embokeh: The Twilight Trek by Sefi Atta (Nigeria)

embokeh: The Twilight Trek by Sefi Atta (Nigeria):     The short story highlights the horrors that illegal immigrants from Africa go through as they escape from their home countries in...

embokeh: The Twilight Trek by Sefi Atta (Nigeria)

embokeh: The Twilight Trek by Sefi Atta (Nigeria):     The short story highlights the horrors that illegal immigrants from Africa go through as they escape from their home countries in...

The Twilight Trek by Sefi Atta (Nigeria)

 

 

The short story highlights the horrors that illegal immigrants from Africa go through as they escape from their home countries in search of green pastures in Europe. Jean Luc, the main character who confesses this isn't his real name is born poor to a prostitute mother who at a very young age tries to lure him off to a rich Lebanese a pedophile homosexual. he runs away from home and tries to live off the streets but after being beaten and raped he makes a decision to run away from home to Europe and Spain in particular, for he believes this is where he can make his dreams come true playing professional football. The difficult  journey through the Sahara together with other immigrants reveals the horrible experiences and difficulties that his people have to go through to get across to Europe with no guarantee of reaching their destination.

White Hands by Jane Katjavivi (Namibia)

The short story written by a former bookseller and publisher Jane Katjavivi reveals some of the evils perpetrated by the white regime in Namibia in the colonial era. The story revolves around Angelika the main character a grown woman studying in England ( Birmingham) on a scholarship offered by her church back home. Having led a childless marriage, she decides to visit a hospital in Birmingham and find out the reason for her barrenness. The results of her medical checkup reveals a shocking revelation of what she went through in the hands of white colonial soldiers decades back when she was taken ill and had an operation to remove her appendix. It is revealed that the white government conspired to have black Namibian women sterilized for reasons known to themselves. Although Angelika is happy that her situation is changed and through an operation her problem is rectified and she's able to have a baby, she feels very sad for the other countless women who went through the same ordeal and are now living childless lives without the knowledge of what was done to them. The story gives us an insight of how a system can be so evil as to conspire to maim the lives of innocent people.

Letter From A Contract Worker by Jacinto Antonio

I wanted to write you a letter
my love,
a letter that would tell
of this desire
to see you
of this fear
of losing you
of this more than benevolence that i feel
of this indefiable ill that pursues me
of this yearning to which i live in total surrender

I wanted to write you a letter
my love,
a letter of intimate secrets
a letter of memories of you
of you
of your lips as red as henna
of your hair as black as mud
of your eyes as sweet as honey
of your breasts as hard as wild orange
of your lynx* gait
and of your caresses
such that i can find no better here
I wanted to write you a letter
my love,
that would recall the days in our haunts
our nights lost in the long grass
that would recall the shade falling on us from the plum
trees
the moon filtering the endless palm trees
that would recall the madness
of our passion
and the bitterness
of our separation...

I wanted to write you a letter
my love,
that you would read without sighing
that you would hide from papa Bombo
that you would withhold from mama Kieza
that you would reread without the coldness
of forgetting
a letter which in all Kilombo
no other would stand comparison...

I wanted to write you a letter
my love,
a letter that would be brought to you by the passing wind
a letter that the cashews and coffee trees
the hyenas and buffaloes
the alligators and grayling*
could understand
so that if the wind should lose it on the way
the beasts and plants
with pity of our sharp suffering
from song to song
lament to lament
gabble to gabble
would bring you pure and hot
the burning words
the sorrowful words of the letter i wanted to write you my love...

I wanted to write you a letter...

but oh my love, I cannot understand
why it is, why it is, why it is, my dear
that you cannot read
and I - oh the hopeleness! -cannot write!

Letter From A Contract Worker By Jacinto Antonio

I wanted to write you a letter
my love,
a letter that would tell
of this desire
to see you
of this fear
of losing you
of this more than benevolence that i feel
of this indefiable ill that pursues me
of this yearning to which i live in total surrender

I wanted to write you a letter
my love,
a letter of intimate secrets
a letter of memories of you
of you
of your lips as red as henna
of your hair as black as mud
of your eyes as sweet as honey
of your breasts as hard as wild orange
of your lynx* gait
and of your caresses
such that i can find no better here
I wanted to write you a letter
my love,
that would recall the days in our haunts
our nights lost in the long grass
that would recall the shade falling on us from the plum
trees
the moon filtering the endless palm trees
that would recall the madness
of our passion
and the bitterness
of our separation...

I wanted to write you a letter
my love,
that you would read without sighing
that you would hide from papa Bombo
that you would withhold from mama Kieza
that you would reread without the coldness
of forgetting
a letter which in all Kilombo
no other would stand comparison...

I wanted to write you a letter
my love,
a letter that would be brought to you by the passing wind
a letter that the cashews and coffee trees
the hyenas and buffaloes
the alligators and grayling*
could understand
so that if the wind should lose it on the way
the beasts and plants
with pity of our sharp suffering
from song to song
lament to lament
gabble to gabble
would bring you pure and hot
the burning words
the sorrowful words of the letter i wanted to write you my love...

I wanted to write you a letter...

but oh my love, I cannot understand
why it is, why it is, why it is, my dear
that you cannot read
and I - oh the hopeleness! -cannot write!

The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes : The Poetry Foundation

The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes : The Poetry Foundation

Hola Town

A  recent visit to this small town in Tana River County of Coast region gave me an unforgettable  experience of what is it like to live in a marginalized area. The harsh terrain was characterized by very poor roads, scorching heat and clouds of dust. It was hard to imagine anyone can survive in a place like this. I got to feel what it is like to survive in a harsh environment. Scores of women could be seen drawing dirty water from dried  swamps, water you can never imagine putting on your lips. There were small shanty towns spread all over the way showing just how poor and difficult life is here. However, upon reaching the town I was impressed with how modern it is. The modern buildings, piped water, both Safaricom and Airtel networks makes the town modern and accessible. I was also able to access a clean guest house with taped water and showers and though the heat was unbearable, I was able to feel comfortable. The next time you get an opportunity to visit the town, remember to carry a good shawl and a good scarf to cover your nose and eyes from the dust and to wear dark cotton clothing to feel comfortable in the heat.

Africa Arise - Nyaboke Chweya

 

 

Gunshots rip the air,

Houses are torched with fire,

Heavy footsteps shake the ground,

While screams of agony tear across the valley.

Women are raped and lain bare,

Men maimed and slaughtered to death,

As their children watch in horror.

 

People scatter in all directions,

Children clinging tightly on their mothers

As they grope blindly in the dark.

 Choking in the heavy smoke.

The blood of the innocent souls flow like a river ‘

To appease the spirits of greedy men.

 

How long shall they kill our people?

How long shall innocent blood pour

To enrich these greedy mongrels?

How long shall our people suffer?

With empty skeletal bodies and hollow eyes?

How long will our children starve?

With empty plates and protruding stomachs?

 

 

Arise! Africa - arise!

Enough! Is enough!

It is time to take up arms,

And fight for our liberation

For the future of our generations

Arise! Africa- arise!

Stand united against the enemy

Who gains from our division

Arise and unite.

Embrace each other with a brotherly huge.

 

Africa shall rise!

Africa shall prosper!

Africa shall tower!

When all unite as one.

embokeh: Service

embokeh: Service: You may grow to great riches and glory   You may toil for yourself through the day   You may write in your record and story     ...

embokeh: Service

embokeh: Service: You may grow to great riches and glory   You may toil for yourself through the day   You may write in your record and story     ...

Service

You may grow to great riches and glory

 

You may toil for yourself through the day

 

You may write in your record and story

 

  The struggle you've met on the way;

 

But vain is the fame that you've boast of,

 

  and wasted the years that you can scan,

 

the strength you have not made the most of,

 

If you've rendered no service to man.

 

 

If something of you isn't living

 

  Long after the spirit is has fled;

 

If your hand seizes the toiling and giving

 

  The minute your body is dead,

 

You have quitted this world as a debtor

 

  and failed in the infinite plan;

 

If you leave not one roadway that's better,

 

  You have rendered no service to man.

 

 

"You may work for the profits of labor'

 

  And claim all its payments in gold;

 

But then if you help not your neighbor,

 

 

                                                                                  Your toil is both selfish and cold;

 

If it brings no delight to another,

 

  No rest to an overworked clan,

 

The earth shall your memory smoother,

 

  For you have rendered no service to man.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"For the things men are planning and doing

 

   Must be for the joy of all.

 

the sum of the goals we're pursing

 

   Unselfishly world wide

 

 

And if anybody's burdens are lighter

 

  Than when your poor being began,

 

You have dismally failed as a fighter,

 

  For you've rendered no service to man."