On this week's episode of Young African Poets, we step into a particular childhood memory of the Intellectual poet, Micheal Imossan and a poem he titled "What Guilt Did To Me".
I am an African female being who absorbs the pain of other African female beings - FGM, forced marriages, miscarriages, sexual assaults, depression, domestic violence; who writes about pain she did not experience because others, like her, have; and writes about it. I just want to say: “I see you”, “I feel you”, and most importantly, “someone cares”.
Sometimes, I need something to remind me I exist in the world and poetry usually brings both the questions and the answers. .. If we do not know who we are, then how can we find out what we are here for?
...I can't detach the nexus of unmet desires so I attach it with glue, set it to dry under the sun to loose myself off the claws of nostalgia, to alight at the range of where I mount the transport.
Meanwhile, the infectious energy of Yoruba movies drifted in from the living room. My dad, a fervent fan, would often have them playing in the background. The booming pronouncements, and the lyrical exchanges, often delivered in poetic verse, were a constant companion to my afternoons spent with African poetry. It dawned on me – both the poems and the movies revelled in the power of words. They held the magic to weave stories, paint pictures, and stir emotions, all with the simple tools of language.
in this narration of Ayobami's childhood, Ayobami takes us through the world of politics in a certain Western Nigerian state and why mathematics is not his best friend.
In this hometown, my uncles have feigned an onset dementia. They have made caste difference, the mark of a malignance. One is taken to the backyard shrubberies , to be uprooted with exasperation. To be done away with wrath.
Last year, I wrote poems influenced by various fruits, melding their physical traits with cultural meanings. A nostalgic childhood memory of oranges and my mother's love for them vividly resurfaced, inspiring a haiku I greatly enjoyed creating.
And then one day, everything stopped. We felt too mature to indulge in such childishness. Adulthood slowly began to toughen the carapace of our tenderness. We were estranged from each other too as a new variation in location dawned. I relocated to Ibadan alongside my parents.
