When the highest bidder wanted to buy a monkey – his assistant gave him me; and this is what I had to say: I am African, but, I am not a Monkey, a Gorilla or a Chimpanzee we are custodians of the best wildlife we house the best creatures to ever exist in this life-…
Effie Nkrumah
Her name is Effie Nkrumah. Formerly known as Benumah, she is a multifaceted artist – writer, poet, actress and director – and she also works in the Academia. She tells AfroWomenPoetry that she started consciously writing in 2011: “I needed a way to get my questions and thoughts out – it was quite accidental but…
Silent hate
“Am a man” he says, The first being Don’t forget you came from me and not me from you Keep your voice low Cry on the pillow Don’t let them know It’s a shame Just do this for me Very simple Cook for me Wash for me Part your legs for me And don’t even…
(Blue) for Sudan
(1) Clutched my heart a terrible invasive grief. One of my father’s calling my skin its own, as it shed cries of mercy. Of a divine pardon. Of an outpouring rahma* to reach the lives lost to the march. Mourning settled in the veins. Of a country that bled in each corner, wounded dreams of…
Jean Rhys
I think of the divided self of Jean Rhys in Dominica, her invisible self in London, and the depth, scope, scale of her writing: What was achievable in her lifetime is achievable now, the winter’s tale of Jean Rhys, and her tragedy of errors, of losing a child, and her failed marriages. She was a…
Threshold (For my sisters rejecting FGM)
I am seventeen The moon giggles shyly and caresses the skies Sipi Falls cascade in a wave of excitement. I waltz with the falls downstream A tinge of warmth engulfs me My feet rub… My future. The village awakes It is the rite season The search… She descends with a knife I grip my tears…
Forget (Arua) Remember (Pakwac)
Forget how the rolling hills stopped rolling and began unfolding into flatlands. You have left the badlands. Forget how the sky opened and left behind skyscrapers and scraped knees bleeding into pavement and how blood paved your way into estrangement. Your scraped skin already belonged to the streets and the wounds flowering on your body…
The Plead for Change
Change! Change! Change! There was no response Yet I plead for change not to change Growing up, I thought my generation and That of my children are going to be the best But now, I strummer and stagger Yes we all want change We don’t know weather The change will be positive or negative The…