NO NOBEL FOR NGÙGÌ So, no Nobel for Ngùgì As none was for other African Literatures None for the gone god of literature-Chinua Achebe Neither for these great poets: Lèopold Sèdar Senghor or Taban Lo Liyong Nor John Ruganda, the greatest playwrights Was the prize meant for we underneath coals mutants? It was not for we pitch people anyway Do we have any likeable literature? Where! And if it is there Underdeveloped-not at all a world class It is the poor primitive poverty ridden one The illiterate black literature For an African literature writer or scholar to be conferred The Alfred Nobel secretive selection prize It must not be with a western ideologies rebel and libel- Controversial as they say-not controversial As The unfair Trial of Dedan Kìmathi Talk of Chinua’s biting the finger that feeds you! Ah! Weep not child of the land We are A grain of wheat buried in our own mind When the rains Rivers bring between us Bah-a-ss! Clap your hand We sprout We shoot, shout We are Matigari ma Njirùngì The dare defeaters of this Devil on the cross We will still Decolonize their mind With the bitter truth That they want to remain inertly in us hidden We will unearth it in our own independent thoughts In our poor poverty ridden, illiterate literatures Even if it means never ever, no Nobel for Ngùgì We won’t marry the way they want We will Marry when we want-in our own style We will live our own way The way we want it That, that to us we deem right We are the Wizards of these colonial crows Petals of blood!
Posted on: Thu, 16 Oct 2014 06:41:12 +0000
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