's "Night Rain" (Chapter
V above), who keeps toiling in the “roomlet,” securing her
property. Otherwise, however, the two poems have the same
tragic overtone expressed by means of water imagery. Though,
while Awoonor-Williams uses an allegorical device to depict
the incursion of colonialism on the natives, Clark simply
portrays a sad occurrence at some sad moment of life. "The
Sea Eats the Land at Home" and the two poems which have been
dealt with here, provide a very good background to the under-

standing and appreciation of "I Heard A Bird Cry."

 

23Published in Modern Poetry From Africa, p. 81.

 

 

 

217

"I Heard A Bird Cry" can be subdivided into three
parts for the purpose of this study: (a) the part that
depicts the sorrows of the protagonist, (b) the part that
deals with the initiation ceremony, and (c) the part that
shows the dire need for war, and the inability of the people
to take up arms against their sea of troubles.

(a) The poem begins in the emblematic manner with
the picture of a dry tree "in the desert" and the birds that
build their nests upon it. In the same picture are the peo-
ple singing funeral songs, with their "eyes filled with
tears." Here then is a picture of desolation, death, and
grief. It is known at once that all is not well in the land.
The singing voice of the protagonist has "become the desert
wind." The protagonist, seeing their tears "running like
flood river" and as "bitter as the waters of the sea," asks
them why they are weeping. They have covered their heads
with their hands, an image which, as seen in Clark (Chapter V
above), symbolizes great sorrow and loss. It will be met
again in the third part of this poem. To help the people,
the protagonist goes "to perform the rites for my Gods/My
father's Gods I left behind/Seven moons ago." "Sisal ropes,‘
and "two white cocks/Whose Bloods will cleanse the stools"
will be used in this ceremony. Though these rites are per—
formed, the people must be ready to act their own parts in
this fight for freedom. They have to believe "in the resur-

rection of the living." This image parodies the Catholic

 

 

 

218

belief in the resurrection of the dead contained in the
Creed, and is of great significance in the context of the
poem. The poor people that are oppressed are living but need
to be resurrected from their state of subjection. They have
also got to remember "that the green fields/Are waiting for
the feet of the striving." This and the image of goats

doing "a war dance" which follows after the next three lines,
constitute a dramatic anticipation of the third section of
the poem, which will show the people unable to strive, and
the war impossible of realisation.

The list of the sorrows which have been the lot of
the people follows, all being dressed in traditional images.
The hut is destroyed by the storm; his father's house has
collapsed, the widows are beating the "funeral drums" (per-
haps for their dead husbands!), and they "put tears in the
eyes of the orphans by the road—side." The earthworm has
eaten "our new yams," the "smith shop is on fire." The
reader hears again of "funeral songs" and the "songs of the
rebel gods." The world is all "heat and restlessness," and
"drunken dogs are/Tramping precious things underfoot." This
image of "drunken dogs" occurs repeatedly throughout the
poem, sometimes varied by "mad dogs." There are "hyaenas"
looting and carrying "their loot'l away. Oppression is the
feature of these incidents, whether by nature or by animals.

But these oppressing agents are only symbolically used here.

 

 

 

 

219

They stand for the human oppressors. Anguish has made the
speaker ask, "What happens before the vulture's head is
naked?" As will be seen, the question is answered in the
very last few lines of the poem.

Things are proving unbearable for the protagonist.
In an analogous way he says that customs can even be breached
to salvage the situation. So the reader hears that

Though . . .

The prince should not hasten for the stool

And the young leopard
Should not be in haste to walk,

24

when "noises are in the air," that at the moment of crises,

The young leopard should stand up against the tree
And the prince should run for his father‘s stool.

In this way the "turbulent river” can become "calm again."
This is planting the idea of the necessity for action which

is the theme of the third section. But unfortunately, the
people have been dormant, and only weeping. The protagonist's
advice is that they should go to the fetish hut—-the "sacred
hut" where the "gone befores" are waiting for them.25 Pres-
ently, the reader will be led into the process of the initia—

tion, into the "sacred hut."

 

24"Stool" here means the stool of chieftaincy.

25Cf. Nwanodi's "Echoes of the Gone," in Icheke,

p. 21.

 

 

220

(b) The protagonist narrates how he himself was
initiated into the fetish cult. The celebrants "wound a
cloth around" his loins, and gave him "a fly—whisk" and a
"calabash" to hold. He and all the others there pledged to
the ancestors:

That you do not thirst for drink
When your palm trees are prospering.

This ShOWS that the people have cause for action, and have

 

all the necessary equipment for it. But if they fail to
act, they will simply be like someone whose palm tree is
productive of palm wine, but through laziness fails to get
the wine and drink.

Now comes the climax of the whole initiation. The
rejection of foreign ideals and the resumption of the indig-
enous mode of life are dramatised:

I put down my whiteman's clothes

And rolled a cloth

To carry the ram's head. . . .
This is central to Awoonor—Williams' poems dealing with the
conflict of cultures. We can remember at this point that the
protagonist has been jeered at by the pro-white-culture in "We
Have Found A New Land" (p. 187 above), where he is told that
he "cannot dress like that," that is, he cannot dress in the
native way. The protagonist next sang and danced and put his
hand "in the blood pot” according to the custom. There fol—
lows the short humorous passage that serves as a comic relief

in this grief-pervading poem. The season was that of “burning

 

 

 

221

feet,“ the sand was so hot that he could not dance steadily,
his feet having been "overpampered" by wearing shoes. So
the people around ”laughed/And said my feet have blundered."
One soon learns that all those who have been detribalised
cannot beat the drums again, and cannot respond to the drums
being beaten. They are like vultures who are unnecessarily

proud, while the faithful natives are like crOWS jeering at

 

these prodigals. The protagonist regrets his having left
the native culture for the foreign one:

I am the bird on the dung—hill
The birds flew and left me behind.

The excrement image is used again——"dunghill.“ So he re—
solves to carry the "fetish bell" and to invoke the ancestors.
What he will tell them is a re—enactment of the sor—

rows of the land: that "an evil snake" has bitten him and
he could not find "a stick to kill it" with. Here he says
for the third time in the poem: "Hush! I heard a bird cry."
In each case it is said after a reflection on the woes that
assail the land. The next evil in this part is that the
"lagoon waters are in storm," and then we hear,

I broke my paddle in the marshes

Mad dogs chased me

And I left my cloth on the dung—hill.
The persistent images keep coming——snake, storm, mad dogs,
dung—hill. This technique, as seen in Okigbo and Clark,
intensifies by reiteration. Here life is seen as a real

struggle. The protagonist is paddling on the roaring

  

RH»... ..n...~..oi........d..

 

 

222

turbulent sea of life. But at the end of the initiation,

one should feel that there will be inspiration for action.
Yes, the protagonist wears the fervent spirit of the newly
initiated: "The fetish drums are beating from Ghost's head,"
but as for the fetish priests, they are "in trance." En- \
trancement is the problem of the people. They are sleepy,

inactive; they are the victims of ennui.

 

(c) To prepare for the abortive tone of this section,
some calamitous events are noted. The "evil god“ is in the
water, some natives or the strangers are wearing "velvet" on
their heads. These are warned that a “dog/Does not bear a
child in public" and that the "fowl—stealing hyaena" cannot
steal by day. The fisherman cannot even catch fishes, for
the sea is “bad these days," and the wives of some natives
"have run away to many strangers.” Clark has pointed out
this evil in "Ivbie," II (Chapter V above). This is the
climactic point of the people's suffering. Retaliation is
overdue. If the people do not react they are no better than
the "eagle" that refuses to feed "its child," thereby making
the child "turn a beggar in the market place." They have
guns and gun powder, and they should not spare the powder and
suffer the wrongs.

The protagonist has started urging the people to
action. The proverbs mentioned in the preceding paragraph
are the most effective means of doing so in the traditional

way. But there does not seem to be any response from the

 

l.i|§

 

223

people. At this point the speaker regrets having gone at
all to ask what the problem is. Addressing them again with
the appealing and emotional "Listen, my countrymen," which
he has used repeatedly in the poem, he warns them that there
will be total destruction, for the "bush fire" does not
burn the bush and spare ”the bush-rope." The image of life
as a "stormy river," with men ”rowing a boat to ghost's land"
occurs again by way of emphasis, and the image of "journey

. . . a long journey" to the other world accentuates the
whole picture (cf. "The Longest Journey," p. 206 above).
He deprecates both himself and them. Since they are so
slovenly, death will be their final choice. He will even
ironically wear the "velvet" and a "gold chain" and "walk
a chiefly walk"-—a satire on the rich among them, whose
luxuriance is an obstacle to action.

The memory of the past when men were heroic assails
liis mind. Then the "mad dogs" could be killed, but the
'tribal heroes are no more. What he has around him now are
Inere "trancers." He should have stayed back home cleaning
'“the bush" that "has crowded the sacred hut," rather than’
ccnne to the chicken—hearted people who cannot take up a
kIIife and cut the web in which they are caught. Here the
lnish is heard again—-“I have just heard a bird cry."

All evil actions occur in the night: the "monster

-te1:rorises people"; the "evil child" is born in the night;

 

 

the smallpox god walks the night; evil doers roam about

then; and it was in the night that

. . . the white man deceived the chiefs
And took the young men to the battle front.

All these should inspire men to action at the break of day,
but it has not been so. Lamentable it is that men “are still
in their easy chairs," with pipes in their mouths. “They are

still under the baodad26

tree/Telling tales of long-ago." He
is not even listened to in public, for he is not rich enough.
This is unbearable, and he moans here as in "The Weaver Bird":
“Weaver birds came and ravaged my corn field." So for this
reason, he wishes to die. Other images of sorrow follow.
The image of a "cock laying an egg by the riverside" points
at the topsyturvydom of life; and that "a hawk came and
snatched it," indicates the totality of the disaster.

This normally leads to frustration. We hear the cry
of Ivbie again, as in Clark.

Some say we must cover our heads
With our hands, and burst into tears.

Ivbie, it can be recollected, is the placing of the hands
over the head as a sign of great sorrow and distress. In
fact, Awoonor-Williams' poem is another "Ivbie“ minus the
latter's defiant power and minus the incisive venom of the
(:larkiSh wit. Both in theme and the use of images drawn on '
the traditional life of the people, both poems have a lot in

C ommon o

 

’—

26The word should be "baobab."

 

 

 

225

However Awoonor—Williams' protagonist refuses to
cry. Though his clothing be only a "smelling" one, he will
put it on and ”speak in the market place." He will remind
the people of their passiveness at the time “the poor died
of hunger on Modui hillock." This is put in form of the

elegiac question (which also has been noted in connexion

with Clark's "Ivbie"), and transliterated from the vernac-

ular mode of speech:

I shall ask them, ask them

That when the sea was sterile

And the poor died of hunger of Modui hillock?

Where were You?

If any persons do not want to listen to him, to hear his
song, he further says, let "them patch their ear-holes with
clay." Repeating the snake imagery already remarked in
"Song of War“ he cannot believe that a snake can bite a
child "in front of its mother." The rich are more to be
blamed for this lack of action than the poor men; but the
tgod of retribution will wreak vengeance on them.

From now to the end of the poem the protagonist's
disgust mounts higher and higher. Despair characterises his
(damped spirit. The rich men demand dressing in "whiteman's
cc>at" as a prerequisite for attending the “goat feast." This
is an abomination in the land where sacrifices are being
(affered to the gods to cleanse the land of the white man's

EXDllution. An allusion is made to Christ's triumphant entry

into Jerusalem; to His kindness and mercy. Though Christ

 

 

 

 

 

226

wept for the "golden city" of Jerusalem, the protagonist
asks not for a golden city. His prayer is simply the poor‘
man's: "That our corn should fill the cobs/And the sea
retain her fertility." The land has been impoverished; it
is hunger-stricken. Even though the prisoners are released
there are still the "tears of anguish/And the agony of

hunger."

 

As the poem draws to a close the reader hears the

protagonist's voice cracking, we feel his heart failing.
The voice has fallen on dull and deaf ears, the heart is'
sagging under the burden of Oppression, remorse, and anger.
.A couple of images drawn around the vulture summarise his
\Noe and dejection. The first answers the question asked)
about the vulture's bald head (see p. 219 above):

The vulture says, it says,

Because helpers are not there

That is why

I have shorn my head

Awaiting my funeral.
'This is pathetic. Complete disillusionment and resignation
txo death result from the acidia the people have been suffer-
.ing from. The vulture represents the oppressed here. But
.in.the next stanza, the "vultures" represent the oppressors.
ffhese are the "vultures" that shook the "rafters" of the
lyrotagonist's heart's "house." These vultures are flowing

txndard "the land of my fore-fathers." That is, he wishes

‘they'were dead. If they are dead, they can feast, for

 

 

 

227

It was in the season of burning feet,
And the feast is ready for us.

There is some relief in the end. The hOpe is that
the oppressors are dead, so that the indigenous culture may
live. ,The "feast" is the "goat feast," the feast in the
"sacred hut," the feast Of the ancestral kind. But the '
peace expected has not been achieved through any action on
the part Of the people. This is another point Of similarity
with "Ivbie," which ends in the same tone. In Awoonor-
Williams' poem, it is probably the fore-fathers that are
bringing the vultures to their own world, that is they have

killed the oppressors.

Conclusion

 

St. Clair Drake, in discussing various "African Cul-
ture traits," states the judgment of the educated elite on
them. Among those traits which are "Approved 'if [they do]
Not Hamper Progress' are the 'retention Of native clothes,'
the 'ancestor cult,‘ and the 'celebration of funerals.'"
These are what Awoonor-Williams has been fighting for in his
Poetry in general. The case for native clothes and initia-
tion into the ancestral cult is particularly made in "I
Heard A Bird Cry." Drake points out at the same time that
Christianity and Islam are also approved for retention, which
does not seem to receive Awoonor—Williams' sanction. Among

the "culture traits“ that are "Highly Disapproved" is

 

 

 

 

 

228

“consulting oracles for serious decisions."27 As has been

noted in this chapter, Awoonor-Williams approves of such
consultation, specifically in "Desire" and more so in "I
Heard A Bird Cry," and his views are shared, as seen before,
by R. S. Rattray (see p. 210 above).

All said and done, the problem of conflict Of cul-
tures underlies most of Awoonor—Williams' work. In discus-
sing the problems facing the modern African in his present
stage of "transition," Colin M. Turnbull Observes that the
urban.and the rural dwellers have different problems:

In the large towns and cities the overall problem
is largely one of trying to think and act like a
nation, Of trying to forget the tribal differences.
For the individual it is more a problem of trying
to reconcile a hard-dying tribal conscience with
non—tribal "fait accompli," Of finding some means
for justifying the new way of life that has been
forced on him.

But as for the rural dweller, continues Turnbull:

His problem is a different one, because while the
urban African has had his way of life changed by
the sheer force of circumstance, the rural African
still has a certain element of choice—-he has to
make the decision for himself. It is not a ques—
tion of finding an excuse or compromise, it is a
question Of deciding between the Old and the new
in which the old is still dominant but the new is
plainly more powerful. .

 

27Drachler, ed. African Heritage, pp. 183-187.

 

28The Lonely African (New York, 1962), pp. x-xi.

 

 

 

229

Mr Turnbull has a little overgeneralised the situa-
tion. He seems to think that once an African gets into the
city or town, he must necessarily seek a via media between
the native culture and the foreign one. Turnbull does not
think that the urban dweller has a choice. By implication,
he cannot even reject the imported culture that is "forced
on him"! The truth Of the matter is that the urban African
tries to select what he thinks useful to him from the foreign
ways of life. With this he merges the African way Of life.
Thus he is cautiously and consciously endeavouring to make a
synthesis of the African and foreign ways Of life, which
synthesis Awoonor-Williams tells us in “The Anvil and the
Hammer," is not even realisable.

As for the rural dweller, it may not be wholly true
that he has not such conflict to face. The influence of the
foreign culture reaches the villages also, though the extent
to which he experiences the conflict and how much of the
foreign culture he is willing to accept may not be the same
as in the case Of the urban dweller. Awoonor-Williams has
made it abundantly clear that both the urban and the rural
dwellers have had each his own share of the bitter cup of
experience resulting from this clash of cultures.

With specific reference to West Africa, Turnbull

further comments on the Colonialist—African relation:

 

 

 

230

In other parts of Africa, however, particularly

on the West coast, feelings run much less high

[than in East, Central and South Africa] and

while the Africans have seen more direct bene—

fits from the presence of the white civilisation,

the Europeans, by virtue of their political,

economic, and domestic status, have not had to

rely on a policy of subjugation. Here at least

we might look for some meeting of the two worlds

that has found a form of success that does not

mean victory for the one and annihilation for

the other.2

Though this seems to represent the situation faith—

fully as it is, say in the former British West African
territories, the relationship has not been as smooth and
sweet as that. There is no direct, overt physical aggression
or suppression, but it cannot be contested that in moral,
ideological, social and educational, and religious spheres
there sparks off from time to time dangerous disagreement
and hostility. As has been pointed out earlier in this study,
the colonial poets and the modern ones alike have clearly
Igortrayed this conflict in varying degrees. Among them it
<:an be said that George Awoonor—Williams, more than any

(other, has almost entirely structured his poetry on this

strain of oppositional affinity.

 

291bid., p. 114.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER VII

LIFE PATHOLOGY: LENRIE PETERS' POETRY

Turning the stained and fated pages
Was like fumbling with soft life
Melted years mouthed into the ocean
Of pages clouded and wet with tears.
("Turning the Pages of My Diary")

General Observation

To John Pepper Clark, life is a scene of tragedy;
to George Awoonor—Williams it is full of rabid dogs and
oppression; to Lenrie Peters it is diseased in all its
parts. In Clark, man.is struggling in vain against chaos;
in Awoonor—Williams, he is invoking his ancestors and gods
for help and protection; in Peters he is sick with the sick—
ness of life and is trying to run away from the surging
shark-ridden sea of life. Peters sees life as physically,
Inorally and ethically, and intellectually plagued. There is
no assurance of permanent security either in this life of
"centuries plagued" or in death which merely "deludes" men.
Society is not a safe hospital for the cure of the "gout" of
lruman life. However, like a medical practitioner, which he
is, Peters, more than either Clark or Awoonor—Williams,

envisages greater hopes for mankind, and from time to time

231

 

232

can see man convalesce momentarily before catching another
disease.

In Lenrie Peters' poetry we see the artist who is
"fighting chaos with order," for "what is art if it is not
fighting the negative bad, facing it with good?" If art is
"Philosophic"; if it is "religious" and if it is "science,"
then indeed, Peters' poetry is art.1 More than any other
modern West African poet so far studied in this work he has
successfully combined reflectiveness with lyricism, so that
while one cries over the sorrowful sense beneath that scalds,
one also enjoys the pleasure of the overlaying veneer of
poetic beauty that soothes. Peters, like the others, how—
ever, has handled the themes Of suffering, death, cultures,

and love, but he leaves on them the distinctive seal of his

individuality.
Human Insecuripy

In his diagnosis of the problems Of life, Peters
has eXplOited his experiences as a surgeon, and the poems
pass before us as piteous pictures Of mankind in torment.
The reader sees parachute men descending from the air and

suspects there must be something wrong up there. Thus

1Jonathan Kingdon, "Reflections," Transition, II,
6 and 7 (October 1962), 36.

 

233

2 deals with this sad scene where the

"Parachute Men Say"
breath of the landing men goes away, with their "arteries
talking." The men learn "to sustain hope," for the ground
seems sunk down to the centre of the earth and out of reach;
and when they land finally, it is with a jerk that "puts out
the joint." This poem contains the traces of many strands
that run through Peters' poetry: the futility of man's
attempt to scan the world, philosophic statements like "We
are always at the starting point," (which incidentally is
reminiscent of T. S. Eliot), and the frequent use of medical
and biological images--"arteries talking"——which show the
real poet-surgeon at work.

Nature, especially the seasons, is not a pleasant
thing to Lenrie Peters. Autumn is often a harbinger of
gloom and symptom of sickness, desire, restiveness, and some-
times death. In "Autumn Comes" (p. 7) the very first stanza,
employing his usual biological imagery, shows the ”veins
tingle" and the "blood" cool "with restless prowling." The
second stanza goes on in a Dylan Thomas manner to associate
liuman worries with copulation:

. . . desire insinuates the flea under the pants3
Desire for the fire .

 

2Lenrie Peters, Poems (Ibadan, Nigeria, 1964), p. 6.
.AJJ.subsequent references to this book will be shown in the
loody of this study in parentheses.

3Cf. "I sit and watch the worm beneath my nail," from
Izylan Thomas's "If I Were Tickled by the Rub Of Love," in
gaollected Poems, p. 14.

 

 

 

 

 

 

234

Desire for the warmth
And the freshly made bed
Where joining heads
Two will sow the seed. . . .
Each of these sorrows is preceded by "Autumn" or brought by

it. In this poem, darkness stands for gloom or death.
Winter is a misty dark season when things are virtually
dead, to come to life again in Spring; and this winter is
ushered in by "Autumn." So it is in the Winter that "the
crisp crunching air/Drops her curtain of mist/And the sun
slides/Apologetically out of sight." Also, with the arrival
of autumn "ants hurry," and "sore-throated birds/Think of
taking the cure." Not only men, therefore, but animals also
are sick, and the thought of the "cure" for all of them
haunts Peters as much as it does the victims.

In "Autumn Burns Me,"4 there are the same kinds of
stress among men and natural phenomena. The protagonist is
tossed from "summer fatigue" to "a new Bridge of Sighs"--to
"Autumn" which "burns me with/primaeval fire." The "heart"
(of the earth "bleeds," "Great trees fall," and one finds
riothing but decay on earth. But in spite of these disasters,
'the protagonist would still love "in wonder; for autumn is
‘monder and wonder is hope."

One would normally feel that man should find rest

zand security in his home. But the poem, "We Have Come Home"

 

*—

4See "Six Poems," Black Orpheus, No. 16 (October
11964), 25-30.

 

8
f.

 

 

235

(p. 8), one of the very few of Peters' poems that speak of
colonialism, tries to indicate that neither in the war abroad
nor at home has the protagonist found enough security.
Though the "wars" fought are "bloodless" ones, and though
"our boots [are] full of pride," the fighters come home "with
sunken hearts," with the "soul" completely massacred. This
is a state of demoralisation and deceit. Uncertainty hugs
their minds and hearts in the midst of further dangers
preached by the "gurgling drums," the howling "forest" and
the appearance of the "dark sun"--(an early pointer to Peters
as a paradoxer):

Night threatens

Time dissolves

And there is no acquaintance with tomorrow.
The people are still singing the "songs of other lands"; the
"death march" violates "our ears," and their "love and tears"
are still determined by "the spinning coin"--by lot, by
chance. Here, this writer feels, is a reference to the
retention of foreign cultures after independence has been
‘Mon. (Peters' country, Gambia, became independent in 1965.)
The poet handles this idea of retaining foreign things——"big
<:ars and air-conditioning plants"--again in his prose work.5

The description of the home, the country, is done in

lines that are remarkable for their lyrical and imaginative

loeauty. The "home" is by the green foothills and it is here

 

—'

5The Second Round (London, 1965).

 

 

 

 

 

236

that they have returned

To drink from the cup

Of warm and mellow birdsong

To the hot beaches

Where boats go out to sea

Threshing the ocean's harvest

And the hovering, plunging

Gliding gulls shower kisses on the waves.
The music Of Peters' poems lies more in the long, open vowels
than in alliteration or rhyme. But whenever these two come
in, it is with ease and spontaneity. Note "gliding gulls"
for instance. It is in this very "home" so well painted,
that the reader finds "famine" and "drought," and "tortured
remnants" who are supported only be a "sudden spirit,"

That spirit which asks no favour

of the world

But to have dignity.
jHere is a quest for human dignity. The sin of injustice is
<one that Peters has great aversion for.

"On a Wet September Morning" (p. 17) unites the theme

(Df human suffering with T. S. Eliot's philOSOphical views.
'The images in the poem are consistently of hate, danger,
:plague, amputation, and waste. The "vultures hate them-
selves," "sea gulls lay their eggs . . . under the cracking
inaves," the "centuries" are "plagued," and the protagonist's
feet are "amputated" and buried "in soft sand." His life is
'that of struggle, Of trying to leap out of ”a shark's way,"

ea shark with "cutting teeth" that are aimed "at my Vitals,

rust my feet." The changes in the world are such as bring

 

 

 

 

 

237

opposites together, with the "world under the sea," the “sea
under the earth," and the "sky in the sea." This unification
is so just as "the true life is death," another paradox, so
"distinction ends." Shortly, one hears of the "silent yell,“
a cry of pain, ringing from the past to the present and the
future. It rings to
. . . the farthest end
Where the amoeba becomes
The fire, water, and air,
and also "to the other end" where ”planets" become "conti—
nents"
Deep in the future
That is darker and older
Than the past.
The reference to "amoeba" the "most primitive animal" is a
biological allusion;6 and echoes of T. S. Eliot are heard
in the unification of opposites and the unity of time. The
reader hears this latter again in "a new present/Which is
the future," which can be compared with the following lines
from "Burnt Norton":
Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
This is the moment of intuition, the moment in the
"rose garden,” the ecstatic instant, when Peters' protag-

onist could be lifted "higher than myself/From the palsied

'hand of destruction." It is in the timeless moment—-the

 

6See I. F. Henderson and W. D. Henderson, A Dictio—
nagy of Biological Terms,ed. J. H. Kenneth (Princeton, N. J.,
1963), p. 22.

 

’an-

   

238

moment out Of life, when unity of being is possible-~that

 

he could forget the sorrows of this life. But unfortunately,
it is only a moment, not a century, for soon after that

meteoric flash, he hears the vibrations of life again—-

"new awareness" and "care born Of feeling," fear, and the '
"pestilence of thought" that is "cradled in a.wet pulsating VT
stone." From that short relieving vision, he returns to the i
"desert waste" with "rancid taste." This we learn in "In 1»

 

the Vibrations" (p. 19).

According to Peters the taste of life is really sour;
the weather is rough; men are drowning in the sea of life,
while their neighbours watch unconcerned. This lack of
sympathy is the chief message of "They Have Stood Waiting"
(p. 28), as it has been of Clark's short but penetrating
"Empathy" (see Chapter V above). Peters shows here the
pitiable people waiting for others to rescue them with boats,
'but their hope that will never be satisfied is only like
"trusting in the empty hand/Of fate and all her retinue."
Ironically, the reader is told that "pleasure boats are not/
for the rescue." The contrast is striking. One group is in
a desperate situation, and the only thing that prevents the
(BXpected help is the pleasure being enjoyed by the other
«group. Humanity has denied humanity; but not that only, the
lueavenly bodies are not any more sympathetic:

The night sentinels of the sky
Shiver unconcernedly.

 

. Is...
‘ _

 

".

 

239

Here Clark is met once more. Indeed in many respects Peters'

view Of life is as sardonic as that of Clark. Both of them
are satiric also, though Clark's biliousness is scarcely
equalled by the righteous and sympathetic anger expressed
by the gentle friend of humanity, Peters.

So then the victims of this human hard-heartedness
have to continue waiting in the "inexhaustible hope" that
help which never comes will yet come. For them

Time is like the smoke

Which smarts the eyes

Brings out the tears

Leaving on the blurred horizon

The inexhaustible hope.
These lines are beautiful, even if blurred with the tears
that have "stained" the pages of his "diary." Hope is
characteristic Of his sufferers, and only accentuates their
predicaments, for the more they hope, the more meagre the
chances of its fulfilment grow.

This is one Of the paradoxes of life, and to Peters
life teems with embarrassing conflicts. "The Mind" (p. 29),
for instance, deals with one aspect of this kind of situa—
tion. "The mind is the irony of man's greatness":

At once the cancellation
And the riddle
Which shrouds the magnificent darkness.

'The same mind in its ambivalent capacity is compared to "the

<iesert winds." The earth is a "desert waste," as seen in

 

 

 

1d

. , * ammusmmw... .2

 

 

‘g.’

 

 

 

In

 

240

"In the Vibrations" (p. 238 above), an echo of Eliot's
"Waste Land" idea. It is a mere empty space with the mind
ranging all of it:

The mind

Is like the desert winds

Bloughing7 the empty spaces.
But this mind is capable of reaching the past, the "ageless
shore" to "find the barren senses there . . . shipwrecked on
the tides of passion." Even if it is itself a "riddle," it
finds the "sum total of existence" and becomes "the explana—
tion and the vision.”

Peters' is no mere psychological quest into the
region of the mind, but a wrestling with life in its totality.
It is no mere abstract speculation on the theme Of epistemol-
ogy, but rather a humanistic concern about life as man finds
it. But even though the mystery is not resolved, remaining
still "magnificent darkness," man can rely on the capabil-
ities of the mind. This does not reduce his sorrows, however.

It is not like that in the physical world. The chaOs
of the mental world, the world of the mind, is an internal
affair, but when all the aspects of man--mental, physical,
and ethical, are involved, the problem becomes more over—
‘Nhelming. In this connexion, for Peters, unlike William

jBlake or W. B. Yeats, contrarieties have not led to progres-

sion. "There Where the Dim Past and Future Mingle" (p. 36)

 

7Should be "Ploughing" this writer feels.

 

 

 

 

 

241

demonstrates life as a series of conflicts, and man as no

more than constantly poised in dilemma. The present is, of

course, the meeting place of the past and the future, and it

is here that the past and future, "nebulous hopes and aspira-

tions," converge to plague man. Here also "truth and untruth '
struggle,” the body grows old; it is here that f1

. . . all opposites arrive
To plague the inner senses, but do not fuse.

 

That is the problem. If after the storm of the
struggle of the Opposites, there follows the calm of fusion,
there will be no grief. But it is not so, and that is why
the protagonist holds his head and would "contrive/TO stop
the constant motion." To die? That is the surest way of
stopping this motion—without-progression. It is not only
the restless pursuits of men that upset the protagonist.
Clark has been upset by such. But Peters adds an extra
dimension, comprising the ethical or moral. As has been
.pointed out earlier in this chapter, the sickness of the
\Norld is all around. Thus the poem ends on a note of moral
quest:

There where the need for good
And "The doing good" conflict.
There I lie.
'The prostrate, dejected, immobile position of the protagonist

is emphasized throughout the poem by means of the refrain,

"There I lie."

 

 

 

242

It would seem that the "present“ is the main carrier
of life diseases. In "The Present Reigned Supreme“ (p. 39),
we see the present depicted in a bad light. It is like
"shallow floods," the "roots” of those living now are merely
"sapless." The picture is that of a surface without depth,
appearance without substance. The question of morality comes

up again:

 

Cultivated weeds have grOWn where we led
The Virgins to the water's edge.

Everything has turned ghastly. Instead of men living in
solid houses, the reader finds "new skeletons" in a "house
without a shadow." This kind of home has no security. It is
the same house the protagonist has returned to in "We Have
Come Home." After he has wandered, an aberrant, over the
inorld, this ghost "house"

. . . is all that is left
To greet us on the home coming. . . .

Furthermore, one sees this kind of ugly present in
"The Fire Has Gone Out" (p. 41), where there is nothing left
but "aching gout.” The past was better, for it was "warm,"
and people were drinking, and there was "Juno with a tune."
The good aspect of Juno is alluded to here, that is "a wife

<goddess rather than a mother goddess,"8 and with their wives

 

8Juno is the Roman name for Hera, the daughter of
Cronus and Rhea and wife of her brother Zeus. See G. M.

Kirkwood, A Short Guide to Classical Mythology (New York,
1959), p. 48.

 

. is.-
L

 

243

beside them men were happy in the past in the protagonist's
world.

Here again one notices the use of biological images.
"Gout" and "arteries" occur. The "arteries stiffen," there
is a "cold shroud," and desolation marks the home. This
indicates that "death is at the door." As will be seen
later, Lenrie Peters is quite conscious of death in his
poetry, both as a physical thing and from the point of View
of its philosophical meaning.

Sometimes in his depiction of anguish, Peters, like
Clark and Awoonor-Williams, concentrates on the figure of a
woman planted deep in sorrow where she lives or half—lives,
the very embodiment of loss and langour. Clark shows such
a picture in "Night Rain," Awoonor-Williams in "The Sea Eats
the Land at Home," and now Peters in "She Sat Between the
Fire-Stones" (p. 40). Peters' woman resembles Awoonor-
vvilliams' more than she does Clark's, for she is utterly
incapable of struggling against the odds facing her. As
seen in Chapter V, the woman in "Night Rain" is able to
struggle against the spreading water in her room.

In Peters' poem the woman is "wrinkled, bespectacled,
and lost.” Her loss of a son who was twenty-one has so dis—
tracted her that she has lost all mental stability. Her
thoughts are "flickering through the flame"——a beautiful but

sad line. The only thing she can hold for support is

 

 

 

 

244

“darkness"--"And grasped a handful of darkness." Sitting
near the fire, the heat which should warm her rather startles
her:
She moved her slippered feet
Was starled9 by the heat
Which was like wild devouring tomorrow
Bringing its ecstasies and sorrow.
Here the past keeps the present sorrowful, and the thought of
the future distracts her the more. She loses the sense of
time, and cannot distinguish between yesterday, today, and
tomorrow. She cannot remember when she should have "scrubbed
the floor." Then in the last three lines of the poem, Peters
presents a puzzling remark:
No matter; When the thought has gone
Man crumbles into the ball
Which rolls to prevent the fall.

As in the four lines just quoted before these three,
one finds rhymes here. Peters does not seem to set out to
Inake his lines rhyme, quite unlike Clark. But he is a para-
doxer, which Clark is not. "Man crumbles" here, but still
the fall is prevented! The only thing that prevents the fall
is the "ball" which "rolls." The "ball" can stand for the
(earth which keeps rotating and revolving; and it is these
Inotions that help keep it in place. Lenrie Peters' lines
can be lyrical and charged at the same time, and over such

lines one has to pause in order to plumb the depth of the

poet's mind.

 

9Should be "startled" this author thinks.

 

 

’1»

 

245

While pitying the woman that lost a son, the reader
is at the same time asked to pity the protagonist, whose song
has been suppressed. "Forgotten Song" (p. 32) depicts the
mocking of the efforts of the protagonist, who is endeavour-
ing to resuscitate his forgotten song. On the opposite side
of the coin, the reader sees the picture of the protagonist
ridiculing what seems to be an inordinate ambition of men to
"traffic" with the heavens—-"If I Was Asked" (p. 38).

The former poem seems to be dealing with the same
theme of the suppression of both the native poetry and the
efforts of the natives to exhume it, which Okigbo and Clark
have treated. The tone is pathetic. Though the protagonist
knows that the forgotten song is "untamed," when the "harsh"
derisive "laughter dies," he will revive the song. The first
stanza of the song is very revealing. One hears of the song
‘buried "under the egg heap," of the "voice" that "broke"

Before it learned to speak

Before the years

Of bird—footed sleep

Scattered nerves

And honey-soaked memory

Seeped from

The needled brain. . . .
'These lines vindicate beautifully the presence of powerful
.imagination and luminous Vision behind this creation. The
3poem is humble and shows the protagonist self—confident.

This contentment with the ordinary things around is

given.greater emphasis in the other poem, "If I Was Asked."

 

 

 

 

 

246

The protagonist would not camp "out in space." He would
rather die than meddle with "this confounded puzzle" which
would "only represent/My innate discontent." If people hate
to live with him, to see his "face," he wishes that they
would exile him to a "deserted piece of earth," where he
will "represent/The non-progressive element." This is
satirical. The progressives, of course, would be those who
are prying into "space.9 If instead of a wild desert, he
were offered the whole earth as a reward for "traffic up in
heaven," he would not accept it, for the earth is as poor as
either the desert or the heavens.

Here one remembers what John Donne says in "The First

.Anniversarie":

And freely men confesse that this world's spent,
When in the Planets, and the Firmament
They seeke so many new; then see that this

Is crumbled out againe to his Atomies.
(11.209-212)

This is a timely statement prophetic of the scientific inter—
est in space today. Such a scientific quest to exPlore the
lieavenly bodies, could only make Peters' protagonist laugh

At what appears daft
Cows that have jumped the moon.

'The disease of the brain is of course madness. But this is
a jaundiced way of looking at what many people may term ambi-

'tion and manifestation of the human capabilities. However,

 

 

 

_—i

10The Complete Poetry, pp. 185-197.

 

 

‘ I, {i t . h
. R 1 ~ . I“.
i I. r‘ ,I "
I , ‘f ..g ‘ l// . 1 '
l " ' ' i _ .

247

 

our protagonist sees it as unnecessary: He will continue

his traffic here on earth, and leave the heavens to them-

selves.

Social Decadence

John Donne tells us again:

Shee is dead; shee is dead: when thou knowst this,

Thou knowst how lame a cripple this world is.
(11.237-238)

To Donne, Mistress Elizabethlhnuqris the very incarnation of
purity and virtue, and with her death, the world is bereft
of all that is good. Now Lenrie Peters laments "crippled
manhood" and in some of his poems goes on to show how this
has come about. He selects specific scenes and incidents to
illustrate how decayed the society has grown.

"She Came In Silken Drapes" (p. 10) is both an
exposition and a satire. A whore is depicted in her invasion
against man. Peters goes back to Roman and Greek mythology
to find suitable apparel for dressing the lady. She is
"'Veiled' Artemis," carrying her sword and "that forbidden
thing" which is "less clumsy in a dream." Artemis, as we
Tknow is the "virgin goddess of the hunt," and she is an

"archer."12 But the "Artemis" of our poem is "Veiled"; she

 

llIbid.

12See Kirkwood, A Short Guide, p. 17.

 

 

 

 

248

is not the virgin type, but one disguised as a virgin. What
she brings is truly poison of the ”Coral Snake,“ which is
like "Saturn's mystery." Saturn is the Roman name for Cronus.
Cronus married his sister Rhea; "cut off the genital organs
of his father"; and from the "blood that fell from them to
the ground" the Furies sprang up. In spite of this awful
history, Cronus became a good ruler, and when he was reigning,
there was no "sorrow, sickness, or old age." People did not
have to work, "for the land produced abundance without
toil."l3 This is rather mysterious, just as the love which
the lady in the poem brings is poison to the man.

In more general terms, this lady is further described.
She is a "butterfly/With the voiceless cry." Two implica—
tions of flirtation and sneakiness are there. A dreadful
tyrant, she is the huntress of "crippled manhood." Other
images in the poem are quite fitting to the occasion. She
walks in the "mist," for evil wants darkness, never light.
Like the current that "feeds by exhaustion," she is a para-
site sucking life out of men. All this is betrayal of the
real meaning of love, and that is why the poem ends with an
apostrophe to "Love." "Love" is now a "lusterless word,"
Inisused and ”bathed in blood." The protagonist wishes
therefore to "wash” "Love" like the "frenzied gold Sifter,"

and to lead "Love" "over the phallic mound"

 

 

l3Ibid., pp. 32-33.

 

 

 

 

249

To the crystal spring
Where I have found
The purest living thing.

This attack on women of this class continues in
other poems. In "A Tree Stares Back" (p. 25), which in
general ridicules man's lack of courage while even a tree,
dogs, a ground-worm react against any assault on them, we
notice that

. . . women

Hug, kiss and strangle you

Then leave you like the dead wood

To house a toad

Before you can reach them.
It seems that women contribute considerably to making man a
cripple. This very tone is not only maintained, but also
intensified in "Clawed Green Eyed" (p. 26). The “Feline of
night“ has palsied breasts and sells "old boot." "Feline"
links with "Veiled" in "She Came In Silken Drapes," both of
which connote hypocrisy. She is associated with lameness and
exhaustion (another word which appears in the other poem).
So one hears of "Coconut bellied" but “Unyielding Copra";
the exhausted gland, fatigued love, "Worm tunneled sod," and
"Prostituted fruit of Eve," all used to describe her. The
last three lines are thrusts at once at her and at men who

use her:

Friend of the falling star
Victim of the lonely bed.

Why "lonely?" Because she is a victim mostly to bachelors,

 

 

 

250

whose beds should be "lonely.” Society is against her and
"prudes" hound her for destruction.

Another poem concerned with sex is of a rather
ambivalent nature. ”Every Time They Shut the Gates," (p. 16)
seems to concern a girl inhibited sexually because she is
locked up inithe convent, or a boy being prevented from mak—
ing love to the girl there. Another tone in the poem seems
to be against those who oppose the restriction: "The lazy
crowd makes haste/To put them in their place.“ Except for
this, the general trend of the poem is the complaint by
either the boy or the girl. The point of annoyance here is
that the authorities, whoever they may be, forbid "love mak—
ing" after "eight.” These are called the "conceited few."
The "restrictions“ are described as "confused." This writer
does not think that the poet is attacking the people who are
restricting "love making" in the late hours of the night so
much as the critics of this regulation. He is consistently
opposed to corruption and scandal throughout his poetry, and
so it must be the reckless libertine (girl or boy) who wishes
to have unrestricted liberty, that is the object of attack.

It is not only in the area of sexual matters that
things have gone wrong with society. There are other ail-
ments which have not eluded the vigilance of the poet. For
instance, in the poem ”They Still Walk Raw-footed" (p. 27),

night "marauders" constitute the pus on the sore of society,

 

 

 

 

which must be washed off for the sore to heal. These people

make use of the night only, walk along thorny avenues to
evade capture and recognition. The reference to "the knowing
graves" which "heave with despair" may imply the graves of
those probably murdered by these robbers. It is regrettable
that these enemies of their fellow human beings still live,
"still swim life—jacketed" in the very "quick sands“

Where cruising sharks make their bed
And wait for the marauders from the land. ~

The protagonist plainly wishes the sharks would devour them.

No less serious a jibe is thrown at those who abuse
moderation and decency. Such is seen in "After They Put
Down Their Overalls" (p. 30), where there are those who, as
soon as they are back from work, rush to the bars and begin
to "swallow the hook of imported liquor." The word "hook"
is quite effective. What the hook is to fish, excessive
drinking is to man: the fish dies; the man loses his head
and sometimes dies. Their thirst is like the "Hyena's."
The simile recalls Awoonor—William's use of the word in "I
Heard A Bird Cry," (see Chapter VI above), where he speaks
of "stray hyenas“ carrying "their loot away." The hyena is
carnivorous, and so dangerous to other animals.

In the same way the drunkards in Peters' poems are
quite dangerous to the community. They are often exhibiting

"the arrogance of doubt/As they lie in refined stupor."

 

 

 

 

’1.

 

(252

Oxymoron is another favourite device of Peters', which of
course still vindicates him as a paradoxer. The abuse of

the intellect is another heavy charge the poet brings against
these defaulters. When they have drunk too much wine, being
thus "hypnotised by the bees," they become "less sure than
when they took the potion." The use of "bees" may be appro- P
priate if the poet has been referring to "palm wine" which

attracts bees. However, "imported liquor" is not defined.

 

As in other poems dealing with social offenders, there is
also a wish here that Nature may prove vindictive on them.
It is no longer "sharks," here it becomes the "sun's anger"
that should punish them.
Another area with which the poet concerns himself

is the political. "Stand Up For Yourselves" (p. 31) is both
exhortatory and satirical:

Tell us what you like

Not what we ought

Before the toad-bellies

Belch us out

And leave us there to rot.
"Toad-bellies" echoes "house a toad" in "A Tree Stares Back"
(p. 25), and ”Belch" is carried forward from "After They Put
Down Their Overalls" (p. 30). In all these poems these words
have sinister connotations. This method of word linkage, as
we have seen in J. P. Clark, makes for unity. The protagoe
nist of the present poem is urging the ordinary people to

fight for their rights. It is what they need now that they

should demand.

 

 

 

1,
..

253

Then there is the attack on the tired "professionals"
who discuss culture in a "language from the moon." These men
"have fed too long" on "green apples," and as such they now
dislike "Fruit," and horribly enough, "find more comfort/in
the lavatory." Their mischief may bring them not "gold" but
"hell." A wish for evil, malediction, closes the poem. This
is the method of one who is disappointed by his fellow men
who have degenerated morally.

What specific misdemeanour is being attacked in this
poem is not quite clear to me. But there is the general
sense of trying to save the poor from oppression. In the
last poem in this section, however, the poet becomes more‘
specific. "Where Are the Banners Now" (p. 42) is an attack
on the society which has fought for freedom and law, but
which has in turn abused the same freedom and law. The poet
becomes more emotional than before. The patriots have led
the people to the "shrine of freedom." Their "slogans"
which they "threw about like fireworks" and which "disfigured
the alien face . . . have landed like meteorites" to wound
their own children. Even the "flags" which have been hung
high to signify the "death of our recent history"--the death
of colonialism--now "hang limp." Everything points to dis-
order in the land which is supposed to have gained its free—
dom. There are the "tattered crowd," and the women who are

in sorrow because "their men are made impotent with guilt."

 

 

wm‘"___r. _r *

 

 

 

 

254

This can be described as the replacement of "foreign colo-
nialism" with "native colonialism." The promises made to
the people by the ruling body have not been honoured, and
the protagonist demands that the "tablets" be brought again,
"on which the promises and the Law stand out in gold."

This is precisely what made S. T. Coleridge disclaim
the French Revolution in "France: An Ode." When the Revolu-
tion started, Coleridge hailed it, because France was fight—
ing for her freedom:

When France in wrath her giant-limbs upreared,
And with that oath, which smote air, earth, and sea
Stamped her strong feet and said she would be free,
Bear witness for me, how I hOped and feared.
(11.22-25)
When, however, the French peOple invaded Switzerland (in
1798) Coleridge became enraged. For the very seekers after
freedom wanted then to deprive others of their own freedom.
So, addressing Freedom in the fourth stanza of the same poem,
he begged for forgiveness for having supported the French
move, and then condemned France:
0 France, that mockest heaven, adulterous, blind
And patriot only in pernicious toils.l
(11.78—79)
Though there are differences between Coleridge's poem and
this by Lenrie Peters with respect to situation, there is

the same kind of spirit in both, for both poets show the same

kind of annoyance at the betrayal of freedom.

 

14The Poems of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, ed. Ernest

Hartley Coleridge (London, 1961), pp. 243-247.

 

 

 

 

 

255

Peters‘ poem is full of passion; it is highly rhetor-
ical, and the poetic qualities have obviously been subsumed
under the weight of its political tempo. It is an unusual
poem among the poems of our modern poets, but that is not to
say that it is not sincere. It is the only one among Peters'
poems so far studied in which African natives are attacked.
This simply means that the poet is able to carry out his
investigation into the social ills with candour. The rhetor—
ical tone which marks the poem is seen throughout the other
poems of Peters that have to do with the post-colonial period
in his country. These poems will be dealt with later in this
study. Now this author would like to turn to the poems deal-

ing with "death.“
Shuttered Ambulances

Men fall sicki'get injured, and are transported in
ambulances to the hosPital. If they die in the hospital,
they have, so to say, been brought to their death scene in
the ambulance. Much of Lenrie Peters' poetry is concerned
with such scenes. The struggles of life and the viruses with
which the air is infested, the social diseases that attack
people, all lead to the "dissolution of the flesh" and to the
"Gates of Hell." Peters deals with the theme of "death" from
many angles. Death can be horrifying, deluding, and yet one

is sometimes asked to seek the shortest cut to the grave.

 

. “thaw H
E

‘1‘

 

’«I-

 

256

It does not matter from what point of View one looks at
death, one thing is certain, its inevitability.

"Autumn Street" (p. 12) therefore stresses this
point. In the earlier part of this chapter it was noted
that "Autumn" is associated in Peters with sickness, desire,
and restlessness. In the present poem it is autumn again, '
and everything is dying. Trees are "Hair-cropped," "Drowsy,"

and "Drooping shouldered." The sun's "embrace" is even

 

"dislocated," and there are only a few "Golden tears" that
mourn the passing death of summer. The death of nature only
points to the death of human beings: "All are waiting."
The images of conquest, death, and burial follow from the
allusion to the "frenzy of death" of "Summer's canopy," and
"Napoleonic Legions/Destined for snow-burial." "Snow" falls
in winter; so winter, death and burial are brought together.
Coming after these are "old women" who are "stick probing
their coffins." They take the "final step”

In which they see

Their death fall

Certain as the leaves.
Since death is such a certainty, those who are spared this
year, which is only one of the "new and decaying years," will
"wait for another year."

Peters has packed the poem full with disease images.

In fact the reader gets two other dimensions to the images:

hospital and death. There are such words as drowsy, tears,

dislocated, death, burial, ambulances, coffins, and the

 

 

 

 

257

usual biological allusions, like "lungs." "Golden tears“ is
oxymorous. Death is so much a part and parcel of life that
every moment on earth is just a moment of.waiting for death.‘
In "Where the Great Tree" (p. 14), the images of

death continue to appear, and the reader hears the voice of
death calling the protagonist to the other world:

Over my ancestral dead,

I heard a voice call

Urging me on.
He thinks of the journey through life, which is mere "marshes"
and nothing but a "sanguine river/Turbulent with hate." This
journey is a long one, but it must be undertaken before meet-
ing the "weary dead,"

Who wait in ashes
Till we share their bed.

Maybe this is the call to which "I Shall Return"
(p. 15) gives an answer. Here the protagonist agrees to
”return," that is to die, but he seems to have found of late
more energy for living a little longer:
I shall return
With unslippered feet
When I have done with spear and shield
And lion's tongue
To show I have destroyed the beast.
He wishes to perform all heroic activities possible, to live
his life as a youth and get dissolved "into the wholesome/

15

Phantasmagoria of love," to enjoy all that life has to give

 

15Cf. Pound's "Mauberley (1920)," II: "He had moved
amid her phantasmaqoria/Amid her galaxies," in The Selected
Poems (New York, 1957)., p. 72.

 

 

:4

 

 

258

Before the retina perish
And the worms flourish.

Life has some ”noble greatness" now, and like a youth, he
would oppose "false barriers and strife" in life, and eXploit
his sexual "energies"

Before I knock on the locked
Gates of Hell.

This is a sardonic/ending. The protagonist has no
hope of knocking on the gates of heaven. This attitude of
forlornness marks these poems on death. The wish to die is
not a pleasant one; death is only accepted because it is
inevitable, and in the next poem, death is seen as the thief
that steals the joys of childhood.

"One Long Jump" (p. 23), therefore, deals with the
purity and joys of childhood which are lost in one long jump
through maturity to the grave. Childhood is a period of
wonders when the child's "face" is "Limitless" and complete
like a globe, and the language of the child is that of nature.
It is a period where the beauty of the flesh is genuine.
Intuition rather than reason directs the child, for there are
"no didactic analyses/To know that milk was sweet." But all
these things are lost in the grave:

Because things get mouldy
In the grave

And milk loses its taste
On the coated tongue.

With death one loses his "bartered birthrite"l6 forever, for

 

16This author thinks the word should be "birthright."

 

lfil I

 

259

there is no return to childhood again. This is the profit
and loss of growing up which we notice in Wordsworth's
"Immortality Ode."
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing boy.
(Section V, 11.66-68)

Man's early natural life is replaced by the "grind—
ing artificialities.” The jump does not mean "progression"
but the "dissolution of the flesh." The idea of motion with-
out progression has been noted in "Parachute Men." At death,
one should not look back, for he will be upset by the thought
of all he has lost. The only thing one should do is to wish
that death should come soon:

It is enough
To seek a short cut
To the grave.

But hope for rest in death will be disappointed in
"Does Death So Delude Us" (p. 34), which shows that one does
not even hope for quiet in the grave. Death may be a delu-
sion in two senses. It leads one into another life where he
cannot attain the peace hehas been expecting. Death may
also delude by foiling all the fond hopes one nourishes in
this life. Death puts an end to all the toils of man. The
poem opens with the image of a journey. Life is a journey to
death. The "absence of light" and the "disappearance of

facts" make one think he is out of existence. One who is

dead has refused "the sun's welcome hand" and has Opted for

 

 

 

 

 

260

“the refuse—littered shore/The lunatic abyss." Then there
is no "rose" to sweeten the "faecal air." He also has
yielded himself to the "imponderable negativeness" and on
his leaving this life, ”the secret trap door" is "slammed
and jammed," after him.

The face one wears in death is no longer shining
with warmth and life, for these have been sterilised, and
instead of the "warm embrace, one wears the Modigliani
face."17 This is the face without life and blood, the
unnatural face, a face made by the artifice of sculpture.

But to live is as bad as to die, and hence the "bitter alter—
natives." Man is not even allowed the time to continue liv-
ing in the "dream" of this world. The human heart is denied
the chance to "still swell the barren dream." It is "barren"
of course, but death promises no assurance of greater sub—
stance. The futility of earthly life and the delusiveness

of death are both summarised in the last two lines:

Machines and the machined
Become irrelevant.

There is separateness here on earth, but the ”common flow"

 

l7Amedeo Modigliani (1884—1920). He was an Italian
painter and sculptor. The characteristics of his sculptured
heads are long necks and noses, simplified features and long,
oval faces. The elongations and simplifications of the
heads shown at the Salon d'Automn in 1912, "reflect the
influence of African art." See Encyclopaedia Britannica,
Vol° 15, p. 646.

mr 1w—

 

 

261

of things will eventually obliterate the distinctions so
that the pursuer and the pursued will become one.

Peters is suggesting that life is like a hospital
where we are being dressed and prepared for the journey.
Nature helps to quicken the journey as well as sickness does.
What "fog" does is told in "Fog Strangles" (p. 37). It
strangles with "wet hands" and squeezes "through the skin—
pores.” The image of the "brains of drowning men/Oozing
down nostrils" is particularly eerie. In the third stanza
comes another picture no less terrible. This is the life of
crippled manhood, a life where almost everyone is an invalid
limping toward the grave. Here some cranky old women are
already shrouded for their final step:

Rancid old women

Cough their Haemorrhoids out

Leave it on the table

To show the doctor.
Images of disease, wound, injury, sickness, hospital, death,
and burial are rife in Peters' poetry. He is a surgeon by
profession, and there is no doubt he has seen enough of the
stinking scenes of sick humanity.

If one turns the pages of this book of poetry as he
turned the pages of his "diary slowly," one also finds "pages
clouded and wet with tears." "Turning the Pages of My
Diary" (p. 43) summarizes the final emotional situation of
one who has seen much of unhealthy mankind. Tomorrow holds

no better promises for him, for it only shows “the shimmering

 

 

 

262

wrinkles of age/And the trenched island of horror." The
protagonist has lost his rational powers; so the instinct
will take the place of reason. By resorting to biological
imagery once more, he ponders over the possibility of his
evolution from the "reptile":

What if I am a recessive mutation

To the surge of biological motion
Which raised the mammal from the reptile?

18
The protagonist is quite confused by the life he has

seen, and the thought of death has persisted to the end:

Then the candle grease and ink

Insomnia and drink

Would be just another link

When I have gone over the brink.
Here he suggests that after his death, this book of poems,
this diary of his, which has been written in ink, between

sleeping and waking, amid sleeplessness and drinking-—this

volume will be the link that unites him with living humanity.

A Ray of Hope

 

As has been pointed out before in this chapter,
Lenrie Peters is not very much involved in political matters
or in the conflict of the foreign and the indigenous cultures.
Where these two enter his scheme of things, he can be found

rather as a mediator than as a fighter. However, it seems

 

18For an illustration of how mammals descended from

reptiles, see Alfred Sherwood Romer, The Vertebrate Body
(Philadelphia, 1962): p0 35.

 

 

,. - it I...‘

 

263

that only in connexion with the post-colonial life in his
country does he find reason enough to see life as worth
living. Throughout the poems to be dealt with in this sec—
tion, it is all encouragement and no despondency. The cloud
of disillusionment that hangs over life in the other groups
has been pierced by a ray of hope generated by political
freedom. It is then that the gate should be thrown open to
welcome friends from all the corners of the globe. One
writer says:

Certainly the poetry of contemporary Africa

indicates its emotional climate. That climate

is of hope and of faith in a future that is

coming more and more into the control of the

peoples of Africa themselves.
Such hope is what Peters envisions in the poems that will be
dealt with now. other modern West African poets we have
studied so far are not as much concerned with the society of
the post-colonial era, as with the harm done by colonialism.
Thus they are not to be expected to express the same kind of
hope as Peters has expressed.

"Open the Gates" (p. 5) strikes this note of bright
expectation. It is a poem that appeals for generosity, for
joy, and for virtue. The gates should be thrown open for
all that is "good and best" to be brought in; the motherless
"child" should be cared for. Tears should be wiped off the

eyes, for there is the "new rain" which after a long period

 

19Hughes, ed. Poems From Black Africa, p. 11.

 

 

 

   

264

of drought should of course bring back life. The world of
the present is that of "harmony with nature/And strength in
goodwill."

To Peters, life is becoming happier, and peace has
supplanted war. The protagonist pleads that there should be
no more rage and grief at home. It may be recalled that in

a poem like "We Have Come Home,‘ there is no security at

home. But now in "How Do We Come With Rage" (p. 21), there

 

is already the ”altar of peace" to which peOple come with
rage. Everything in the poem is significant of the change
from the terrible period of colonialism to the calm of the
independence era, which follows after the storm. Very

deftly, the poem has been structured on a pattern of con-

trasts: "new dawn" survives a "bitter storm"; "healthy
plants replace/The burnt out embers of hate." The shed
"black cloak” is set against the "virgin rain"; and in the

sixth stanza, the reader comes to the climactic point of this
transformation:

. . . She offers herself

Her love for hate

Peace for war

Dignity for alien savagery.

All the past was a period of preparation for this

regeneration, this "feasting" in the "new world" that is "not

darkened" by the "fear of night." It is therefore necessary

that the ugly past should be forgotten, so that

 

51 It...

 

265

Elle peut dire

Comme les aveugles frappes

I never saw his face

The victim of my rape.
The use of "rape" for the "harm" done to Africa by colonial-
ism began among the poets of the colonial era, and continues
till now. However, it may be observed that Lenrie Peters is
the least belligerent in the treatment of this theme. Here
his duty is mediatory. The remembrance of "alien savagery"
is only incidental.

By the use of the conception and birth imagery,

Peters continues to make us visualise the unfolding of the
"golden age" of hope and happenings which is supplanting
colonialism. "The First Rose of the Season" (p. 22) shows
the petals of the rose curled like the "foetal head" inside
"an egg." The petals will unravel: the child is to be born.
Both of these are symptomatic of the "perfect balance,"

Of that which is to come

In the full power

Of subdued fragrance.
There should be nothing explosive or exuberant. Freedom
comes with "fragrance," but it is the subdued type, not
arrogant, but humble. Yet it is full of power.

Just as autumn has been used in some of Peters‘

poems to represent decay and death, so is the season of
spring used in "When Winter Is Over" (p. 33) to indicate the

moment of change for the better, the moment of rebirth after

the "death" of winter. It is now "goodbye to the dark

 

 

 

266

December." Contrasts are also rife here. Spring replaces
dark December, and when this happens, "trees burst into
laughter/To warm the frozen heart." The cry of the newly
born child echoes the "murmurs from beyond/The compost bar-
rier of change." The Wordsworthian tone is noticeable here,
as in "One Long Jump" (p. 258 above).

All the seasons are brought together in this poem.
As the poet rejoices in Spring which has supplanted winter,
and as he takes "a fruit" which is "dewy-pitched and young,"
the thought of another winter haunts him, for he knows
"there are two seasons/Before the end of a song." These two
seasons are of course summer and autumn. It should be noted
that this poem is not specifically alluding to the post-
colonial situation. But the general idea of the present joy
after the sorrow of the past is noticeable. ”The Seagulls
Return" (p. 35) deals with the same kind of change on the
generalised level. The past is associated with the storm
and flood which carried away the birds3 nests. Desolation
marks their return, but soon Nature--"the sun” and "The Lily"
——effects the renewal of life for the birds. While the sun
wraps "the leaves in gold," renewing life thereby, the

"lily" says "How good to be alive today.”

 

 

267

Conclusion

One may wonder that the poet, whose vision of life
has been as piteous and tragic as the previous sections of
this chapter indicate, can ever find some aspect of life to
make him laugh and hope. This shows that the poet has a
great power of vision. His perceptive ability opens diverse
avenues to his creative faculties, and thus the reader finds
various ingredients in the body of his work. Peters has
taken the world and life as a whole for his roaming field.
He is the least tied to the things "purely” African among
our modern poets. Thus, he is the most inclined to use such
words as “winter" "snow," "icicles,” etc. which have little
realistic meaning in the context of African life. David
Rubadiri once wrote:

Our literary young men can now begin to write
prose and verse that flows from the wells of the
creative spirit, untied by the desire to justify
African conflicts by mere surface solutions.20

Lenrie Peters seems to have imbibed Rubadiri’s in-
instruction. However, it cannot be implied that by virtue
of this he is a better or worse poet than other modern West
African poets. The charm of Peters' poetry consists in a
number of things: his power of vision, his choice of flowing

open-voweled words, his ability to combine lyricism with

 

20"Why African Literature?" Transition, IV, 15
(July—August 1964), 42.

 

 

 

 

Is.

268

heavily charged lines, and also his exquisite use of such

devices as paradox, oxymoron, and so on. Above all, one

can see behind the poetry of Peters' magnanimity, humanity,

and moderation.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER VIII

CONCLUSION

The subject-matter of modern West African poetry in l
English consists of themes drawn from life as a whole.

Christopher Okigbo deals with religious and aesthetic con-

 

flicts, cultural atavism and theomachy, while J. P. Clark is
concerned with a continuous tragic vision of life in general,
and frustrated love adventures. With George Awoonor—Williams
may be associated cultural, erotic and philosoPhical con—
flicts besides his obsession with the indigenous ways of
life. As for Lenrie Peters, his poetry is a pathological
study of the social, moral and intellectual aspects of life.
Sometimes the themes of the poets overlap, especially in
connexion with cultural conflicts, yet the points of emphasis
are different with each of them.

These poets seem to believe (and this author agrees)
that while making use of their indigenous poetry (vernacular
and colonial) and eXperiences for creating works of art, they
can still tap foreign sources of experiences, which are made
accessible to them by their acquisition of a second language.
In this way, both their themes and techniques have been very

much influenced by both local and foreign forces.

269

 

 

 

 

270

Indigenous activities, such as tribal wars, funeral
ceremonies, the worship of the ancestral spirits and the
communal gods, the initiation into the cults of the gods--
these are the debt of Awoonor-Williams to the vernacular
poetry. Okigbo's interest in the goddess "Idoto," the
sacrificial process whereby eggs and white hens are offered
to the gods and goddesses in the groves, and Clark's exploi-

tation of the myths of Obatala, Olokun, Olumo Rock and Abiku,

 

show the two poets as writers of and in their own culture.
These materials form the core of much of Yoruba, Ojebe, Akan
and Ewe poetry. The life of the local people is tied up with
religious activities, myths and the whole problem of human
existence. The stress betwen good and evil is fundamental to
a pe0ple who are conscious of their gods and their worship,
and who treasure their ancestral heritage for its precious-
ness. Such stress and consciousness are handled in different
ways by the modern poets also.

In matters of linguistic devices, the impact of the
vernacular poetry is no less glaring. Okigbo uses the goat,
ram, egg, spear-grass imagery. The images of gods and their
shrines are not unimportant in his poetry. The very title
of Clark's "Ivbie" is itself an image and a symbol, and it
derives from the traditional life. Such other poems of his
as "Night Rain" and the prologue-poem to Poems contain the

images whose texture reflects the nature of the native life.

 

 

 

 

 

271

Awoonor-Williams' images based.on dunghill, snake, mad dog,
rain and storm, weaver—bird, coloured.cowrie, shrine house,
and his frequent use of local proverbs are the significant
fingers of the past thrust importantly into the present.
Also the incantatory nature of some of his poems and some
of Okigbo's is another legacy from the ancestors' poetic '
method. Even Lenrie Peters, who is the least influenced by I
the vernacular style, has the occasion to depict the image

of a native woman sitting by the fire, distracted by the

 

death of her son, the image of fire-stones depicting some-
thing local and reminiscent of the past.

It is surprising, therefore, that Mr. Obumselu should
maintain that the "African poem in English is necessarily a
memorable ordering of English words," and give only casual
recognition to "the debt to indigenous practice found in the
works of African writers."1 The extent to which modern West
African poetry has been influenced by the indigenous life
and traditional poetry is quite considerable, and it will be
a link sadly lost if one should neglect it in his study of
our modern poetry. The vernacular poetry is not "modern"
poetry, but it has something exclusively its own, rich and

attractive, which makes it worth investigating, for sometimes

 

l"African Literature and Its Background" (Seminar
Paper, reported by Rev. Omigbodun, Department of Adult Educa-
tion and Extra-mural Studies, University of Ibadan, 1965),
p. l.

 

 

 

 

272

"the pleasure of surprise may . . . supplant the 'shock of
recognition.'"2
The poetry of the colonial period is of more histor-
ical than artistic importance, though some of it is good
poetry. But its influence on modern poetry is slight.
Sorrow for the indigenous culture that was being trampled

into oblivion, and the insolences and injuries from colonial-

ism, which were handled in a subdued mood by the colonial

 

poets, were given a more explosive and accentuated tone by
the modern poets, especially George Awoonor—Williams. The
older poets discovered the theme of culture-conflict, which
the younger ones have treated with greater poetic insight
and searching psychological analysis. The religious con—
flict which Abioseh Nicol portrayed in "African Easter," for
instance, is handled by Awoonor-Williams and Okigbo through-
out their poetry; and the quietude of freedom that Lenrie
Peters celebrates in his poems, was long before predicted by
the poets who were actually caught up in the storm of colo-
nialism.

It is precisely these themes and devices that reflect
the indigenous African life and cultures, which make this
modern West African poetry African, despite its being written

in English and influenced by foreign poetry. The modern West

 

2A. J. M. Smith, ed. Seven Centuries of Verse,
English and American (New York, 1957), p. xii.

 

 

 

 

 

273

African poets thus cherish the heritage from their past and
their traditional cultures. They have well demonstrated that
the past is indispensable to an accurate interpretation of
the present; and indeed that the present may be the past
reborn. This is a fact the student of modern West African
poetry in English cannot afford to ignore, no matter how
tenuous his ability to grasp this past and understand indig-
enous African cultures.

However, the modern West African poets writing in
English have not neglected the world outside their own
countries. They realise that the true workshop of a true
poet is life at large, and that life is not circumscribed
within any particular environment. The mental growth of
these poets has been effected in an intellectual milieu that
embraces experiences from various quarters of the human race.
Being brought up in the use of English from childhood, and
(at least some of them) vauiring other foreign langauges
later in their academic life, they are fully equipped for
breaking through the frontiers of their traditional culture
for the purpose of exploiting other cultures. It is thus no
wonder that a poet like Christopher Okigbo has much that
smacks of Ezra Pound, and that in Clark we hear the comming—
ling echoes of Shakespeare, Donne, Wordsworth, Matthew Arnold,
G. M. Hopkins, W. B. Yeats, T. S° Eliot and W. H. Auden; and

also that Lenrie Peters has some traces of Donne and the

 

 

 

 

274

metaphysical addiction to paradox, and the philosophical
tendencies of T. S. Eliot, and sees the Greek and Roman
mythology as another mine where poetic imagery and symbolism
could be tapped to effect.
One finds it hard to apply the words of Martin Banham

to the modern West African poets:

There seems to be a constant pattern in colo-

nial territories whereby the beginnings of a

literature, plagiarising the tastes, subjects,

style and ideas of the mother country . . .

are weak and unenterprising and then suddenly

they give way to a tidal wave of writing that

sweeps all the old imported standards away and

begin to create something individual and

nationalistic.3
The modern West African poets neither plagiarise nor disdain
foreign tastes. They do not assent to the creed which
endeavours to create poetics turned politics. Individual
they are, and do not sacrifice poetry on the altar of polit-
ical enthusiasm. They take whatever they think useful from
the foreign poets and make it their own by carefully working
it into their poetic system, and combining the foreign with
indigenous elements, create poetry which is of unique impor~
tance.

The value of this poetry consists mainly in the fact

that it can appeal to foreign readers, and much more to

African readers. The English and the Americans, for instance,

can enjoy this poetry for a number of reasons. In the first

 

3The Beginning of Nigerian Literature in English,"
Review of English Literature, III, 2 (April 1962), 88.

 

 

3y .

 

 

 

275

place, these readers speak the language in which it is
written, and therefore, can appreciate the poetry as work of
art, whose chief duty is to delight. Secondly, the poetry
echoes many English and American poets, who the readers have
been acquainted with.

Donald Davie recognises this value of modern West
African poetry. In discussing the outstanding place which
modern African poetry in general occupies in the whole body
of "Commonwealth poetry," Davie says that one of the merits
of African poetry is the fact that it appeals to people out—
side Africa: ". . . everybody must get excited at the mere
possibility that there is writing in Freetown which matters
outside Sierra Leone. . ."4

Another reason why modern West African poetry may be
enjoyed by non—Africans is that it deals with such universal
themes as human suffering, death, and love. Its chief con-
cern is with humanity. Furthermore, the foreign readers
get to know how the mind of the African works, and how the
African writer responds to life situations.

However, there are parts of modern West African
poetry which the foreign readers cannot readily understand
and enjoy, and these are the sections of the poets' works

that are based on indigenous material. It is with respect

 

4. . . .
'Enjoy the African Night," New Statesman, December 10,
1965, p. 934.

I

3-‘4

 

 

 

’1
I

276

to such parts that modern West African poetry has much
greater value to African readers than to foreign readers.
Besides enjoying the general literary merits of the
poetry, the Africans derive extra pleasure from it as a
result of their knowledge of the vernacular poetry, the
mythology, and the indigenous cultural life in general.
They have known, for example, Okigbo's "gods" of the "palm-

grove,’ and Awoonor-Williams' initiation ceremony in the
"fetish hut.“ They have also known that the "sanctuary of
things human," as Clark tells us, ”is swathed/In menstrual
rags, not in the market-place."

The West African poets themselves are aware of their
duty to the African readers, for they realise that to "write
always as part of one's people, to build the myth that is a
people's creative declaration, is to reveal the mind that is
more than politically liberated and to recover those root
images that foreign occupation has defaced and buried."5
Such "root images" found in modern West African poetry add

significantly to the value which this poetry has for its

African readers.

 

5Anon.,"English as Highway Or As Barrier," TLS,
September 16, 1965, p. 796.

 

 

 

 

 

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Primary Sources

Adali—Mortti, Geormbeeyi. "Ewe Poetry," Black Orpheus, No. 4
(October 1958), 36—45.

Awoonor-Williams, George. "I Heard A Bird Cry," Black
Orpheus, No. 15 (August 1964), 23—31.

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