A New Book of African Verse

by John O. Reed (Editor), Clive Wake (Editor)

. 1969 clean bright copy

Genres: Poetry, Africa

116 pages, Paperback

First published June 1, 1964

About the author

John O. Reed (1929 London - 2012 Manchester) was an anthologist and translator of African literature.

Reviews

[John Anthony · Rating 3 out of 5]

First published in 1964, reprinted thereafter for 3 successive years; so mine must be a 1967 copy.

This would be around the time, I suppose, when many of the African states were gaining their independence and getting to grips with their post colonial world. Two generations of poets make up this collection. The oldest I found was born in 1901 and the youngest in 1935. Quite a number are translated from the French language.

There are signs of colonialism here but much more interesting to me is life in Africa at a local level – cultures, traditions, superstitions, religious practices, the effect of outsiders….

These are just a few extracts which caught my eye..

from ‘The Meaning of Africa’ by Abioseh Nicol:

“You are not a country, Africa,
You are a concept,
Fashioned in our minds, each to each,
To hide our separate fears,
To dream our separate dreams,
Only those within you who know
Their circumscribed plot,
And till it well with steady plough
Can from that harvest then look up
To the vast blue inside
Of the enamelled bowl of sky
Which covers you and say
‘This is my Africa’ meaning
‘I am content and happy.
I am fulfilled, within,
Without and roundabout
I have gained the little longings
Of my hands, my loins, my heart
And the soul that follows in my shadow.’
I know now that is what you are, Africa:
Happiness, contentment, and fulfilment,
And a small bird singing on a mango tree.”

From ‘Two Old Merina Songs’ by Jean-Joseph Rabearivelo

“...Young man, how many lovers have you.
….My cousin, I have scarcely any lovers for my lovers are no more than seven; the first is the lover that cuts my nails; the second is the lover who takes the place of the one with us in the house, when I am away from home; the third takes her place in an emergency; the fourth is the lover who follows me with her eyes when I go away; the fifth is the lover who comes to meet me when I return; the sixth is the lover who sustains my life like rice; the seventh is the lover who does not mix with the crowd and even when she happens to be amongst them always knows how to make herself distinguished.” (Translated from the French)

From ‘Stanley meets Mutesa’ by David Rubadiri

“The gate of reeds is flung open,
There is silence
But only a moment’s silence-
A silence of assessment.
The tall black king steps forward,
He towers over the bearded white man
Then grabbing his lean white hand
Manages to whisper
‘Mtu Mweupe karibu’
White man you are welcome.
The gate of polished reed closes behind them
And the west is let in”.

And so, by contrast, from ‘A Negro Labourer in Liverpool’, again by David Rubadiri:

“This is him-
The negro labourer in Liverpool
That from his motherland,
A heart heavy
With the load of a century’s oppression,
Gloriously sought for an identity
Grappled to clutch the fire of manhood
In the land of the free.
But here are only the free dead-
For they too are groping for a light.

Will that sun
That greeted him from his mother’s womb
Ever shine again?
Not here-
Here his hope is the shovel,
And his fulfilment resignation”.

Time now to read some more recent poetry of Africa.