The Lion and the Jewel

 Sidi, a Nigerian village beauty
 featured in a glossy magazine

The Lion and the Jewel is a play by Nigerian writer Wole Soyinka that was first performed in 1959. It chronicles how Baroka, the lion, fights with the modern Lakunle over the right to marry Sidi, the titular Jewel. Lakunle is portrayed as the civilized antithesis of Baroka and unilaterally attempts to modernize his community and change its social conventions for no reason other than the fact that he can. The transcript of the play was first published in 1962 by Oxford University Press. Soyinka emphasizes the theme of the corrupted African culture through the play, as well as how the youth should embrace the original African culture. 

Summary

Lakunle is a school teacher who wants to marry Sidi, the belle of Ilujinle, but does not want to pay the bride price because he says that such a custom is barbaric. He wants to wed Sidi in the Western fashion. Sidi on the other hand will marry him only on the ground that he pays the bride price. 

The Bale, the lion of Ilujinle, (he is 62 years old) also wants to marry her because of her "beauty and fame that has spread to Lagos and beyond the seas". Sidi refuses the Bale's proposal, saying he is too old for her. The Bale then lied to his head wife, Sadiku, that he has lost is potency as a man a week ago. He warned her not to "parade his shame before the world". Sadiku later told Sidi about it so that she can go and subtly mock the Bale. From their conversation, the Bale soon discovered that Sadiku has betrayed his trust by divulging  the secret to Sidi. He started praising Sidi's beauty just to seduce her. She lost her virginity before she realized what was happening. Lakunle is angry but still willing to marry Sidi without the bride price since she was no longer a virgin. Sidi however married the Bale instead, claiming that at sixty, Baroka is still full of life but Lakunle would be probably "ten years dead".

Ah! did u get that right? I mean the part where she decided to marry the man she once claimed was too old for her. Hehe!

Here Is Another One For Lovers

A Special World

A special world for you and me 
A special bond one cannot see             
It wraps us up in its cocoon
And holds us fiercely in its womb.

Its fingers spread like fine spun gold
Gently nestling us to the fold
Like silken thread it holds us fast 

Bonds like this are meant to last.

And though at times a thread may break
A new one forms in its wake
To bind us closer and keep us strong
In a special world, where we belong.

- Sheelagh Lennon -
This poem is about two people who are in love. The love they share makes them feel like they are in a different world that just the two of them can live in and enjoy. The lovers, although happy, are not immune to the problems that relationships encounters, but they always kiss and make up, hence, 
'''And though at times a thread may break
A new one forms in its wake
To bind us closer and keep us strong
In a special world, where we belong.''
please do share your thoughts with me on what you  think of the poem.

To His Coy Mistress

Andrew Marvell

Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, Lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk and pass our long love’s day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges’ side
Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood,
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow;
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast;
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart;
For, Lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.
   But at my back I always hear
Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song: then worms shall try
That long preserved virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust:
The grave’s a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.
   Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may,
And now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapped power.
Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

Andrew Marvell  (1621–1678)

Born on March 31, 1621, Marvell grew up in the Yorkshire town of Hull, England, where his father, Rev. Andrew Marvell, was a lecturer at Holy Trinity Church and master of the Charterhouse. At age twelve... read more

Sir Henry Curtis

I have a brother named Henry, but there is this old man that always calls him, Sir Henry Curtis. Often time I have wondered why he calls him that and where he even got the name from. However, my curiosity was satisfied after I read the novel - King Solomon's Mines by H. Rider Haggard. Please read the summary below.    

Summary

Allan Quatermain, an adventurer and white hunter based in Durban, in what is now South Africa, is approached by aristocrat Sir Henry Curtis and his friend Captain Good, seeking his help finding Sir Henry's brother, who was last seen travelling North into the unexplored interior on a quest for the fabled King Solomon's Mines. Quatermain has a mysterious map purporting to lead to the mines, but had never taken it seriously. However, he agrees to lead an expedition in return for a share of the treasure, or a stipend for his son if he is killed along the way. He has little hope they will return alive, but reasons that he has already outlived most people in his profession, so dying in this manner at least ensures that his son will be provided for. They also take along a mysterious native, Umbopa, who seems more regal, handsome and well-spoken than most porters of his class, but who is very anxious to join the party.

Travelling by oxcart, they reach the edge of a desert, but not before a hunt in which a wounded elephant claims the life of a servant. They continue on foot across the desert, almost dying of thirst before finding the oasis shown halfway across on the map. Reaching a mountain range called Suliman Berg, they climb a peak (one of "Sheba's Breasts") and enter a cave where they find the frozen corpse of José Silvestre (also spelt Silvestra), the 16th-century Portuguese explorer who drew the map in his own blood. That night, a second servant dies from the cold, so they leave his body next to Silvestra's, to "give him a companion". They cross the mountains into a raised valley, lush and green, known as Kukuanaland. The inhabitants have a well organised army and society and speak an ancient dialect of IsiZulu. Kukuanaland's capital is Loo, the destination of a magnificent road from ancient times. The city is dominated by a central royal kraal.

They soon meet a party of Kukuana warriors who are about to kill them when Captain Good nervously fidgets with his false teeth, making the Kukuanas recoil in fear. Thereafter, to protect themselves, they style themselves "white men from the stars"—sorcerer-gods—and are required to give regular proof of their divinity, considerably straining both their nerves and their ingenuity.

They are brought before King Twala, who rules over his people with ruthless violence. He came to power years before when he murdered his brother, the previous king, and drove his brother's wife and infant son, Ignosi, out into the desert to die. Twala's rule is unchallenged. An evil, impossibly ancient hag named Gagool is his chief advisor. She roots out any potential opposition by ordering regular witch hunts and murdering without trial all those identified as traitors. When she singles out Umbopa for this fate, it takes all Quatermain's skill to save his life.

Gagool, it appears, has already sensed what Umbopa soon after reveals: he is Ignosi, the rightful king of the Kukuanas. A rebellion breaks out, the Englishmen gaining support for Ignosi by taking advantage of their foreknowledge of a lunar eclipse to claim that they will black out the moon as proof of Ignosi's claim. The Englishmen join Ignosi's army in a furious battle. Although outnumbered, the rebels overthrow Twala, and Sir Henry lops off his head in a duel.

The Englishmen also capture Gagool, who reluctantly leads them to King Solomon's Mines. She shows them a treasure room inside a mountain, carved deep within the living rock and full of gold, diamonds and ivory. She then treacherously sneaks out while they are admiring the hoard and triggers a secret mechanism that closes the mine's vast stone door. Unfortunately for Gagool, a brief scuffle with a beautiful native named Foulata—who had become attached to Good after nursing him through his injuries sustained in the battle—causes her to be crushed under the stone door, though not before fatally stabbing Foulata. Their scant store of food and water rapidly dwindling, the trapped men prepare to die also. After a few despairing days sealed in the dark chamber, they find an escape route, bringing with them a few pocketfuls of diamonds from the immense trove, enough to make them rich.

The Englishmen bid farewell to a sorrowful Ignosi and return to the desert, assuring him that they value his friendship but must return to be with their own people, Ignosi in return promising them that they will be venerated and honoured among his people forever. Taking a different route, they find Sir Henry's brother stranded in an oasis by a broken leg, unable to go forward or back. They return to Durban and eventually to England, wealthy enough to live comfortable lives.

This novel was published in September 1885. 

When i finished the book, it dawned on me that the old man got the name, Sir Henry Curtis from the story. And I believe King Solomon's Mines was used during his secondary school days. That is really a long time ago.

Telephone Conversation

    Telephone Conversation by
                Wole Soyinka 

            The price seemed reasonable, location 

            Indifferent. The landlady swore she lived 

            Off premises. Nothing remained 

            But self-confession. “Madam,” I warned, 

5      “I hate a wasted journey—I am African.” 

            Silence. Silenced transmission of            

           Pressurized good-breeding. Voice, when it came, 

            Lipstick coated, long gold-rolled 

            Cigarette-holder pipped. Caught I was, foully. 

         “HOW DARK?” . . . I had not misheard . . . “ARE YOU LIGHT 

            OR VERY DARK?” Button B. Button A. Stench 

            Of rancid breath of public hide-and-speak. 

            Red booth. Red pillar-box. Red double-tiered 

            Omnibus squelching tar. It was real! Shamed 

15         By ill-mannered silence, surrender 

            Pushed dumbfoundment to beg simplification. 

            Considerate she was, varying the emphasis— 

            “ARE YOU DARK? OR VERY LIGHT?” Revelation came. 

            “You mean—like plain or milk chocolate?” 

20         Her assent was clinical, crushing in its light 

            Impersonality. Rapidly, wavelength adjusted, 

            I chose. “West African sepia”—and as an afterthought, 

            “Down in my passport.” Silence for spectroscopic 

            Flight of fancy, till truthfulness clanged her accent 

25         Hard on the mouthpiece. “WHAT’S THAT?” conceding, 

            “DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT IS.” “Like brunette.” 

            “THAT’S DARK, ISN’T IT?” “Not altogether. 

            Facially, I am brunette, but madam, you should see 

            The rest of me. Palm of my hand, soles of my feet 

30         Are a peroxide blonde. Friction, caused— 

            Foolishly, madam—by sitting down, has turned 

            My bottom raven black—One moment madam!”—sensing 

            Her receiver rearing on the thunderclap 

            About my ears—“Madam,” I pleaded, “wouldn’t you rather 

35         See for yourself?”

Analysis

Written in first person narrative, summary of Telephone conversation by Wole Soyinka draws upon an unseen picture of humanity where it projects the innate difference that resides between individuals. Depicted through the conversation of a white lady and an African man, the poem is a mighty comment on racism coupled with prejudices that still exist like a millstone. The idea of Telephone conversation is how human beings are inclined to focus and sort out issues that are based on individual differences which seldom give us a chance to look into our souls and determine where and how far we have deteriorated within us.

Abiku - Again?

I know you guys might be wondering, why Abiku again? Your last post was Abiku and now another Abiku? Eh! Just relax, I can explain. Well you see, there are two poems with the tittle, Abiku. One was written by Wole Soyinka and the other one by John Pepper Clark. Although the two poems may have the same title and themes, however, if we study with concentrated attention and careful juxtaposition, we will understand the striking features that differentiates them. Below is J.P. Clark's Abiku.

John Pepper Clark

Abiku (J.P. Clark)

Coming and going these several season,
Do stay on the baobab tree,
Follow where you please your kindred spirits
If indoors is not enough for you.
True, it leaks through the thatch 
When flood brim the banks,
And the bats and the owls
Often tear in at night through the eaves,
And at harmattan, the bamboo walls
Are ready tinder for the fire 
That dries the fresh fish up in the rack.
Still, it's been the healthy stock
To several fingers, to many more will be 
Who reach to the sun.
No longer then bestride the threshold
But step in and stay 
For good. We know the knife-scars
Serrating down your back and front 
Like the beak of the swordfish.
And both your ears,notched
As a bondsman to his house,
Are all relics of your first comings
Then step in,step in and stay
For her body is tired,
Tired, her milk going sour 
Where many more mouth gladden the heart.

Note: Some Africans believe that Abiku is an evil child that torment the parents with 

perpetual birth and death,and it always rejoices at the effectual outcome of the anguish.

Analysis

If we read through the two poems aloud, we will understand the differences in the tone and the attitude of the poems. While they share the same themes like the torments of Abiku and the bitter experience to the parents, the first poem (Soyinka's) is presented in the First Person, the abiku, making statements about itself. While Pepper Clark presented his as an observer. Soyinka's Abiku is boastful and happy to see the anguish of its parents, while Clark's is a plea to the child to stay. The subjects and the tones, apart from the title and parallel themes, are obviously different.

Abiku

Abiku - written by Wole Soyinka In vain your bangles cast Charmed circles at my feet I am Abiku, calling for the first And repeated time. Must I weep for goats and cowries For palm oil and sprinkled ask? Yams do not sprout amulets To earth Abiku's limbs. So when the snail is burnt in his shell, Whet the heated fragment, brand me Deeply on the breast - you must know him When Abiku calls again. I am the squirrel teeth, cracked The riddle of the palm; remember This, and dig me deeper still into The god's swollen foot. Once and the repeated time, ageless Though I puke, and when you pour Libations, each finger points me near The way I came, where The ground is wet with mourning White dew suckles flesh-birds Evening befriends the spider, trapping Flies in wine-froth; Night, and Abiku sucks the oil From lamps. Mothers! I'll be the Suppliant snake coiled on the doorstep Yours the killing cry. The ripest fruit was saddest Where I crept, the warmth was cloying. In silence of webs, Abiku moans, shaping Mounds from the yolk.  Analysis In the poem Abiku, the poet personifies Abiku as himself, the spiritual problem child who would always come back to torment his mother, the Nigerian government. Soyinka in that poem made it clear that he would always be around to criticize the Nigerian government and since Abiku he has been around to voice out his opinion on national issues, to engage those who want to ruin the country in war of words and much more.