MEMORY'S INESCAPABILITY: A review of IFÉSINÀCHI NWÁDIKÈ'S How Morning Remembers The Night by Ikechukwu Iwuagwu
Publisher:
Winepress Publishing & Griots Lounge Publishing
Year: 2020
Pagination:
66
Reviewer:
Ikechukwu Iwuagwu
The
inextricability of literature and reality is a standard which gives literary
pieces varying degrees of quality. Grief, sorrow, regret, joy and happiness
amongst others are fabrics or components which lace our memories. Ifesinachi
Nwadike's 33 poem collection titled How Morning Remembers the Night
bares relentlessly the colour and mien of memories as regard to the poet, and
by extension his immediate society. Ushering us in with an introit which in my
view, is a painting with words which gives us a nutshell of this literary
master piece, more or less a foreshadow, Nwadike shows his proclivity for
activism and concern for ones nation:
Grief came
knocking on my heart's door...
Grief of a
comrade, in a hurry, No goodbyes...
Of
activists, nationalists, patriots whose bloods, their nation's root sprout in
Of jungle justice... Of Ochanya, Leah and
maidens plucked from the safety of home.... (11).
The first
part, "A Deluge of Grief and Anguish", comprises befitting tributes
in which Nwadike underscores the collection's titular tryst to Nigerians and by
extension Africans who share in this pizza of memories ranging from grief and
sorrowful moments down to the cluelessness and evident wickedness of supposed
leaders and to an extent, distinctive experiences with cupid's arrows. As usual
with unique and classic literary pieces, it seems like engaging in Sisyphus's
plight when posed with the challenge of selecting poems that can be termed the
best in the collection, be that as it may, "Bang! Bang! Bang!",
"In Blood Day Light", "Death Came Calling in the Guise of
Pleasure", "Memory is a Crust of Blood", "Purple is the
Colour of Mourning", "The gods Missed You So Much", "Graffiti
on a Rebel's Remains" reflect life's intricacies, man's inhumanity, sheer
wickedness, ignorance and how their fangs have injected into the memory of the
society, a poisonous venom that keeps spreading like cancer.
The idiocy
and hatred which stirred the 1967-1970 pogrom and unripe exit of legends such
as Pius Adesanmi, Stella Adadevoh, Esiaba Irobi amongst others isn't left out as
it makes this part of the collection an emotional one, reawakening our memories
to worthy souls and tragic happenstances that shouldn't be forgotten in a
hurry. "Denunded, Agwa sits supine" is yet another poem in this part
which reflects a percentage of greater evil which religious fanaticism bequeathed
to ignorant Africans by the white man whose double edged blade of ignorance and
foolishness has rent the tiny thread holding our beliefs together hence things
falling apart.
On the other
hand, "De-Money-Crazy", "House of Legislathieves", "Vision
Infinity", "Who Says We are Corrupt", "These Baptisms
Notwithstanding" through the poet's excellent satirical stance, lay bare
the extreme level of greed, naivety, and negligence of our leaders from the
onset, and how it has boomeranged by plundering our nation into the chasm of
destruction and retrogression. Needless to mention that these supposed leaders
take pride in their proclivity of exhibiting ignorance with finesse:
Here,
it is government of the Legislooters
By the Executhieves and for the
Judisharing
Politrickal bugs
Milking the treasured breast of the
Nayshun... (45).
Peharps, in
what I term a well crafted resolution, Nwadike's collection ends with the third
part tagged "Songbird" where we see a buxom of praises and encomiums
written in respect of inspirators, role models and worthy recipients who
despite their varying fields ranging from the fraternity of the pen, politics
to the enclave of cupid's essence, have distinguished themselves with astute uniqueness
and excellence, hence of great significance to the poet. "On this Eve of
Sprouting Madness" and "As Leak-Proof as the Scrotum" are
clearly metaphorical poems in honour of distingushed literary giants cum role
models whose greyish wisdom in the literary world has gone a long way in
piloting the poet's growth like the farmer to the yam tendrils, he praises
these bards for their blunt roles in reeling him out from the chasm of naivety:
Niyi
Your words
Broke the virginity
Of my curtained eyeballs
It now sees beyond the
standpoint
Of the possessor...
I
Wait
By the oblong door
To
Be given the armour
Of initiates.... (58-59).
"From a
Limitless Smoldering" furthermore, praises Chimamanda Adichie's unwavering
inclination towards the deconstruction of the agelong societal practice of
gender inequality while "They Feasted on A Minority" reawakens a
memory that haunts all who played a role in its creation. Underscoring the
assertion that the devil you know is better than the angel you don't know,
Nwadike simultaneously mourns and praises a former leader of this nation who is
clearly a saint when placed side by side
his traducers this:
A Parliament of vultures
Gathered to feast on a minority
The hegemonic mob clobbered and left
to die
A cacophony of hate and remedial
greed
IV
You left before dusk
From the house
Where you were forbidden to stay the
night
Now they have realized
That the water needs not be clean
To quench a fire... (62)
"Sweet Scent of citrus" solidifies
the possibility of finding true love in this time of materialistic based
relationships and heartbreaks as even the poet had his own fair share.
Nwadike's use
of figurative expressions, friendly diction, imageries, enjambments and
transliteration obviously cuts him out as a seasoned bard whose pen dances not
just to the informative drumbeats of literature but also to its informative
persona. It is equally not false to assert that the average reader can resonate
completely with not less than twenty poems in this collection, it is therefore
not an overemphasis to imply that How Morning Remembers the Night recalled
our memories almost dozing off upon the bed of history back to reality.
Comments
Post a comment