Black Poets: Kofi Awoonor.

…They say it came from the west
Where the storms at sea had felled the gulls
And the fishers dried their nets by lantern light…

The younger generation of African readers first encountered Kofi Awoonor in the classroom, such as in Senanu and Vincent’s ubiquitous A Selection of African Poetry. His poetry has been an integral part of the West African Literature-in-English curriculum for decades. 

Born in 1935 in Wheta, Ghana, his works often derived origins from his Ewe heritage. He was deeply influenced by African oral literature and sought to preserve the cultural legacy of his people through his writings. His most notable works include Night of My Blood and The House by the Sea which explored various themes associated with the shared African struggles during the decolonization period. 

Awoonor held various academic and diplomatic posts. He servedas Ghana’s Permanent Representative to the United Nationsbetween 1990 and 1994. 

His contributions to African literature were brought to an abrupt end when he was killed during the 2013 Westgate Shopping Mall attack in Nairobi, Kenya while attending the Storymoja Hay Festival.

The Weaver Bird by Kofi Awoonor.

The weaver bird built in our house
And laid its eggs on our only tree.
We did not want to send it away.
We watched the building of the nest
And supervised the egg-laying.
And the weaver returned in the guise of the owner.
Preaching salvation to us that owned the house.
They say it came from the west
Where the storms at sea had felled the gulls
And the fishers dried their nets by lantern light.
Its sermon is the divination of ourselves
And our new horizon limits at its nest.
But we cannot join the prayers and answers of the communicants.
We look for new homes every day,
For new altars we strive to rebuild
The old shrines defiled by the weaver's excrement.
Keyu Usani
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A proficient article writer, research analyst and copy editor. I have loved books for as long as I can remember. From the smell of books just out of their wraps to the feel when I run my fingertips down the spine, the fonts and sizes, the various ways cover and internal elements are arranged as much as the places books take me to and the people I meet within those pages. Archiving poetry is a special passion.