ngugi2

 

Ngugi, the Kenyan griot, sat us down
one cold evening at Kuto
and told us about the day Silone
said our savage languages
had no more than two or three words
in vocabulary.

Ngugi told us he sprung to his feet like
Amalinze the cat,
to defend us,
to defend these packets
of rhythm —
and music —
and dance
that need no defense.

Later that night, he said,
after setting the Italian straight,
he returned to his room
to resume
writing the manuscript of the classic —
Weep Not, Child.
He wrote the next word in English,
and his soul wept.

 

 

**************

Post image via AFKinsider

About the Author:

portrait-orimoloyeMoyosore Orimoloye is a poet from Akure, Nigeria, who has had his work published in The Ilanot Review, The Rising Phoenix Review, The Kalahari Review and The Best New African Poets 2015 anthology. His poem, “Love Is a Plot Device and Your Insecticide Is Not,” co-won the Babishai Niwe Poetry Award in August 2016. He is currently an Intern Pharmacist at the Neuropsychiatric Hospital, Aro, Abeokuta. He tweets from @MoyoOrims.

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One Response to “On Ngugi | by Moyosore Orimoloye | African Poetry” Subscribe

  1. Femi Ojosu 2017/01/31 at 14:25 #

    Apt just apt.

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I hold a doctorate in English from Duke University and recently joined the Marquette University English faculty as an Assistant Professor. I love teaching African fiction and contemporary British novels. Brittle Paper is the virtual space/station where I play and experiment with ideas on how to reinvent African fiction and literary culture.

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