…Go! Turn all the kingdoms patch by patch.
Dig him out and fling him down to hell
While still dripping with my acid spell:
It’s not our custom yet to spare a man…
Ikeogu Oke was a Nigerian poet and journalist who died in Abuja on November 27th, 2018, at 51. He hailed from Ohafia in south-eastern Nigeria and was considered a deeply spiritual person. He sought to embody traditional African beliefs, notably wearing the Ohafia war dress to high-profile events to highlight his Igbo heritage.
Two months before his passing following a battle with cancer, he framed his death in a Facebook post—
“My Epitaph. Here lies a man who loved virtue and art,
And gave to both his fortunes and his heart.
Ikeogu Oke (1967 –).”
At the time, his fame was still high from having won the 2017 Nigeria Prize for Literature for his collection, The Heresiad. The Heresiad was praised, by the judges, as “a bold and wonderful experiment whose great strength also could have been its great weakness.”
Published by Kraft Books Ltd., it has been described as “employ(ing)the epic form in questioning power and freedom” and metaphorically probing the inner workings of societies and those who shape them. Written in rhyming couplets in a format reminiscent of Homer’s Odyssey, he spent twenty-seven years perfecting the text.
In addition to poetry, Ikeogu Oke wrote children’s literature, publishing The Lion and the Monkey and The Tortoise and the Princess in 2014 and 2015.
His life’s work was as a PR man and journalist, working most notablyas a Deputy Editor at Timbuktu Media, publishers of NEXT, which was founded by Pulitzer Prize-winning Dele Olojode in 2009. NEXT was one of the country’s most consequential media platforms emphasizing ethical reporting and investigative journalism.
Survived by family and numerous friends, Ikeogu Oke is an important figure in Nigerian literature, rightly celebrated for his bold contributions to poetry, his dedication to his craft, and his cultural sensibility.
An Excerpt from The Heresaid by Ikeogu Oke
And a monarch stirred up a row against a scorn
As he flared and blew his loud, belligerent horn:
‘Ah! That’s a mortal stepping on my toes,
Whose pride impels to take sides with my foes.’
And he charged his Faithfuls with a stern dispatch:
‘Go! Turn all the kingdoms patch by patch.
Dig him out and fling him down to hell
While still dripping with my acid spell:
It’s not our custom yet to spare a man
Who dares to glean our faults as best he can.
Such – a man of learning? Strike him dead!
And bring before my throne his upright head!
Ignore his soul or what may prove its luck:
Rather lose a lamb than forgo all the flock;
For such a man, if left to thrive on earth,
May void our honour and enforce our death.
Yes, death’s the proper fate that awaits him.
I charge you now to move and quench his dream.
Ungracious though I know this is, let Zumba die!
I’ve marked a valley where his corpse will lie.’
From Canto I, The Heresiad, (text taken from an MS version shared with the poet, Richard Ali).
- Black Poets: Ikeogu Oke. - February 10, 2025
- Ketty Nivyabandi - January 27, 2025
- Black Poets: Warsan Shire. - January 6, 2025
