Music that is mine

 

  At last, something that rings out the sorrow from my old soul

A Beethoven of nature 

A healing hymn that straightens my spine till I exhale my guilt                                  

A stroke that paralyzes my mind from reality’s truth
A builder of a universe of bliss
 A star glistening shadows of yesterday into the future
like the tantrum of an earthquake after years  of slumber  

A harmony of angelic voices raining the notes of victory from one ear to another
 A birth of rhyme and unison of perfect melody
Unite all my senses so I can comprehend how you beat diseases with beats 

 Or that magical principle you use to empower with vowels    
 Who can define you when you are synthesized by a deity?
  Be blues, be highlife.
Be any combination of notes and time

 But in all your being just don’t forget to be mine.

Footprints

Footprints, do you have any?

And who do you think is following them?
Far away I saw his but I never thought I’ll be him
But from the looks of things who else am I other than him, father?
Will my children make the right turn if it’s time?
Or will they inherent my pride and forget their kind?
What don’t they know that I should have known?
What do I know that they shouldn’t know?
Are good intentions not enough to bestow kindness?
Or is kindness just kindness?
I need some footprints
Where can I go without them?
What can I teach without them?
Footprints, tell me. Whose do you have?

Love spell broken

 

Moon, appear not this night

First let me find him a place to rest
A song to keep his memory
An embrace that will last eternally
Or at least a perspective that will strengthen me
For he is not coming back tomorrow
Neither will he come the day after
Love spell is broken! Love spell is broken.
He should have told me where he was going.
This is just a waste of emotions
You tease me then you disappear
You promise then you disappoint
How am I going to forget you if marriage is still wonderful?
How will I forget you when love is still debatable?
When they ask where forever is, what will I say to them?
Love spell is broken?
Or the joy that clothed me is finally stolen?
Tell me!
Who is the same when they are broken?
Or do you not hear my heart crying?
Come back to me. Come back to me.

love spell can't broken.
But this is.
Whever you are, be happy.

What an awkard way to celebrate victory.

Lost memories

When you were born, I saw you.

You played with fire and you feared no danger
You believed in dreams and your curiosity could not be quenched
Your smile was infectious and everyone loved your name.
How is it you know your limits before you try anything?
How is it you know the future before it begins?
Is a condition forged by man a reality declared by God?
Or can the truth be paralysed by lies over and over again?
If there is something I’m missing it must be you, my memories.
For in you I found the identity that cripples me and in you the words that uplift me.
Why don’t you take me to a time where there was no doubt?
Why don’t you remind me of what I did in the past?
For you are not just my memories
You are a compass of who I am.

Memories, I’m not losing you again.

Five-handed writer

 

 

 

Walking down a shortcut to work, I heard some children giggling. After a closer look, I saw what I could only describe as a representation yet to be actualized and a statement about a people opaque to strangers, and an argument whose conclusion could remain a statement  true to some and false to others. The children were running around without clothes and others were bathing outside like a bunch of savage creeps. And they were Africans like you and me. This sight reminded me of the unpublished image of Africa and  why writers in Africa should be part of the force that helps in ameliorating the matter.  Chinua Achebe, being a man skilled in words, thoughts and his culture unveils one of the duties of a writer as a teacher to his community. Minds in love with theories about experiential learning will eulogize his unique craftsmanship in presenting the internal monologue of his characters, the interpretations they have of the external world, the laws that rule their actions and the origin of their morality or conscience in novels like things fall apart , chike and the river and ants hills of the savannah. In things fall apart , Chinua Achebe does this concretely with humor,integrity,authenticity and completeness to a point that any reader new to African customs will inherit an african experience just from reading it.   In things fall apart , the weakness of Okokoo was not spared or hidden in the name of representing Africans as a people of strength and wisdom but exposed to draw a line of authenticity through him , making Okokoo not just an icon admired in his village but a symbol of his humanity, a character that is relatable and a personified reflections of the collective consciousness of man. Achebe's use of proverbs in this first novel of his should not only inform writers to be true to themselves but should also erode the doubts many have about the logic behind the English language and their fear of losing meaning to english readers in attempting to manipulate the language creatively to suit their context.  Like wealth, there is no need to share your meaning with everyone ; if it was so the gods will not keep secrets from man. Pardon me for injecting my nurtured proverbial instinct I have from reading too much of Chinua Achebe if you don't understand.

In Ghana we say " If you know , you know!" when a message should be obvious to someone but it isn't, meaning you are not the target recipient of the message if you don't understand. In other words, the language African writers must use in representing their culture  should maintain all it's attributes even in translation if we as writer seek to educate the youth and preserve our culture as teachers disguised in print.   Another taste of truth that elucidates the perils of choosing the denotational meaning of words over the connotation meaning in cultures when writing in English is the fact that people of different cultures never find humor in the same things. So what is the point of feeding a lion foofoo or giving a lamb pork? Questions like "Does he spoke English correctly?" by Jennifer from  the Nigeria series Jennifer Diary better characterize archetypes that Africans will find interesting and can identify to since English is not our language rather than its translation "Is he fluent in English?" imposed on the same speaker in the name of communication.  Examples of moments in things fall apart where the narrator presents an authentic African voice is when the narrator says " The child had been declared an ogbanje"Ogbanje is a word unfamiliar to people ignorant of Nigerian glossaries or vocabulary, yet it is able to function as a suspense device and positions the narrator as embedded with his native tongue.   A writer who will describe an ogbanje as a child who dies at birth but shows up again in the same womb and keeps showing up until his or her iyi-uwa is destroyed, might have given a denotation that is synonymous to ogbange but has also repositioned his narrator as someone without an African voice, Specifically Igbo voice, or someone talking to a non-Nigerian audience.  A popular proverb in things fall apart that illustrates the African voice of Chinua Achebe is "Men have learned to shoot without missing their mark and I have learned to fly without perching on a twig".  Clearly, the ambiguity of this statement is resolved in the context. And there is no need for the writer to interpret when it's meaning can be deduced by the reader unconsciously.  In anthills of the savannah, "I go cook you nice pepper soup." , '"I beg make you no flash light for my eye." are examples of expressions  and voices whose humor might have been diluted  had they been translated in the English language thoroughly. This brings me to a language we all use that demonstrates the value in miscommunicating while communicating to our target audience . A lot of people still struggle with some of its acronyms and abbreviations when they find themselves in new groups. I'm talking about social media.  Social media didn't just shape how we communicate; it also shaped the roles of writers in  the modern world. Imagine being on a platform full of different voices , circumscribed by a million strings of arguments, a thousand opinions without merit and lies colored as truth or truth hidden in the silence because of its unpopularity or the screams of rumors.  It can be daunting piercing your writing pen through this  but if the pen is mighter than the sword it's not because it's sharp. It's because it can control the minds of anyone if used skillfully. Writers are leaders whose opinions still guide us here whether they are alive or dead. The trouble with Nigeria according to Achebe is not the lack of resources but specifically how the country is governed. This statement he made was like a thought dropped in the minds of students by a teacher or a rebuttal to those who believe the resources in Nigeria were not enough per the population. Striking a cord like this to ignite minds of individuals  with the intellect, talent or capability to impact the economy positively is a mark of great leadership that the modern writer must earn to command his community , be it on social media , in his country, wherever he or she finds himself. For influence is not just about being a true member of your community but also having something to say especially when dilemma paralyzis reason and action. 

The stories writers tell ought to function as a pool full of ideas in the consciousness or memory of the reader, supplying him or her thoughts beyond their usual cognitive abilities, crystallized as bombs waiting for the right situation or problem to explode freely, saying " At last You've found something to do with me other than keeping me in your memory since you read me."  Since the quality of actions depends on the mind that invented them , the researcher's hat of every writer ought to be on his or her head before thinking to avoid bad writing. Impersonating Chinua Achebe , he would have backed this by saying, "The world is like a mask dancing. If you want to see it well, you don't stand in one place." Put on your hat . Talk to somebody about Africa, talk to someone about your subject matter, travel, jump into a snake hole . Find out what's in it. Learn some dance moves you only see. Put your arrogance in your pocket and act ignorant like a true student of philosophy. You will be amazed at what you will find. Who knows ? Your look might be the new fashion trend . Everyone might just be wearing that hat of yours in search of your thoughts to help them . Your concern should then be how to keep your  writing license after . Whether you are shaming your government or some people, or reminding the world of values forgotten  , without a hat what do you know ?    The writer as a guide instead of a dictator  One of the challenges most journalist face as narrators is telling a story from the point of view of their subject in words that telepathize their mood or emotions, answer questions the audience might have about them and express their state of mind objectively without exaggerating their world view or sensationalizing their narratives. Interpreters or words that suggest subjectivity or speculations should be carefully stated as such in reminding the audience of the biases that might hinder the path they travel from their present state of consciousness to a past presented to them by the subject or the journalist. Obviously, writers might fail in executing this if they are unaware of how their own knowledge of the subject   shapes their narratives or how the structure of a text suggests meaning. Hence showing how events unfold and enlisting the actions of characters in quotations and directness pops his head out as a way forward in striving to overcome this rather than engaging in arguments about misrepresentation and representations.  Chinua's quote about Art being a constant effort of man in creating a reality from that which is given to him also shoots out from behind. But if we as African writers seek to validate ourselves as a people of greatness and children bestowed on earth by a deity that exist and partakes in our affairs,  then there must  be a reality that we envision as true and real to all of us , not some of us in the first place. No wonder Chinua portrays the beliefs of Okonkoo and his people as a reality shared collectively by all members of the village before the perspective introduced by the missionaries confused  the hearts of some of them . The existence of these gods was not totally undermined by them even after. Thus, the reader can deduce from the text that the superstitious nature of the people was not as a result of foolishness but justified by past warnings from their gods.

Thus placing two pens in the hand of Achebe, one for writing arguments against Christianity and the other for writing arguments against worshipping other gods, establishing his narrative as one of an objective nature.   In other words, it's not about who represents the culture of our people since some writers are skilled at the task yet lack the knowledge in doing it and there are those who know the culture yet lack that know-how in representing them. It's about how the narrative is presented .  In Chinua Achebe Anthills of Savannah, the novel is dialogue driven and arguments on both sides of the truth had been given a fair hearing before the readers. The verdict is then up to the reader. This puts the interpreting lens in the hand of the reader and not the writer.  With this in mind, you will agree with me when I say any writer with a good understanding of linguistics , logic and talented deserves the license to represent a people he knows nothing about provided he can use techniques like the one used by Chinua Achebe in structuring his narratives objectively. His only milestone in this sense will be contextualizing the events and actions with it's ambiguities without using interpreters or descriptors that function as interpreters and learning about the language of the people.  
 I would like to conclude by summarizing the roles of a modern writer as a man with five hands. One for teaching his past and projecting a possible future , the second for representing meaning and himself authentically, another for moderating arguments and planting good ideas while directing thinking, the last two for shaping narratives and representing knowledge or perserving them. The hope of Africa is in how we represent our selves and our knowledge. Not the man who knows of them . For he can only know that which you show him and never the meaning conceded in them. And if knowledge is recycled for the better so must some of our primitive customs if they are counter productive per our vision. Publish Africa today in what you do. The world is waiting to see if what they have heard of it is true.

The play that went right

 

“Not again. If he doesn’t come, not only will I stop acting, I’m not singing again." Nii vowed, after hours of waiting for Papa.  Unfortunately, Papa was in traffic.  The question is how would Nii know . And even if he did, it was Papa’s problem, not his.  Because no one forced Papa to make any promise.  He promised to come to Nii’s play even though he knew how busy his life was.  “I don’t care if it’s a play by Chigozie Obioma, or a play by Tyler Perry, if he doesn’t show up, this will be my last performance. “ Nii warned, looking around for the hoe he needed for his performance.

“Don’t say that my son, “Nii’s mother worried. “Your father knows how important today is.”

“Then where is he, Mama?” Full of bitterness, Nii asked. “If he knew how important acting was to me, he would be here today.”

“I know. “ Mama agreed.  There was nothing more she could say. She had tried calling Papa but he refused to pick or even call back.

“This is sad.” Nii’s brother said, considering the number of hours it took Nii to dress up as a farmer.

  Minutes later, mama’s phone rung.  Though she expected the one calling to be Papa, it was just Mansa. A nobody.

“Nii, it’s time.” The director of Nii’s play informed him, offering him a hoe. “Here, use this hoe and remember who you are. You are the best farmer I’ve ever had.  Wherever your father is, I’m sure he is proud of you. “

“Do you have someone to play the masked father in- law now?”

“Yes. So just hurry up. Everyone is waiting for you on the stage. ”


On the stage,  next to Nii stood a man in a mask . He was supposed to be a father in law in the play and lots of people were seated just to see  both of them act . “Don’t think I’m fooled by your mask“, Nii said, just like he rehearsed. “I know who you are.  I’m not going to give up because of you.” It was now the turn of the man in mask.

“Have you considered that my daughter here is a soon-to-be pharmacist?”

“Yes, Sir “

“Have you considered that she is now completing her bachelor’s in pharmacy and will proceed to do her MPhil in the UK?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you considered young man, what kind of future you, an unschooled farmer, will have with her?”

“ Yes, Sir.”

“Then you must marry her.”  The masked man finally said, removing his mask. He was Papa.

“My God, Papa!” Nii screamed, forgetting he was on the stage and supposed to be in character.

“Yes , my son.”

“What are you doing in my play?”

“I told you I will keep my promise.  Didn’t I? Do you believe me now?”

I know what is wrong with my sink

 

 

 

ACT I

SCENE 1- DAVID’S- BEDROOM - MIDNIGHT
It’s dark . The Lights are now suddenly back on . We see a woman. Her arms are
crossed over each other and she is wearing an angry look on her face.
Next to her , a man .  He is snoring in bed and the woman stares angrily at him. Finally she shakes the snore out of him .

LUCY
David!!! David!!!

DAVID
Not again. What is it this time?

LUCY
It’s nothing to be angry about. It’s just a simple question.

DAVID
What kind of simple question needs answer at midnight?

LUCY
I don’t know .

DAVID
I see. Come on . We both know what this is . You just want to tell me how much you love me for getting you a new car...well, you don’t need to...because I didn’t steal the car. I purchased it ...Can I go back to bed now ?


Lucy opens her mouth in shock.


LUCY
Oh my God !You purchased it ?


DAVID
Of course, I bought you the car. How did you think I did it?

Then Lucy burst into tears.




LUCY
( Crying )
Coward . I should have known it . You never do anything special for me. What was I thinking?

DAVID
Come on Lucy. You don't have to pretend you are sad. You have a car now . And for the record, I try my best to do special things sometimes for you. Unfortunately, they always turn up to be special only to me .

LUCY
What’s so special about buying me a car. Everyone  buys me a car. You should have stolen it .

Then she continues to cry.

DAVID
Stolen it? ...Maybe another time , my love . Another time. A crime of Passion is just not what I do .

LUCY
What ?  You think burglary is a crime ?  I know what you are doing. You don't love me but you don't have the balls to say it. There is nothing wrong with stealing for love. It's an act of kindness. And it's injustice to jail people for loving.  Everybody knows that . ...Everyone but my boo.

She grabs a bottle of liquor and takes some shots.

DAVID
Give me that.

David grabs the bottle from her.

LUCY
You are not my doctor. Give me that bottle.

She grabs the bottle from David.

DAVID
...You are going to kill yourself, Lucy.

 LUCY
It's better than living with you.


DAVID
You know I love you.

LUCY
More lies . More lies to prove you care . You don’t mean
those words. When are you going to sacrifice for love ?
When? When are you going to lose something to love like others do ? lose property ! Lose a leg. loose your mind for Christ sake. Lose something for the one you love. It’s not a crime if you steal a car for me to prove you love me. Who cares if it is? It’s out of love ; people in love do whatever they want even if it’s against the law. You are not in love . That’s why You still got that head of yours screwed on.

DAVID
... Something maybe you should do instead of this. Who said you can go about loving people over the law?

Disappointed, Lucy slaps her head for dating him and now she sips another bottle of wine to console herself.

LUCY
For someone who is wise, you sound really stupid sometimes. Look around . Who hasn’t done something illegal for love before? People misrepresents themselves on dates all the time ...but no one is in court for that. Why can’t you do something bad for love? Why must it always be another man dying for love and never you? God, I hate you


Quickly, David seizes the bottle from her and takes some shot himself...

DAVID
... You are not being fair to me. That was just a coincidence

LUCY
What kind of coincidence?

DAVID
( Still drinking)
... what’s love got to do with stupidity anyways?

LUCY
Everything…just tell me why you are doing this to me and I will leave.

DAVID
Why I’m doing what ?

LUCY
I mean don’t you feel it? Don’t you want to do it?

DAVID
"Don’t I feel it? Don’t I want to do it? “I have no idea what you talking about? Don’t I want to do what?

LUCY
Can’t you see it all over the place? The signs, the energy . Am I that bad at seduction? ...or you just don't find me attractive? I mean don’t you want to rape me?

DAVID
...Rape you?

David laughs.

DAVID
Why would I want to do something outrageous as that?

LUCY
Because I’m beautiful. Because you can’t control yourself over me .Because you are in love. Oh my goodness. My husband doesn’t love me and he doesn’t even know it.

Lucy snaps , crying  once again . She grabs the bottle from David
And take some shots.

DAVID
I’ve never raped anybody.

LUCY
...but I want you to .I want to have babies, too!

DAVID
Nobody is raping anybody . I’m getting back to
bed and so are  you . Goodnight.


Then David covers his head with his blanket.

Quickly, Lucy takes off his blanket and begins to caress him.

DAVID
What do you think you are doing?

LUCY
You are my husband .

DAVID
Then respect me when I say no .

LUCY
Fine . Sleep whenever you want .That’s how you get our sink unfixed.

DAVID
Wasn't there a plumber here to do it?

LUCY
You don’t think I know that ? I need a man. I mean a plumber.


DAVID
Fine . He will be here tomorrow.

LUCY
Tell me something I don’t know.

Then she puts off the light .



Act one - scene 2
INT - DAVID's APARTMENT'S -DAY
A man dressed as a plumber stands outside the door knocking. Lucy checks herself in a mirror , changes into something that reveals her cleavages, then quickly opens the door.

LUCY
Sorry for the...Wow . I didn’t know you would be so handsome, mister plumber.

PLUMBER
Mrs Lucy ?

LUCY
Just Lucy is fine .


PLUMBER
I'm Jack.

LUCY
Alright, Jack.  I have a huge problem and I hope you have
the  tools to fix it. My sink, it's  in a mess- a really big mess.

PLUMBER
...no problem . Can you show me?

LUCY
( Pointing her bedroom)
My bad . It's upstairs. And be careful.

So Jack climbs up.


INT. BEDROOM-MOMENTS AFTER

PLUMBER
( Yells)
Madame , this is your bedroom...and I don't see a leak ?

LUCY
My bad . I think the kitchen is down instead.


Jack climbs down.

LUCY
Sorry about that . It's a new house.

PLUMBER
No problem.

Then he dives down the kitchen sink with his tools . ...and begins examining it.


LUCY
You know my husband won’t be back for sometime - a very long time.



PLUMBER
( Still examing the sink below)
Interesting . So what will you be doing all this time?

LUCY
That’s a question you can help me answer, sweetheart.


PLUMBER
Hmm ...everything seems fine here.

LUCY
I know.

When Jack pulls himself from the sink, he finds Lucy half-naked waiting for him.

LUCY
Everything is fine because I fixed it. ( Then she moves closer to Jack)...You wanna
know the sink that really needs fixing ? It's me.

Then she hugs the Plumber tightly . She offers him one of her thighs and begins to kiss him.

PLUMBER
I should be paying you after this .

LUCY
I don't want your money . Just fix my sink .

Jack notices the kitchen door still open .

PLUMBER
The door...

LUCY
I'm not expecting anyone at home ...just you . Why don't you just fix me ?  Fix me good, jack .

When the plumber undresses , someone calls out from the door . It's David.

DAVID
Lucy ...

PLUMBER
I thought you said you weren't expecting anyone.

LUCY
It's my husband...play cool . He probably must have been fired or something

The plumber quickly dresses and hides down the sink, pretending to examine it.

DAVID
Lucy , I’m home baby . ...Now where could that wife of mine be ? ...Lucy! ...Where are you baby?

Then he enters the kitchen

LUCY
David...

DAVID
Where were you ? And who is under my sink ?

LUCY
Who else ? ...It's the plumber .

DAVID
I hope he fixes the sink once and for all ...I’m
tired of having plumbers look at the same sink over and over again .
( To plumber)
What do you think is wrong with it, plumber ?

Jack pulls up from the sink to answer

PLUMBER
Ummm ...major problem with the pipes. I’ll replace those flimsy
rubber hoses with stainless steel ones and everything will be fine.

DAVID
Sounds like a good plan .

PLUMBER
I need to be back tomorrow to fix it.

DAVID
No pressure . It's your home if you can fix it .

PLUMBER
I’ll be on my way .

In a haste, Jack forgets his tools box behind .

DAVID
Hey, you forgot something.

David offers it to him.

DAVID
What's the hurry?

PLUMBER
You won't understand . She is going to kill me if I'm late again.

DAVID
Alright Jack, tomorrow.

Jack then disappears.

DAVID
So what did he fix that is so expensive down the sink

LUCY
I don't know...Why are you so home early ? Did you lose your job ?

David
What is that suppose to mean? ...can't I come home early for good reasons ?

LUCY
( Walking upstairs)
I’ll be upstairs if you need me.

DAVID
Give me a minute.

David walks into the kitchen. He turns on the sink and its working fine.

DAVID
That's a surprise. I thought he said he'll fix it tomorrow.

He looks down the sink curiously and finds an unused condom down there.


LUCY
( Yells from the bedroom)
...don’t keep me waiting, honey.


DAVID
( Confused)
What in the world is a condom doing down my sink?... I see .

Then David joins Lucy up stairs .


ACT one- scene three

INT. BEDROOM-DAYS AFTER

LUCY
(To David)
You know you were right. Can you believe that plumber didn’t show up after paying him off?

DAVID
I told you so.

LUCY
We need a new one.

DAVID
You mean you need a new man right ?

LUCY
Yes. A new plumber . The sink has started acting up again.

DAVID
I see...And what’s wrong with it this time? Too wet for you? ...or your pipes just blocked again?

LUCY
Don't play dumb with me . You saw how bad those pipes were.

DAVID
I’m sure I did. And I wonder why .

LUCY
Why do I feel like you are laughing at me instead of talking to me ? Is there something I should know ?

DAVID
Why don’t you tell me ?

LUCY
I don’t understand.

DAVID
Tell me something . The plumber we hire . How good are they in fixing your sink?

LUCY
What is this about ?

DAVID
Your sink of course . What else ?

LUCY
What’s going on, honey ? I said I needed a plumber not an argument.

DAVID
Why do we need a plumber when I already know what's wrong with the sink?

LUCY
...Well, don’t keep me in suspense. Tell me what was wrong with it?

David then shows her the condom .

LUCY
( Fakes laughter)
...Oh my God a condom !!!

DAVID
...For who?

LUCY
Well, I don't know . ...Do you?

DAVID
Why do you think that plumber never returned?


LUCY
Oh my God .... Somebody please marry me. My husband
Knows what’s wrong with my sink. Please, marry me.



THE END