THE TRAVELLERS

 

You don't need to worry

we are not in a hurry

our lorry left early enough

though we are heading for Warri

and of course, Port-'arcourt

We are not worried

that by ten

we may not know fury

By then

We could only be weary

Or hours after then even: merry

And asking for cherries or fresh berries

We don't need to board any ferry

This lorry is cool enough, dear

never dusty, never too domestic

It's never lousy, dizzying and devoid of history

as you render and tender

we do not trust it's so

It's only too dream-like, too romantic

 that even the aged among us dance

in golden silence.

 

We might be late now

but we are lateless

let it be heavy rain coming

Or a brooding darkness calling

by then we could be hairy

or hours thereafter merry.

 

 







Josiah's: Man Barthosa, oil pastel, 1987







 






TRAVAILS JUNGLE

 

Two thorns on a brown thumb

One thorn in a brown thumb

Three thorns and red fingers

A joke can kill!

 

Nsukka, the journey

your check is in the mail, ha ha

jokes can kill

jokes can cure

For pain is only in the mind- hello

Second chance, always a miracle

Second choice, never a miracle, never admirable

 

Nsukka, the journey

Nsukka, the return? Now

Fast food dinner

Walk in the streets

Talk in the streets

Unusual bills to pay

Talk in the streets

Walk in the streets

Lost years in travails jungles

Why some men hit their wives

And wonder so long that way

 

As the rise and fall and fall of a falling hero

Fuels souls with inspiration

But doesn't knowledge breed dominion

 

While the rise and fall and rise of a rising hero

Feeds all with aspiration, yet

Increase in knowledge may beget denominations

 

 











Studies I & II: Rain Machine, ebony wood, leather, acrylic on board 1996
12"x49, 12"x52", 1996















 

FOREST PATH

 

To "A maala for its proverbial ways

Nnsukka class culture

Visual Communication Class of 1997

 

 

'Nza, the little bird

That has from the ground

Flown to perch on

Nka earth mound...

Is he not still

On the ground?'

One of us asked;

 

…from its little beak

came a lasting song:

 

'A cook

In a hurry

To lick the fingers...

Are fingers meant

For the rafter?