One Ghana, One Voice

Interregnum - L.S. Mensah

roblucastaylor@gmail.com (Rob Taylor) — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 07:36:00 +0000

I knew exactly what you were going through. It's just that I didn't have the right to discuss your problems… hold on just a little bit longer now.
- Lucky Dube, Hold On

In the ruins of Great Zimbabwe [1], swallows
Return with mud. Mute – they make a million
Journeys to build their nests where mosses
Face true north. Brother Silence muzzled
Their tongues with mortis of rigor.

Between Zambezi and Limpopo, the past
And its appurtenances tattoo the plateau,
And Great Zimbabwe hugs her granites;
Each to the other, no need for mortar.
See, O see how she slopes to an almost cornice,
Apex of a gone civilization:

Belligerent – solemn – stoic –

Bivouacked against every minim
Of rain, every quaver of wind.
Some say her tonguelessness begun,
When strange footsteps strayed into her caves,
Forgetting to knock. Whatever the cause,

It unsettles. Who knows, who knows why the sun
Propagates the seer’s gaze with solar-pollen?
The palm wine tapper's calabash is not for the juice
Of coconuts, nor the divining bowl for hand dipping.

Even the River of Crocodiles limps with silt.
Tell me Limpopo, how did Brother Silence cast
His spell over your catchment? But the river elbows me:

I have work to do.
I'm only a middle-aged
River, shifting sandbanks
For my tenant sand martins.
Inquisitor, let me pass.

Who will bear the blame gourd when Great
Zimbabwe is jettisoned into history’s marginalia?

Perhaps a tour guide, a survivor, might
Bring his charges, point where the Great Enclosure once stood,
Where Mwari [2] once spoke, before the outbreak of non-sound.

Perhaps they’ll bask in the familiar comfort
Of old monuments; now and then catch a moment,
Now and then, with the contrails of their breath, cup the numb quiet.

Perhaps, they'll stare into its pools, as if the stare, when
Stretched to the thinness of sand strafing the gut
Of an hourglass, might unpick some mysterium, stitched
To the loin cloth of Great Zimbabwe's skeletons.

O, I wonder if they’ll wonder, whether old
Monuments, like words, possess their own
Etymologies, which untended, shed their clarities.

Let it not be said we hibernated in the bald
Shade of acacias, when our neighbours' fields
Caught fire, from renegade lightning storms.
May it not be mentioned we shared
Laughter-morsels with Brother Silence,
Even as he sharpened his sickle
Against his brother’s windpipe.

I am a stranger troubadour, from another
Corner of our savannah, who, having come
This far between rainbow and earth's paw,
Disembarked my tongue.

I must go now.
The peddler of parables should not
Hear the bearded owl’s ululation.

Let me go now.
This is a song with many voices.
Let someone hum the refrain.

[1] Great Zimbabwe is a complex of Iron Age ruins of a civilisation that flourished in modern day Zimbabwe, after which the country is named. The name Zimbabwe comes variously from the Shona words: dzimba woye (venerated houses) or dzimba dza mabwe (houses of stone).
[2] The Shona Creator God

"Zimbabwe" is part two of our six-part series of poems by Ghanaians on Zimbabwe. To read all contributions to the series so far, click here.

Author Profile - L.S. Mensah

roblucastaylor@gmail.com (Rob Taylor) — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 07:31:00 +0000

Biography:

L. S. Mensah was born and raised in Accra, and been living in the UK for the past four years or so. Recently her work has appeared in the annual Barnet Poetry Anthology.

Five Questions with L. S. Mensah:

1. What inspired you to write about Zimbabwe? Was the writing of your poem a response to our submission call, or was the poem already written?

I started this in response to the submission call, though it took me time to find the hook. Since Great Zimbabwe itself has always found expression in much Zimbabwean writing, I thought I'll explore it too.

2. Growing up, what was your image of Zimbabwe? Has that changed?

My image of Zimbabwe was tied to Bob Marley's "Survival," which had songs like 'So Much Trouble in the World' 'Africa Unite', and of course 'Zimbabwe.' Even if one did not understand the songs, that iconic cover, with the red, yellow, green and black of the flags of all these African countries, conveyed the idea of a people with a common destiny. Maybe that is still true.

In Zimbabwe, the change started almost immediately after Independence. It was barely noticed outside of the country itself when Mugabe turned his wrath on Joshua Nkomo's base in Matabeleland, thus effectively playing tribal politics. The Revolution is truly devouring its own.

3. How do you think we, as outsiders, can help with the current political struggles in Zimbabwe? Should we be involved?

I don't think one's origins matter when speaking out against oppressive regimes. Just keeping the plight of ordinary Zimbabweans in the public eye is a good place to start. Somehow African governments are more careful about their reputation abroad since that's where the Aid money comes from (though not in Mugabe's case). He is doing very well impoverishing his own people while setting himself up as a victim of the West.

4. What impact do you think our writing about Zimbabwe can have on the current's current political/economic state, if any?

Wilfred Owen had this to say: All a poet can do today is warn. That is why the true Poets must be truthful.

But even Owen's assertion is only the beginning, for what kind of truth do we even begin to tell? Who decides what is truth and what isn't? Our various subjectivities will find their way into whatever it is we have to say. Still, if that generates debate, then that's good.

At the very least our writing can help keep the issue alive in the public sphere.

5. What lessons can Zimbabwe learn from Ghana's history? What lessons can Ghana learn from Zimbabwe?

I prefer to take the long view: Africa has always had its tyrants - right from the Pharoahs. What that says about our prospects for getting rid of the modern ones, I can't say. However, it is also important to note that they are slowly, but very slowly, beginning to disappear.

Like Zimbabweans, Ghanaians have their monuments too. Still it is not enough just to mull over our sometimes rich black past. Look again at those monuments, and you begin to see the seeds of our difficult present. The reason our monuments have fallen silent is not because we fail to explore them in our writing, but that when we do, we often prefer to stick with the glory bit.

I think the problem all over Africa, we tend to see our leaders, not as people we put in power, and therefore accountable to us, but as fathers of the nation. This gets worse when those leaders have come through the Independence Movement. They start to believe that their sacrifices gives them the right to rule forever.

Mugabe is the classic post independence leader, and as things have become worse, he in turn, has become more brutal, just to stay in power. We know, at least in Ghana, that playing one group against another never helps anyone. There are real grievances but his scorched earth policy is not the way to go. Kristina Rungano, a Zimbabwean poet, offers these lines in her 'After the Rain':

Tomorrow the tree 'd looked a day more ancient
Yet it would still be
The same familiar beautiful Zimbabwe.

(The Heinemann Book of African Women's Poetry)

Contact L. S.:

nomadafricanus(at)yahoo.co.uk

Zimbabwe - Prince Mensah

roblucastaylor@gmail.com (Rob Taylor) — Sat, 31 Oct 2009 08:30:00 +0000

Zimba Remabwe [1]
Between the Zambezi and Limpopo,
Land of Shona legend and lore.
Our hearts yearn for more
Stories from Monomotapa
About greatness and gold.

Zimba Remabwe,
They named you Southern Rhodesia
As if the earth belonged
Not to the ones they wronged
But struggle begun to flow like lava
From volcanoes of dissent.

Zimba Remabwe,
The first born soil of the earth.
From Harare to Bulawayo
Every man is a hero
In battles of identity customized
By politics and economics.

The land did not belong to Rhodes,
It did not belong to hordes
Of stale imperialism.
The land Zimbabwe belongs to us,
The ones who bear her struggles,
Who kiss her lips when we fall.

[1] Big house of stone.

"Zimbabwe" is part one of our six-part series of poems by Ghanaians on Zimbabwe.

Author Profile - Prince Mensah

roblucastaylor@gmail.com (Rob Taylor) — Sat, 31 Oct 2009 08:23:00 +0000

Biography:

Born in Ghana, Prince Mensah has twenty-five stage plays to his credit. Some of them have been acted at the Accra Arts Center and at several locations in Accra. His articles and stories have been published in the STEP magazine, P & P, Ghanadot.com and The Free Press. His poetry has been published in the Munyori Journal, UNESCO's Other Voices International Project, The Muse Literary Magazine and the Dublin Writer's Workshop.

Prince Mensah has published seventeen books of poetry. They are Memoirs of A Native Son, I Shall, I Will, I Can (Poetry Inspired by Barack Obama), Afrocentric, ecclesiastes, State of An Abstract Mind, The Griot Metropolitan, The Land of Broken Mirrors, Coronation, Enough is Enough, World War-Free, in praise of the calabash, Prophylaxis, Via Dolorosa, Tabula Rasa, Eclectic, Situational Hazard and Chronology.

Prince is a Consultant in Workplace Mediation, an HIV/AID Treatment Advocate and an Eligible Translator/Interpreter in Twi & Fante for the Judicial Consortium of 40 American States. He lives in the United States with his wife, Charisse.

Prince is the head of North American promotions for One Ghana, One Voice.

Five questions with Prince Mensah:

1. What inspired you to write about Zimbabwe? Was the writing of your poem a response to our submission call, or was the poem already written?

It was OGOV’s call for submissions that prompted the creation of this poem. After doing some research on Zimbabwe’s glorious past and volatile present, I realized how important it was to stoke the greatness lying latent in this country.

2. How do you think we, as outsiders, can help with the current political struggles in Zimbabwe? Should we be involved?

I think, as outsiders, we can only hold the mirrors of opinion and reflect back to Zimbabwe what it represents to us. President Mugabe gives me great ambivalence. On one end, I am proud he is taking shots from nobody. On the other hand, I am disappointed that he is not employing all the brilliant Zimbabwean minds to build the country. I don’t think all the answers to Zimbabwe’s troubles are in his head. For the sake of the Zimbabwe that he risked his life for, he must give way to ideas that will move the country forward, not backward.

Ghana’s first president, Kwame Nkrumah was the biggest African bankroller for Zimbabwean independence. He believed in the Zimbabwean dream. Robert Mugabe’s first wife, Sally, (who is now deceased) was Ghanaian from Cape Coast. He was once a lecturer at University of Ghana. There is an endearing history between Ghana and Zimbabwe, which can be used in several ways to nudge the present government to do the right thing. An epic struggle continues between the old guards who shed their sweat and blood for independence and the modernists who want to open Zimbabwe to more western ideas. In the end, the struggle for power is a Shakespearean tragedy reenacted in varying forms in African countries.

3. What impact do you think our writing about Zimbabwe can have on the current's current political/economic state, if any?

Zimbabweans have the highest literacy rate in Africa so I know that our writings will find their way to discerning minds who can utilize the sentiments expressed in the poems. That being said, if there is a way to post photos from Zimbabwe to accompany the poems, it would be helpful.

4. What lessons can Zimbabwe learn from Ghana's history? What lessons can Ghana learn from Zimbabwe?

Zimbabweans can learn the power of tolerance from Ghana. Trust me; we have had volatile situations that could have ended up in chaos. Yet, there is a cultural underpinning that rejects bloodshed as a way of solving issues. The way of Gandhi is better than the way of guns. In the end, the best person to change Zimbabwe for the better is the Zimbabwean who is ready to make sacrifices and take risks, in order to move the dream forward.

Ghanaians can learn the value of higher education from Zimbabweans. Getting either a Masters Degree or Doctorate is a rite of passage for Zimbabweans. This enables them to excel in and out of their country, enabling them to garner the experience and expertise to contribute to nation building. I do not mean that holding a graduate degree is the panacea to our problems. However, it opens up possibilities for the individual in a country where opportunities are few.

5. Your poem focuses on the history of Zimbabwe. What lessons can we learn from that history to help effect the present?

As one of the earliest kingdoms in continental Africa, Zimbabwe stands for enduring cultural heritage and identity. With centuries of military, political and religious development, the psyche of pre-colonial Zimbabwe was a precursor to the anti-colonial sentiment that surged through Africa through 1960s – 1980s. The lessons that can be learned from the past involve the ability to avoid self-destructive traits and to use whatever helps the Zimbabwean dream to be realized. I trust that President Mugabe and Prime Minister Tsvangirai can work together as fellow Zimbabweans to attack the demons of conflict and power-grabs. In the end, Zimbabwe must not become a victim of vitriol, vanity and vendetta. It deserves better than that.

Contact Prince:

Email: pryncemensah(at)yahoo.com
Website: http://www.freewebs.com/pryncemensah/

The Path - Juanita Tsikata

roblucastaylor@gmail.com (Rob Taylor) — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 01:37:00 +0000

As they search, my future runs.
What they want, I do not have
but things they need, our own blood.
Why, why, why?!

Never again shall I see the plain,
the wives, the kids, the birds you name.
The land is gone, our doom reforms.
Colour doesn't matter; their shameful blunder.

Our stories so long ago told
by the aging fathers of old.
The sound of the whip,
we never forgive.
We lived righteously in our created glory.

The sins of the whitewashed men
became our paths to nature's pen.
But of the scars we bare,
I gladly lay them down.

The house on water calls for the Ghanaian drum beat.
The Zulus retreat so the battle is lost,
yet there's light for the lost souls,
the ones who made us known,
our paths and the search for hope.

Author Profile - Juanita Tsikata

roblucastaylor@gmail.com (Rob Taylor) — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 01:28:00 +0000

Biography:

Juanita Tsikata is a 16 year-old Ghanaian and an upcoming poet who prefers to write at night with a torch in hand. She attends St. Johns Catholic School, Year 12 and is pursuing three courses, Biology, History and English. At the moment, she's thinking of further studies in Creative Writing and writing for friends during their "I can't afford a gift" moments. She writes songs and stories as a hobby to pass time and to express herself. Currently she lives with her father in the UK.

Five Questions with Juanita:

1. How long have you been writing poetry?

I began writing about three years ago to convey my moods, opinions on life, and personal experiences.

2. Who are your favourite poets? Which poets have most informed and inspired your work?

I have no favourites but the majority of what I read is from Efua Sutherland, Kwesi Brew and Ama Ata Aidoo. I enjoy noting how the poets put their messages across in different voices and styles.

3. What do you hope to accomplish with your poetry?

I intend to entertain people with the poems as well as bring awareness to the fact that no matter your age or background whatever you put down can transform lives.

4. You are writing at such a young age. What produced in you this early interest in poetry?

My mother, all credit goes to her. Two lessons I've never forgotten from her are the inspiration to write selflessly and the ideology on how words influence people and places.

5. What does the average student in your school think of poetry, if they think of it at all?

Unfortunately, a greater number see poetry as a mess of pointless lines and have not a care in the world for it. There are a handful with the talent and passion, yet they're in hiding for fear of being branded "maximum brained students".

Contact Juanita:

j_tsikata(at)yahoo.com

Woman in a Taxi - Theresah Ennin

roblucastaylor@gmail.com (Rob Taylor) — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 08:02:00 +0000


Hair covered with an indigo scarf
Face turned out towards the window
Arms clasped around a slender frame
A veritable symbol of “don’t touch me”

Pushed onto the corner as if you’ve been
Flattened onto the door like a slice of tatale [1]
We are the only passengers in the back seat of this taxi cab
What calls your attention so intently, through the window?
                Is it the men                                       or women
Moving dexterously peddling their wares among these vehicles?
Or it is the array of flags lining the sidewalks like a mini United Nations?

Or is it me, your fellow passenger
Whose face you don’t want to see
Why don’t you lie back, relax and enjoy the ride
After all, you have paid for it, haven’t you?

[1] Ghanaian finger food shaped like a pancake but made of ripe plantain

Author Profile - Theresah Ennin

roblucastaylor@gmail.com (Rob Taylor) — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 08:01:00 +0000

Biography:

Theresah P. Ennin is a lecturer from the university of Cape Coast, Ghana, and a Fulbright scholar doing her PhD in African literature and Languages at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. She has been writing poetry for a while now and has been published in three anthologies by Woeli Publishing House.

Five Questions with Theresah Ennin:

1. How long have you been writing poetry?

I have been writing poetry since I was 12 years. Everything I see, hear or read is a source of inspiration to me. Most of my poems are personal reflections on issues, sometimes deep, sometimes light hearted.

2. Who are your favourite poets? Which poets have most informed and inspired your work?

I must say that I do not have any favorite poets, I enjoy different kinds of poetry and can enjoy one or two poems from a poet without them being necessarily my favorite. I enjoy Keats, Yeats, Aidoo, Awoonor, Brew among others.

3. What do you hope to accomplish with your poetry?

I intend to publish most of my poems especially, the current set I am working on for people to enjoy.

4. How has living away from Ghana effected how you write about your homeland?

This current set from which "Woman in a Taxi" comes from is a collection of poems written in exile. My being outside the homeland has added enchantment, quite a lot, to the view, and I find a lot of things to be grateful for back home as well as to be nostalgic about. Secondly, I like taking a step away from what is close up and evaluating what pertains at home to see how best we can make things right, but basically, I now write celebrating what I am because of where I come from.

5. Could you tell our readers a bit more about your PhD research?

My PhD research is in African Literature, basically women writers of African descent. I want to examine the portrayal of the female characters as well as issues that are common to all these writers.

Contact Theresah:

emotena(at)yahoo.com

Congratulations, Black Satellites!

roblucastaylor@gmail.com (Rob Taylor) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 21:50:00 +0000

What a triumph! A poem by Prince Mensah from a few months back, to celebrate: Euphoria!!!!

Apology to witches - Darko Antwi

roblucastaylor@gmail.com (Rob Taylor) — Sat, 10 Oct 2009 00:52:00 +0000

Nobody did us
We did ourselves

The hay of Ethiopia we didn’t make
And a spate of tribal wars we made

Nobody did us
We did ourselves

Our huge contribution to faint GDP
And low annual income per capita

Nobody did us
We did ourselves

The Fee-Market ideas we depose
And Communist theory we glorify

Nobody did us
We did ourselves

The Theobaldia anulata we breed
And the larvae of worms we drink

Nobody did us
We did ourselves

But in other earthly nightmares,
Some biophysical agents did us.

Author Profile - Darko Antwi

roblucastaylor@gmail.com (Rob Taylor) — Sat, 10 Oct 2009 00:51:00 +0000

Biography:

Darko Antwi was born in Kumasi in May 1976. After his secondary education at Bekwai SDA, and National Service at Adiembra Junior Secondary School, he embarked on a five-year teaching career in local kindergarten and primary schools.

Antwi is the brain behind the development of the concept of Miss Akoto Education, for Ahenkro Literature Foundation – an NGO in Ghana. As a co-founder and executive member of Ashanti Writers Association, he served as the Administrative Co-ordinator (2000-02) under the patronage of the elite literary veteran, E. K. Kwarteng and Akosua Gyamfua Fofie.

Two of his eventful titles: Cyberfutriphobia and Slogans of Hope have had successful broadcast at native Otec Radio, 1999 and Fox Radio, 2002 respectively. His We Blacks has also been drafted for an anthology to be published by the Ghana Poetry Project.

His epic, Nkrabea, was adapted in 2006 by the Pan African Festival, as part of performances for their annual Emancipation Day. The 137-line historical account is also having a regular reading feature at Britain’s Black History Month events.

His written tribute to the Pan-Africanist, Marcus Garvey, Ayekoo!, is assembled among an archive of memorabilia at the Marcus Garvey Memorial Library, London. In August 2007, during the 120th birthday of Garvey, Ayekoo! appeared in The Voice, Britain’s major black newspaper.

He is now working on District, an electronic magazine for children.

Five Questions with Darko Antwi:

1. How long have you been writing poetry?

I was 18 years when I wrote my first sonnet and a few wretched lines. But I started publication-bound manuscripts in 1998, at 22 years. Counting from the latter age - which I recognise - I have been writing for 11 years.

2. Who are your favourite poets? Which poets have most informed and inspired your work?

Many. So many of them: Donne, Marvell, E.E Cummings, G.K. Chesterton, etc. But Dennis Brutus stands-out as the most inspiring.

3. What do you hope to accomplish with your poetry?

I wish my poetry entertains. To make someone laugh or smile about something strictly silly/funny within a line. I may end-up educating or informing, but I prioritise light humour.

4. You've become a regular critic here at OGOV. What do you think is the role of the critic in the development of Ghanaian poetry?

Once we have come to understand the importance of literary criticism, it brings home how crucial the role of critics is to the development of Ghanaian poetry. In playing his part, the critic should be a laboratory of litmus tests. Theirs is to accomplish excellence by guarding the arts through sound and expert judgement. Analysing a creative work is something I'll feel so much honoured to do - just as much as I enjoy commenting here. Hoping I'll turn professional if I should have the chance to attend University to offer the right course.

5. How has working overseas affected your perspective on your homeland? How has it affected the way you write about it?

Working in practically democratic England has helped me to write a few courtesy poems for some leaders in Ghana who believe in rancour and hostility.

Contact Darko:

darko.antwi@yahoo.co.uk

From the Archives: "Mama" by Vida Ayitah

roblucastaylor@gmail.com (Rob Taylor) — Sat, 03 Oct 2009 06:02:00 +0000

My Mama said to me
Go out and find a man
And bring me grandkids

I went to the marketplace
They sell everything
But no man was for sale

I took the bus
To the next town; where I heard men were in abundance
But alas! Each one was already taken

So I came home to Mama
And said: I didn’t find any man
She said I didn’t look hard enough

So I went out one night
To the nightclub; where lights go amber and glitzy
My eyes danced and danced!

So many men!
I wonder why I never came here
Why nobody told me…

So I brought the gentleman home
And gave Mama two grandkids
Which indeed made her happy

Mama said to bring her grandkids
She didn’t ask that I find true love... a nice man
Who wouldn’t leave after a few years

So many cold nights I’ve known now
So many empty mornings... spent alone in gloom
Who wants to love a dry, withered old woman
Who has two ugly bastards?

Poor Mama, who needed grandkids
And thought
Thought I met the father in a church!

Old poems at OGOV don't die, but live on in our archives! Every once in a while we will dust one off for our newer readers to enjoy. "Mama" was the second poem ever published on OGOV, on March 31st, 2007.

Author Profile - Vida Ayitah

roblucastaylor@gmail.com (Rob Taylor) — Sat, 03 Oct 2009 06:01:00 +0000

Biography:

Vida was born on July 19th, 1978 in a small farming community in the Volta Region. She has three sisters and one brother. She is currently living and working in Accra. She enjoys music and dancing as much as she does writing.

Five Questions with Vida Ayitah:

1. Who are your favourite poets? Which poets have most inspired you and informed your work?

Mr. Kobena Eyi Acquah (Ghana), Ms. Erica Jong (USA).

2. What do you hope to accomplish with your poetry?

To inspire people to get in touch with their inner beings. Poetry is such a sensual and emotional thing. We live each day on emotions and senses and it’s my hope that my work can make people identify something within themselves.

3. What is your opinion on the state of African poetry today?

Well, I think more markets should be created for African poetry. There are so many unknown poets in Ghana today, for instance, young people with great talents who have no avenues to showcase their work. The beauty of African poetry is that it tells a great deal about the African culture, our hopes and dreams. Reading just one poem is like reading a bit of history. The African mind is rich with the voices of the past.

4. What do you think needs to be done to promote and strengthen poetry in Africa?

The following steps can be taken to promote and strengthen poetry in Africa: organize workshops for writers, starting from the local scene, create a platform where writers meet and discuss their work, establish poetry magazines to feature new poets (like One Ghana, One Voice) and perhaps a market should me made available to sell and promote our work, thus encouraging us to be more passionate and dedicated to our work.

5. "Mama" can be read as being very critical of the perceived role of women in Ghanaian society. In this sense, do you consider it to be a political poem?

I never thought that ‘Mama’ could be seen as being political in regards to women in our society. The whole idea of the poem was to put across the fact that maybe our mothers should focus on the happiness and welfare of their children rather than on expanding the family tree.

Contact Vida:

akusefako(at)yahoo.com

A cigarette with Sonia as the fan went round and round - Martin Egblewogbe

roblucastaylor@gmail.com (Rob Taylor) — Sat, 26 Sep 2009 08:06:00 +0000

And so it was.
And it came to pass.
And it was peaceful, being with her.

And the smoke of our burning went up and up
caught up in whorls and spun around
by the blades of the fan turning lazily
in an endless circle.

Long legged cross legged
reclining in the sofa: Sonia;
Across the table with the gleaming top
leaning forward in the armchair: I.

We might have been –
but we were
smoking
and she told me about her son
looking into the future with great faith.

And the smoke of our burning went up and up
caught up in whorls and spun around.

We might have been –
but we were
drinking
and then we discussed
The Church The Law and Finances.

And it came to pass, that
we talked about Impotence
because
a flaccid penis at the very entrance
was a disturbing matter indeed
The powers of Viagra notwithstanding.

And the smoke of our burning went up and up
caught up in whorls and spun around.

We discussed the tyranny
of Pain and Death;
The one opportunity for Power
and Myth, and Society, and Misery.
Then we said, Let’s lighten up!
So bottoms went up and ends brightened,
and the smoke of our burning went up and up
caught up in whorls and spun around.

And so it was.

We might have been friends
bringing the weekend to an end,
But we were
fellow travellers caught in a time warp
and the smoke of our burning went up and up.

In a moment of kindness she offered me her ass;
In a moment of silence I raised my glass
and the smoke of our burning went up and up
caught up in whorls and spun around.

Fellow travellers in this space ship
sharing the loneliness of our private gehenna.
Sonia and I, turning words into thoughts
And thoughts into words:

And the words were caught up
by the blades of the fan
turning lazily in an
endless circle.

Author Profile - Martin Egblewogbe

roblucastaylor@gmail.com (Rob Taylor) — Sat, 26 Sep 2009 08:05:00 +0000

Biography:

Martin Egblewogbe currently lives in Accra, Ghana. He holds an MPhil in Physics and is starting a PhD while teaching at the University of Ghana.

For several years he hosted/produced the literary programme "Open Air Theatre" on Radio Univers in Accra, and organised "Just Imagine", a series of poetry recitals from 2003 - 2006. He has also participated in several public book readings in Accra. He currently helps run both The Ghanaian Book Review (Kpoklomaja) and the Ghana Poetry Project.

Martin's writing has been featured in The Weekly Spectator and The Mirror, and his works can be found in a number of collections, including An Anthology of Contemporary Ghanaian Poems. He has won prizes for a number of short stories and spoken word performances.

Apart from Physics and writing, Martin is interested in Philosophy, Still Photography, and Computers (software, hardware).

Five Questions with Martin Egblewogbe:

1. This poem features a refrain. What effect were you hoping for this device to have on your reader?

Well, in this instance, the refrain was to keep reminding the reader of the scene in which the piece is set, both literally and as a metaphor.

2. You sometimes use ellipses (...) and other devices to inform your reader of pauses or hesitations in your poems. You also use line breaks and first-letter capitalization to great effect. How much do you think a reader needs to be informed about when to pause while reading, and how much should they be left to determine when to pause on their own?

I like for my poems to read smoothly, and this is why these devices are included -- to slow the pace of the poem or to speed it up. The breaks are as much for me the writer, as for me the reader. I just hope, after completing a piece, that a reader is not hindered by the arrangement of the lines. But then again, as I mentioned before, my poems are written with a rather selfish intent -- of sounding good to me.

3. Some of your lines have a great sonic effect, such as "Friends clinking glasses before the bombs came down". Do you read your poems aloud to yourself as you write them? For you, how important is the sound of a poem?

Yes, reading the poems aloud is very important to me -- I do not consider a poem complete until it sounds OK and can be read with a minimum of awkward pauses and "hanging" lines -- however, I think that this is difficult to achieve and I am unsure about my success in this particular poem.

4. Give us an update on kpokplomaja. How are things going there and how can our readers contribute?

The Ghanaian Book Review is growing rather slowly, but it is running and still features a good number of Ghanaian poets and book reviews. The site receives about 400 hits a day, and this is trending upwards. However, the content is not growing as quickly as one would like.

5. Through your work promoting Ghanaian writing you must have come across a number of new writers that our readers aren't familiar with (or should become more familiar with!). Can you suggest a few people we should look out for?

There are a good number of poets who are operating outside our current sphere of friends, too many to list here.

Contact Martin:

m.egblewogbe(at)gmail.com

100th Anniversary Poem: Child of Saturday - Rob Taylor

roblucastaylor@gmail.com (Rob Taylor) — Tue, 22 Sep 2009 00:18:00 +0000

Kwame

Son of Nkroful,
son of the slave forts
and football in the fields before them.
Son of the schoolhouse,
of dusty Axim streets,
of cannons pointing all directions,
towards the sea
towards the village.

Kwame
the things that are done

A native son crosses the Atlantic
to a land deemed more palatable
for conquest, for the knowledge
you pull from University stacks
and place aside the histories of a people
whose land has already vanished,
who whisper from beneath the pavement
to go.

Kwame
the things that are done
in your name –

Slathered across the newspaper headlines,
this child of Saturday, son of Nkroful
a criminal, captive -
the walls of Ussher fort
a slave galley, a smallpox blanket
wrapped around your throat.
You wait, as you have been taught,
as you have practiced,
while children play in Axim’s fields
and cannons rust slowly on their mounts.

Kwame
the things that are done
in your name –
I mean, the things that are undone

Your people lift you up, out,
proclaim the land theirs,
its direction yours –
this child of Saturday,
this son of the schoolhouse,
you do not turn to address your people
but instead instruct the iron men on
how to bend without bursting.
You teach them how to walk again, to run –
you show them where to go.

Kwame
the things that are done
in your name –
I mean, the things that are undone
behind the flimsy façade of your name

You tore into the earth, it’s true,
and it trembled, betrayed,
yet understanding ‘what must be done.’
Helicopters chattered, gunships
patrolled the shores.
Child of Saturday, when you left
that last time, did you know?

Kwame
the things that are done
in your name –

They buried your body in Guinea,
the son of the slave forts.

I mean, the things that are undone

They returned your body to Nkroful,
the son of the schoolhouse.

behind the flimsy façade of your name

They trucked your body to the Capital
and placed it beneath a monument of stone.

Son of the slave forts,
son of the schoolhouse,
child of Saturday,
they’ve buried your body in a fortress
and stand behind its minarets,
cannons pointing all directions –
children below, bouncing victory and defeat
in black and white off their feet and foreheads
back and forth across the sprawling pitch.

Italicized lines are modified from the poem "Borrowed Airs" by Kobena Eyi Acquah. Read more poems on Nkrumah, from our "Nkrumah Series" of July 2008, here.

Author Profile - Rob Taylor

roblucastaylor@gmail.com (Rob Taylor) — Tue, 22 Sep 2009 00:02:00 +0000

Biography:

Rob Taylor lives in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. He lived in Accra in 2006-07 with his wife, Marta. His poetry has appeared in over thirty print and online magazines, and he has published two chapbooks, entitled splattered earth and Child of Saturday. He is the poetry editor at Red Fez.

Rob is a co-founder and editor of One Ghana, One Voice.

Contact Rob:

Email: roblucastaylor(at)gmail.com
Websites: RobLucasTaylor.com, spread it like a roll of nickels

Why Birds Sing - L. S. Mensah

roblucastaylor@gmail.com (Rob Taylor) — Sat, 12 Sep 2009 18:56:00 +0000

I

 

The corncrake handed

Me this proverb:

       

                                          A bird

                                          Is not a pillow.

     

 

She’d married another crake

Who built her a fine nest,

Then was thrown

Out at the break up

 

                                           Crek

                                           Crek 

She croaked

In the coarse grass:

      

                                          Pluck your own feathers

                                          To make your own eider.

 

 

II

 

The grass finch whispered 

In the quiet breeze:

  

                                          No one bargains

                                          For unripe yams

   

She’d betrothed her daughter

To an elderly goldfinch, but

Was forced to unswallow

The dowry, when her young

Died young.

 

 

                                          Oh Dependable

                                          God of Finches

She dirged in

The shrapnel rain                                       

                                          Let all songbirds

                                          Know, not to tell 

                                          The root crop

                                          By its climbers.

 

III

 

Tramping the shallows

In her pylon heels

Mrs Flamingo sieved

Lobster and krill

With the aside:

 

                                          Everyday dem mek yeye

                                          Mek laughter, sey flamingo

                                          Na stupid bird,

                                          Na bird idiotic

                                          Becos im waka waka

                                          Like telegraph pole

                                          Wey breeze shake.

                                          Only flamingo sabe dis:

                                          Everyday for bird beautifuls

                                          One day for we flamingoes.
 

I thought to query 

The Mistress Flamingo,

But arrested thought

With counter-thought: 

Even flamingos need

Their soliloquies.

 

 

IV

 

The weaverbird intoned,

When he broke a beak,

Cracking the coconut's

Décolletage:

 

                                          It is the bird

                                          Of the savannah,

                                          Not the forest,

                                          Who knows millet

                                          Is edible.

 

V 

 

The falcon buttoned

His middle talon

Into the heron’s neck

Hurtled down the sky's

Spine like tracer

Lightning, and murmured: 

                                          

                                          A confounding shame

                                          When no one notices

                                          The colour of shadows.

 

He would not elucidate

I did not expostulate.

Author Profile - L. S. Mensah

roblucastaylor@gmail.com (Rob Taylor) — Sat, 12 Sep 2009 18:45:00 +0000

Biography:

L. S. Mensah was born and raised in Accra, and been living in the UK for the past four years or so. Recently her work has appeared in the annual Barnet Poetry Anthology.

Five Questions with L. S. Mensah:

1. The physical arrangement of this poem on the page is quite striking. What inspired you to arrange it in such a way?

I think of this poem as performative, and the arrangement a device to separate the birds' dialogue (or call them actors) from the narrator’s observations.

2. What is your intended audience for this poem, if you have one? (African, non-African, Ghanaian, those well versed in poetry, those new to poetry, etc.)

Though this poem is rooted in an African landscape, it is a comment on the human condition. All one needs to decode this, is (to be a child again), to summon that cultural memory of proverbs, riddles, songs and folktales. That animist world where nature is alive, is familiar to all, whether we’re talking about Kweku Ananse, Brer Rabbit, or Cinderella.

3. This poem both has interesting aural effects (bird calls, multiple voices) and visual effects (the layout mentioned above). Do you intend primarily for this poem to be read on the page or aloud?

One could read this either way. As an aural experience, one would need to rely on say alliteration, assonance etc.

As for the visual effects, they have only become possible as a result of technology. Literacy and printing enables one to shift the text around, to break the old rule on keeping to one side of the A4.

Atukwei Okai comes to mind in the way he sprinkles his words on the page. I’ve always thought his poems remind me of the Wulomo (the head priest of the clans in Accra). As if he’s pouring libation, allowing the words to cascade. They don’t necessarily land in the same place - a feature in any performance of the verbal arts. Here’s what he does in this excerpt from 999 Smiles:
Shake 
Till it breaks, the decayed drooping 
Branch 
upon which 
                of all 
                       people 
you today 
              have gone 
                            to sit 
hurling … 
              stones … 
                          at us … 
Here he stretches out one line, as if onto a ledge, then of course he breaks and stacks them up like a step pyramid. It's wonderful.

4. In a discussion back in January, you challenged us to expand our literary horizons from a "regional" perspective (West Africans readings West Africans, South Africans reading South Africas, etc.). Can you suggest a few "outsiders" for our West African readers to take up that will provide them with a different perspective on things?

This is rather difficult, since my choices may have to do with my concerns and prejudices. One could start with anthologies such as The Penguin Book of Modern African Poetry (eds. Moore & Beier) or Poems of Black Africa (ed. Soyinka) There is also Griots and Town Criers (ed. by Chinweizu), though this last collection includes excerpts of plays and novels as well. Anthologies are great because they introduce one to writers you probably never knew (existed).

For a more contemporary take, the site www.wordswithoutborders.orgis excellent, and has a link to African writing. It’s marvelous (when it works). The site is updated monthly.

The Open University also has a free learning resource site, and any one can log on to www.open.ac.ukand search for ‘Start Writing Fiction’ and ‘Start Writing Poetry.’

The Website www.wfiu.org/poetsweave also posts a weekly edition of (American) poets reading their work, . These are also available for downloading either as a podcast, or burn to CD (I think).

5. How has your push to get your work published more widely been going for you? Have you learned any tips for new writers hoping to follow in your footsteps?

I’m only an unpublished poet, and judging from the way things are going, maybe no one should follow my footsteps.

Still, I encourage new writers to read. First read like a reader. Then read like a writer, to figure out why and how a line or phrase works, and then adapt it into your own work, without being derivative. But also read like a critic. I also encourage them to spend some more time on editing and rewriting.

Contact L. S.:

nomadafricanus(at)yahoo.co.uk

After the Storm - Mariska Taylor-Darko

roblucastaylor@gmail.com (Rob Taylor) — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 06:48:00 +0000

It is dawn and all is still,
The smell of settled dust and washed leaves fills the air.
The sky, once dark and threatening, turns blue.
The birds sing and chickens cluck over upturned food.
When the storm came, all was lost,
Nothing seemed right,
No movement was heard in the night except the beating of rain on every
surface, like drums beating the war cry.
All night long the rain came down, the once welcomed trickle turned into a nasty storm.
What was once beautiful turned into a nightmare
It was a great storm, a turbulent time that one thought would never end
Everything changed the day my heart died
Eyes lost their sparkle,
Smiles disappeared,
Laughter stopped,
Happiness faded into a distance.
The dull ache stayed permanently just below the womb
Now the storm was over,
The calm that followed was a shock.
The effects of the storm showed in various ways:
Things that were up-rooted were things that were washed away.
Others were destroyed
Some so far gone that there was no repair.
Others like the seeds just floated along, settled and started to flourish.
The strong became stronger.
The rays of light touched the heart, melting away all fear,
The terror that once held one captive disappeared
What was the purpose of the storm? We will never know,
But out of it all came a certain understanding,
A certain peace, a certain calm, a certain strength
And determination to go on and on and on.

Author Profile - Mariska Taylor-Darko

roblucastaylor@gmail.com (Rob Taylor) — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 06:11:00 +0000

Biography:

Born in Manchester, England in 1956, Mariska attended Holy Child Secondary School in Cape Coast and St. Mary's Secondary School, Mamprobi, Accra. She then returned to the UK and attended Beresford College of English and Commerce, Margate, Kent and later Harrow College of Further Education, Harrow, Middlesex. She has a PhD in Life.

She has two sons, Niinoi and Kwame. She is a motivational speaker, poet, writer, beautician, fire walker and lover of jazz, blues, reggae and old time highlife.

Five Questions with Mariska Taylor-Darko:

1. Did this poem come to you immediately during or after a storm, or were the images pulled from memory?

The poem actually came after the storm "the loss of my husband". I think it was about two months after the event and these words just came to me.

2. A major theme of this poem is dealing with living in a state of uncertainty and unknowing: "What was the purpose of the storm? We will never know". For you, how much of the process of writing a poem is about becoming comfortable with a state of unknown - being comfortable with not knowing where the poem comes from or where it is going?

The poem is a catharsis - a cleansing process. I am sure most will agree that healing comes through different mediums.

3. You participated in Laban Hill's video archive project, reading your poem "I Love Ghana". How did you find that experience, and how do you believe we can best use such an archive to promote Ghanaian poetry?

First of all I must say Laban Hill is a very approachable person and I am sure he made many nervous poets relax. The experience was a learning one - How to read in public in all situations - my chair kept swinging the wrong way and we just continued filming. If it is publicised more, and promoted more, other poets around the world will come to appreciate what Ghana has to offer which is a lot. If possible there should be a follow up. The film should not be "archived"!

4. In a recent Roundtable Discussion on how poets can contribute to peaceful election, you noted: "Poets in Ghana do not have a strong voice yet but what we can do is talk about peace and corruption during recitals." "After the Storm" seems to me to comment on a number of elements of life, including politics, in an allegorical way. This is a strong contrast to last week's poem by Julian Adomako-Gyimah, which deals with its issues very directly. When it comes to Ghanaian poets spreading a messsage about "peace and corruption", which strategy - the more direct or the more metaphorical - do you think is more productive?

Both ways are productive. You can touch different people in different ways. Some may find the more direct approach a bit threatening - like disturbing their comfort zone while others who are more militant may love it. Likewise the more sensative ones would like a more subtle indirect approach while hitting the nail on the head.

5. In your last profile, you noted that you were working on "a series of poems on certain negative aspects of tradition". Have you been making progress on this? Have you been finding any resistance from people who don't want you discussing difficult or taboo subjects?

I have written a couple more but I must say getting some people to talk about certain experiences was hard, more so with the elderly women, and I had to keep reassuring them that i would not mention their names. It is not going to be an easy task. It seems like it is a taboo to talk about about taboos.

Contact Mariska:

Email: mariska.taylor(at)gmail.com
Alternate Email: arabataylord(at)yahoo.co.uk
Websites: African Woman's Poetry, Mariska's MySpace Page

Snaps of Ghana Project

roblucastaylor@gmail.com (Rob Taylor) — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 00:20:00 +0000

Welcome to Snaps of Ghana, American poet Van G. Garrett's photographic and poetic tribute to Ghana. The photos used in the show were taken by Van during his travels in Ghana in 2008.

Snaps of Ghana was originally published on OGOV serially throughout August 2009. After it's full publication, Van sent us the following note:

September 8, 2009

Dear One Ghana, One Voice and its Supporters:

Thank you for supporting my month-long literary and visual arts exhibit. Snaps of Ghana: Poetry and Photography is my way of highlighting a fraction of the beauty found in Ghana. I read every post and comment that readers submitted, and I appreciate those who took the time out to comment about my work. Additionally, I appreciate those that took a more reflective/reflexive approach.

It is heart-touching to know that my art has inspired others to look at the Continent and the world anew.

Again, I want to thank OGOV and its readers for making my first international show a successful exhibit. I look forward to creating more sincere art that challenges and educates audiences worldwide.

All the very best,

Van G. Garrett / Fui Koshi
vanggarrett(at)gmail.com

We hope you enjoy Snaps of Ghana.

Snaps of Ghana by Van G. Garrett - pantoum #4

roblucastaylor@gmail.com (Rob Taylor) — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 07:08:00 +0000

in a sun-lit spot
children recline
during a midday festival
exuberance has its place

children recline
tired and optimistic
exuberance has its place
young bones also grow weary

tired and optimistic
and all is well
young bones also grow weary
outstretched on the peaceful shore

and all is well
as music swells on the water-filled scape
outstretched on the peaceful shore
that sings with sounds unheard

as music swells on the water-filled scape
during a midday festival
that sings with sounds unheard
in a sun-lit spot

Snaps of Ghana by Van G. Garrett - durbar kwansaba

roblucastaylor@gmail.com (Rob Taylor) — Sat, 29 Aug 2009 07:03:00 +0000

lively skins stretch across the rim of
a beach rippled with summer drum beats
air-lifted sounds chimed in swift unison
as toes upkick sand and dig grooves
where hips pivot and sway with colors
alive like royal pink and green flowers
planted by the not so still waters

Snaps of Ghana by Van G. Garrett - wisdom

roblucastaylor@gmail.com (Rob Taylor) — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 07:06:00 +0000

we listen intently to spinning stories
at the base of a tree
where spools of the past
create modern-day tapestries