Otor Udu

Otor Udu

Get me my uleso, the kerchief and ajuju

Let my measured gaits of gaiety narrate my joy 

and body gyrate to the drums beaten by palms oily from the feast of ogvwo evri.

Let me sing along with the tunes

blown out of the bamboo flutes 

from throats wet with wine

To spin the exploits of  brave kith and kin.

The raffia palm is in liaison with me and volunteers its fluid.

I wear the beads from the ancient coral reefs

Shining from several dance brushes against my velvet top.

If my anklets jingle, let them be

It is because they refuse to be still.

They hear the commands from the earth as the feet move on

To raise dust that soon settle.

My wrists wave in adulation, and fingers weary of stillness

Are raised towards the Giver of abundance.

The soil though scorched and waiting;

Shall not lament the dry-eyed sky.

Hand me my uleso

Let my feet lead my heart 

To Otor Udu. 

KONGI 77: AN ODE

Not many have the privilege of turning 77 in the developing world given the dismal life expectancy forecasts in many development analyses on Africa. Were I to be a pools better, I would have ‘permed’ seventy-seven from two thousand and eleven and arrived at a special figure as I wish Wole Soyinka happy birthday. The celebrant aka WS or Kongi was born in the seventh month of the calendar and to turn 77 within the seventh month is to say the least splendid. I deliberately chose the title of this panegyric because a living legend as inscrutable as WS is rare. For me Global African Masters or even ‘glocal’ ones who have managed to coalesce all the excellent attributes of activism, creativity, nationalism, humour and above all a penchant for a deep understanding of human frailties are indeed a rarity. Many praise especially WS activism and lifestyle that have endeared him to many over the years.  I foresee a lot of congratulatory messages dwelling on the post-nobelity of WS, having won the Nobel Prize for Literature Twenty-five years ago. I had done a piece some years ago when he turned seventy. Again, I believe it is worthy that as he ‘canters’ gallantly towards fourscore years, an ode to the dramatist be boldly written.

Within the present climate of Africa, many plays of the hoary haired remain incredibly relevant decades after they were written. One remembers two mainly, The Lion and the Jewel and Madmen and Specialists. I choose the latter because the matter of Baroka’s  loin should be left for another day. In Madmen, WS exhibits a great ability to capture lunacy of the near-rabid kind in African governance. Of special note are the mendicants, four characters who reveal to us that mendicancy is real in the different aspects of the polity, seen among the low and mighty. Indeed mendicancy shines through different areas of politics and economics to mention but two areas of our lives. Kongi must be grinning! Reminiscing on the version directed by Saidat Odofin at the University of Ibadan in the late eighties, one recalls the chants of the mendicants to attract Si Bero’s pennies which she throws at them. The play makes cannibalism a prominent theme seen in Bero and his incarcerated father.  Indeed cannibalism is here with us as seen in the violence that is gradually turning the polity into a ‘Wasteland’ not only of human flesh, but of destinies.

Very clearly, WS has created an aesthetic that provides an inward look into Africa, her history, the malaise in governance, injustice, war mongering, and blatant wastage of human life as well as the denigration of ancient wisdom. I salute WS who has spent over six decades of his existence to delight the world through his creativity, artistry, activism and humaneness. May the ink flow from your pen continue to touch lives locally and have global impact. Rem acu Tetigisti!    

Kongi, Professor Pupa, Happy Birthday.

Professor Mabel Evwierhoma

Department of Theatre Arts

 University of Abuja

kokoriwife@gmail.com  08037879362