eke na egwurugwu

The Semiotics of the Sacred Space in Indigenous Igbo Thought

2012-01-09T07:10:00.000-08:00

by

Obododimma Oha

Exploring the signs and processes of signification associated with sacredness in the indigenous Igbo society is particularly urgent at a time that Christian Pentecostalism has almost succeeded in its campaign against indigenous igbo religious systems. Radical Christian Pentecostalism encourages Christian converts to destroy cultural objects, especially those that are associated with traditional religion, or those that are held sacred in Igbo culture. These converts are told that these objects are abodes of evil forces, and that keeping them means habouring Satan and allowing him to operate in their lives. In the name of breaking ancient covenants with Satan, Igbo Christians are asked to destroy their Ofo (that ancient symbol of authority and presence of the ancestors), burn their Ikenga, wipe out shrines with all the objects in them, kill animals regarded as totems of the supernatural in their local communities. With this, shrines have been raided and sacked, prolonged conflicts have erupted in families and communities over the keeping of objects traditionally considered sacred; in fact, the destruction has become so extensive that scholars working on Igbo culture and religion would now find it difficult to access cultural objects and sites in Igbo communities that are related to their investigations. The present essay is intended to provoke serious reflection on the idea of the sacred space in Igbo thought, particularly the signifying practices that go with it.

The allocation, preservation, representation, and reading of spaces are very significant cultural practices. These various dimensions, in many cases, are interwoven, As spaces are allocated or claimed, they are also represented and preserved. One could, indeed, argue that it the very act of representation that ensures the differentiation of spaces, as well as facilitates their preservation. Thus, a semiotic function is already involved in the creation and preservation of a space. Further, one finds that there is an ideological basis for the creation, representation, and preservation of spaces. The representation of a space as sacred, which, working with a given set of values, presupposes the non-sacredness of other spaces outside that particular space, invites a cognitive use of signs. And the signs, in this case, may not be universal in outlook; they may be just typical of the particular context of culture, which means that outsiders are in danger of violating a sacred space if they lack knowledge of the local cultural interpretations of those signs.

A sign that marks a space as sacred could be read as:
(1) A warning – against intrusion and violation,
(2) A reminder – about the existence of that space in that location
A signification of the sacredness of space is always an interpellation that calls the viewer to order. There is no need for a written signpost announcing, “Beware, you are approaching a sacred space!” In fact, written (or even spoken) language is grossly inappropriate in conveying the awe required in representing the sacred space. Silent visual communication such as the marking of the given space carries enormous impact, in spite of the fact that the meaning of the sign may be elusive to outsiders of the culture, or may be different in their own culture.

The Igbo equivalent of the English word "sacred" is "nso," which also refers means "holy." Well, one could say that this convergence in the Igbo semiotic space is not really very problematic because, conceptually, what is represented as sacred is also considered holy, even though both words do not mean exactly the same thing in English. Objects considered sacred in Igbo thought entail restrictions such as who could handle them, how they could be handled, and when they could be handled. They don't have to be holy or unholy.

There is however a meeting point between holiness and sacredness in Igbo thought. The custodians of sacred objects and spaces have to be holy people in the culture, and for them to remain holy, they must abstain from certain things. An unholy person is not allowed handle or keep sacred things, for such handling would amount to imeru ihe or violating the sacredness of something. It is along this line of thinking that custodians of powerful charms, sacred objects like the Ofo and Ikenga, aa well as shrines are expected to continually purify themselves before touching those sacred objects, or for them to remain worthy of keeping them. It is believed that touching them in a state of uncleanliness or unholiness would not just amount to violating their sacredness but also incurring supernatural wrath.

Sacred space in Igbo thought is referred to as ebe di nso in some Igbo communities and is usually symbolized with the omu nkwu, tender palm fronds, tied around to demarcate such space. There is an assumption that every member of the culture understands the language of the omu nkwu and would therefore respect the space as sacred. In other words, its use recalls a cultural semiotic competence which members of the culture are required to possess. Cultural outsiders may be excused for their ignorance of what the omu nkwu signifies, but not insiders.

Sacred spaces in Igbo communities may be specifically designated with the term "ihu," as in ihummuo (shrine, or more appropriately "the presence of the spirits"), ihuarusi (the presence or shrine of a god/goddess), ihu aro (the space for igu aro ritual feast), ihu Atamiri (the presence or shrine of Atamiri), ihu Asaa (the space or presence for mask performance).

In a very special sense, some Igbo market days, which are associated with some spiritual powers, occupy a sacred space, not only in terms of the physical locations where some rituals are performed (for instance, ihu Eke), but in terms of the period or time in the Igbo market calendar. Eke Nta (literally, "Small Eke") and Orie Nta ("Small Orie") are sacred days in my own Uli community. Farm work is forbidden in the community on those days, which are referred to as ubochi nso oru ("sacred/holy days on which work is forbidden"). In other words, a "location" in time is considered a sacred space, an interesting coalescence and Time and Space, i.e. Time as also Space.

An individual or group can also mark off a place that is in dispute as sacred by tying the omu nkwu around it or on some trees in that environment, an symbolic act referred to as ituchi oru or ituchi ala ("closing or cordoning off a piece of land"). By tying the omu nkwu, the individual or group is signifying that the space in dispute has been handed over to the supernatural -- specifically to the gods, goddesses, and ancestors, for custody, and until the dispute is resolved, nobody is allowed to enter that space. It is considered an abomination in the Igbo culture to cut or remove the omu nkwu that is tied around the disputed space or object. In removing the omu nkwu prior to the resolution of the dispute, one is challenging the supernatural custodians to a bout, as well as insulting the tradition of the community. Usually, such an account attracts a heavy punishment, to assuage the anger of the supernatural and restore harmony between the human and the spiritual. Until the offender does what is required for the restoration of this harmony, he or she symbolically remains outside community.

Violating the sacred space amounts to committing an abomination, an alu, which calls for severe penalties. But the main issue however is the performance of certain rituals to restore the sacredness.

I observed earlier that sacred spaces are maintained by individuals who are considered holy, or who are required to maintain holiness. The ezemmuo or high priest oversees the sacred space of the shrine; the ukwu mmuo or okpa dugbedugbe (the guide of the masked spirit) oversees the ukpo mmanwu to make sure that only masked spirits and initiates of the masquerade cult come near it; a sacred space may also be created by an ezemmuo or a dibia outside the location of the shrine, to attend to some spiritual matters.

A sacred space need not be fixed or permanent. It could be temporary or mobile, as for instance when the fireplace where food is being prepared for an ozo-titled man is cordoned off with omu nkwu in ancient Igbo tradition and women who still menstruate are not allowed to go near. Only women in menopause could enter that sacred space and cook the food. This type of cooking in a sacred space is referred to as nri ntubido (ntubido in this case pointing to the act of using omu nkwu to cordon off the fireplace). After preparing the food, the omu nkwu is removed and the fireplace restored to a normal environment where holy and unholy individuals can go.

Nri ntubido brings up gender politics as an important aspect of the semiotics of the sacred space in the Igbo context. The question is: why are menstruating women considered unholy and therefore unqualified to go near the sacred space demarcated for the preparation of food for ozo-titled men? Why are men also not so restrained? The prohibition of menstruating women from going into the sacred space is based on the ancient misconception of menstruation as illness. In this case, "illness" implies some uncleanliness.

The sacred space in the case of nri ntubido is somewhat gendered; it is a space dominated and controlled by the male. The woman, through her biology, is considered a threat to that space, which raises the whole issue about the need for us not to ignore the politics that defines what and who defines a space as sacred. Are sacred spaces neutral to the politics of otherness? Or are such spaces means through the politics of otherness is continued? Quite clearly, gender-based restrictions in nri ntubido are located in the binary logic of differentiation which surfaces in other aspects of culture. Some of those binaries characterize men as rational, courageous, dependable, holy, good, etc and women as irrational, cowardly, unreliable, unholy, evil, etc.

The ukpo mmanwu, the platform where masked spirits stand in the asaa or masquerade square, and the shrine are examples of permanent spaces in Igbo tradition. They are usually adorned with omu nkwu, to denote their difference from other spaces, a feature that makers of Nollywood movies that focus on indigenous Igbo culture have noted and captured in many of their movies.

Edward T. Hall tells us in The Silent Language that “space speaks.” One might then ask, “what does the sacred space speak or try to say?” Jane Hope tries to answer that question in The Secret Language of the Soul. In a section on “sacred space,” Hope argues that “A sacred place requires a clear spiritual focus and separation from its physical surroundings” and as such, “The architecture of sacred buildings must attempt to capture the divine presence and reveal it to the worshipper, together with the recognition that a transcendent deity is infinitely greater than any physical site” (1997:54). The function of signs in the sacred space thus is not just about marking off such a space and helping to preserve respect for its sacredness. It also extends to creating a sense of awe and feeling about a spiritual presence. Symbolic items placed around or within that physical space are, in line with Jane Hope’s argument media for connecting the worshipper with another a divine force. That is to say then that the physical space designated sacred is merely a signifier of the ideal sacred space of the supernatural existing both at a higher realm and in the inner being of the worshiper. Connecting with these spaces of divine order is fundamental in the ideal communication with the supernatural entity being worshiped, and with the divine space (Heaven, Paradise,Alammuo/Ekemmuo, etc) from which such supernatural force operates.

The fact that human beings are naturally territorial, as observed in reputable works on space and spatiality such as Edward T. Hall’s The Silent Language and The Hidden Dimension, as well as Robert Ardrey’s The Territorial Imperative, means that human religious systems spaces would also be reserved for supernatural presences related to such religious systems. Human beings would have to fight to protect such spaces on behalf of the supernatural, as a way of suggesting that they are subjects as well as instruments of the supernatural. For this reason, adherents of traditional Igbo religion fought to protect their shrines from invading Christian armies. Also, adherents of one religion would want to embark on an aggressive campaign to displace other deities from their assigned spaces in another religion. It is particularly amazing that Igbo Christian converts would want to desecrate the ubochi nso oru of their local communities but at the same time hold on to the belief that it is a sin to work on a Sunday, a day which they have been told is the same as the Jewish Sabbath, which Jevohah, according to the Mosaic Law, instituted as a sacred day forbidding manual labour. As I have observed in another essay titled "A Letter from the Man on the Moon", there are even myths created to consolidate the observance of Sunday as a work-free day. God gets angry with a man who has gone to split firewood on a Sunday and causes the axe the man is using to cut his foot. God's anger is not yet assuaged: the Almighty sends the man on an exile to the face of the moon. For the new Igbo Christian convert therefore, the man on the moon signifies God's warning to those who would dare to desecrate the Christian day of worship again! The Jewish Sabbath is thus reinvented and supported with folklore to function more convincingly in the context of an emergent African Christianity. One may even find in some cases that God in one group is made to fight God in another group, under a different onomastic signification.

Just as sacred objects are threatened by Christian Pentecostalism, sacred spaces are also in serious danger in many Igbo communities. Shrines of Igbo traditional religion, right from the early days of Christianity in Igboland, have been seriously threatened with extinction, same for sacred forests. The case of the crisis over Ogwugwu shrines in Okija, Anambra State, Nigeria is noteworthy. Whereas sacred spaces like the Osun Osogbo are preserved and recognized by UNESCO as World Heritage Sites, sacred spaces like those of Ogwugwu are demonized and officially violated by the law enforcement in Nigeria as sites of criminality. Whereas Osun Osogbo has grown into a vibrant tourist site and a consolidation of global visibility for the Yoruba culture, the Ogwugwu of Okija is turned into a pejorative term, which also smears both the local Igbo community and indeed the entire igbo culture as being associated with barbarism and backwardness. One doubts whether igbo people ever consider the cultural politics underlying the wave of media representation of Ogwugwu sacred space in modern times and that what is happening is indeed a culture war in which Igbo people are used in destroying their own ethnic image.

On the Canvas of My Mother's Mbaraezi

2012-01-08T02:27:00.000-08:00

by

Obododimma Oha

My mother's Mbaraezi (or simply ezi) -- the physical space and symbol of her being entitled to the resources of the larger family, indeed a territory allocated to her to sweep and maintain on daily basis -- that provided the initial geography for my development as a child. Every child grew up in an ezi and this ezi was one major force that shaped the child's life, relationship with other people, both those of the ime ezi (the insiders of the ezi) and those of the other ezi. Ezi nne m, my mother's ezi, was the first territory I explored as a crawling baby, sometimes eating sand, sometimes mixing the sand with my urine and tasting it, before the elderly ones noticed and ran to remove me from what they considered a child's foolish thinking that everything is for the mouth. But they didn't know that by tasting the sands of the ezi, I become one with my mother's ezi, a communion only the grannies understood -- maybe because their old age placed them very close to the borders of the human and spirit worlds. And later when I advanced in childhood, I turned the Mbaraezi to a canvas of my art studio. With a stick I traced the outlines of many objects on that canvas, making sure no invader destroyed my art. Indeed, I mounted guard, or made sure I had an eye on my artwork, if I had other tasks on my hand. That way, my Mbaraezi artworks stayed for some hours, even days, except it rained and they got wiped out. But even the rain provided another cleaner canvas and desire for me to "draw." And I drew and drew and drew, until I almost covered the entire ezi with my unique art.

From the drawing of single objects, I moved on to the drawing of longer narratives -- I told stories in a set of connected diagrams. If it was not about the tortoise going to marry the King's daughter and what happened later, it was about automobiles driving on a road and how some of them collided and caused deaths, while some passengers grew wings and flew away. Sometimes it was about the Biafran anti-aircraft guns dealing with the menacing Nigerian war planes, or about Chukwuemeka Odumegwu-Ojukwu flogging Yakubu Gowon our enemy and the latter crying and begging for mercy. There were always stories to be told on the canvas of the Mbaraezi, stories from the mouths of the elders or stories we made up as children. The mbaraezi art seemed to call for more and more stories.

Mbaraezi art indeed symbolically narrates the cultural relevance of the ezi in the politics of a family and the village. How could a wife be a wife if she has no ezi and no obubo? What she sweeps from her fireplace and from her ezi she scatters in her obubo, her garden, to make it more and more fertile. She needs to make her obubo more and more fertile as she makes other things fertile in the household, including the fertility of the mind that scribbles and sketches on her ezi.

As I grew older, I understood that the ezi on which I scribbled and sketched was not just the symbol of my mother's space in the household but indeed my mother's presence. She was the presence of my childhood art. She was its vitality, its becoming, its potentials that were renewed day after day as I scribbled and sketched.

Yes, the poor standing of the family's finances and lack of full access to modernity meant that we, the children growing up, did not have the luxury of sheets of paper, pens and pencils, not to talk of real drawing boards and canvasses. The stationery we had were exclusively reserved for formal school work and could not have been squandered on what was then considered by the adults as part of the foolishness we needed to enjoy as children. As children, we were free to imagine such sketches on the ezi and other odds and ends we gathered as our property, but if we grew older, we would understand that there are other art forms, other forms of wealth that mattered, and put away our childish possessions. That was the logic. No one really took our mbaraezi art seriously. No one saw our childhood art as our science. Every adult saw what we were doing in the sands as imu umunwa, roughly translated as "learning the thrill that occupies a child's mind."

There is something about children's enjoyment of the space of the ezi in the context of their development that parents of today need to understand. Provide adequate drawing materials to children but imprison them in their rooms or in the sitting room and the urge to use a wide space would still push them to scribble and draw on the walls, the chairs, clothes, and so on. Don't keep scolding them, saying this and that psychologist told you such "defacing" is a disorder from which you have to deliver the child. You and your psychologist are joking! The child needs the ezi, not just the modern stationery, even if that ezi is a different kind of space where the child can move around and develop narrative imagination on paper and other physical objects. Is it not interesting that a child sees art in every object or thinks that every object should be a medium for artistic expression?

Indeed, not many people take interest in observing children at work or try to understand how an intimacy develops between the space of the child's work and the exploring mind of the child. I could not have found intimacy with my mother's ezi on any drawing paper or board offered to me as a child artist. As I found an intimacy with my mother's ezi, I found an intimacy with my mother as a source and context of my creativity. Indeed, as an adult, I still have that maternal canvas on my mind and recognize its tremendous narrative powers.

100 THOUSAND POETS FOR CHANGE: An Anthology

2011-03-29T01:32:00.000-07:00

(Ed. Anny Ballardini & Obododimma Oha, in collaboration with MICHAEL ROTHENBERG)

"We will turn to the idea of the messianic in Chapter Ten of this book, but for the moment it suffices to stress that both Benjamin and Agamben employ the term in singular fashion. For them, a messianic idea of history is not one in which we wait for the Messiah to come, end history, and redeem humanity, but instead is a paradigm for historical time in which we act as though the Messiah is already here, or even has already come and gone. What is so difficult about Agamben's use of the term messianic is how radically it is to be distinguished from the apocalyptic. Agamben says that to understand "messianic time" as it is presented in Paul's letters "one must first distinguish messianic time from apocalyptic time, the time of the now from a time directed towards the future" (LAM, 51). To this he adds, "If l had to try to reduce the distinction to a formula, I would say that the messianic is not, as it is always understood, the end of time, but the time of the end" (LAM, 51). The model of time corresponding to this idea is one that no longer looks for its decisive moment in a more or less remote future, but instead finds it in every minute of every day, in this world and in this life; and it is through such expressions as "dialectics at a standstill" and "means without end" that the two thinkers aim to return our gaze from the distant future to the pressing present."
(from GIORGIO AGAMBEN: A Critical Introduction, Leland de la Durantaye, 2009, p. 120)

Set in the context of this split between "the end of time" and "the time of the end" is Michael Rothenberg's recent invitation for the global writing public to participate in "a demonstration/celebration of poetry to promote serious social and political change" titled 100 THOUSAND POETS FOR CHANGE on 24 September, 2011. As protests for political reforms sweep across North Africa, the Middle East, in some parts of Europe, in the United States, with the recent disasters in The Gulf of Mexico and in Japan, one cannot help thinking about the "Rothenberg Project” as a highly significant creative response to change as something more than an adjustment to the way social relations are constructed.

Obododimma Oha and Anny Ballardini, in collaboration with Michael Rothenberg’s event, will edit and feature outstanding poetic compositions for the 100 THOUSAND POETS FOR CHANGE on Fieralingue's Poets’ Corner. Visual artwork, poems, poetic fiction, poetic nonfiction, and photographs to be submitted for consideration should go beyond the simple and gratuitous statement that ‘a change is needed.’ Our present, our Messianic time requires a STILLSTELLUNG (Benjamin’s word) translated by Dennis Redmond in On the Concept of History (1940) with “an objective interruption of a mechanical process” into which we have been engulfed. Dennis Redmond continues in his explanation of STILLSTELLUNG: “rather like the dramatic pause at the end of an action-adventure movie, when the audience is waiting to find out if the time-bomb/missile/terrorist device was defused or not.” We feel that we are living in a similar situation, and we are in need of a Stillstellung followed by ideas to offer our politicians, to make students/friends/our communities more aware of how we can change, revise history, start over again.

Visual works and photographs for submission are to be saved in JPEG format, while texts, which should not have rigid formatting, are to be in Word. All submissions should be emailed to the editors anny.ballardini@gmail.com and obodooha@gmail.com by September 1, 2011 with "100 THOUSAND POETS FOR CHANGE" in the Subject line.

Asaa

2010-11-21T03:49:00.000-08:00

The number, the person, the space

Asaa the assertion, also silence

Asaa the countless count
Asaa of where is here

Sevens of signs:
The Asaa of community: mmuo na mmadu
The Asaa of the struggle of signs with signs: ka i ma nke a, i ma nke ozo?
The Asaa of Initiation: mu na ndee, mu na ndee!
The Asaa of Participation: juo okwa oja
The Asaa of Submission to the Many: otu onye siere oha
The Asaa of Responsibilty: nakwa agbako
Then, the Asaa of Asaa: ezumezu!

Which lobe of kolanut speaks
On behalf of?
Which is which in each Asaa?

-- Obododimma Oha

Ubi Onye

2010-10-11T11:36:00.000-07:00

ọ na-amasị m ma m teta ụra n’ụtụtụ
Ka dimkpa nọ n’ime m tetakwa
Kwapụta ụkpa, kwapụta nkata
Wepụta mma, wepụta ọgụ

ọ na-amasị m ma m teta n’ụtụtụ
Hụ okoko ọhịa m ga-asụ
N’ala gbara uru
Na-eche afụrụ na ụda nsonye ihe

ọ na-agụ m agụụ ịhụ ka ubi siri dị ime
Mechaa mụọ kuru
Ndi rụrụnụ bụrụkwa ndi ririnụ
Aka ajaaja bụrụkwa ọnụ mmanụ mmanụ

--- Obododịmma ọha

Ndiigbo Agbọ ọhụrụ

2010-10-11T11:30:00.000-07:00

Ị na-akụrụ ha ara nne ha
Ha ana-amị akpụ
Ị na-ata agba ha n’obi
Ha ana-ata agbakpọsị gị anya

Ndi ụlọ ha na-agba ọkụ
Ha na-achụ oke
Ndi na-ekpu ụlọ ndi ọzọ
Mgbe nke ha na-ehi mmiri

Ndiigbo adụgbolịja
Ndiigbo n’egburugbe ọnụ
Ndi na-etiri uwe Awụsa
Na-eti, “Igbo kwenu!”

Ndi na-aza aha Igbo
Ma ha amaghị asụ mọọbụ nụ Igbo
Ndi anya ha tọrọ n’ụzọ
Ndi furula efu akwụkwọ njụ jụrụ

--- Obododịmma Oha

ụlọmkpe Okigbo

2010-07-18T00:29:00.000-07:00

Mgbịrịgba na-akpọ, na-akpọbata
O dere jụụ
Mmụọ na mmadụ na-erikọ
Mmadụ ga-abanye na mmụọ
Mmụọ ga-abanye n’ime mmadụ
Ebe a, n’agịga ọdịniihu

Mgbịrịgba, di ka oge ngabịga
Mmadụ na mmadụ na mmụọ na-erikọ
Mmụọ na mmụọ na dike na-erikọ
N’ebe a, n’ụlọmkpe Biafra, ụlọ mmụgharị

Mmadụ ga-abanye n’uchichi nke mmụọ
Mmụọ ga-apụta n’ehihie nke mmụgharị

Mgbịrịgba! Cheta nzọụkwụ m
N’agịga nke a na nke a na nke a
N’ụlọ ọnwụ bụ ndụ ebeebe

--- Obododimma Oha

Dibịa ụlọ

2010-04-05T08:52:00.000-07:00

By

Obododimma Oha

Dibịa ụlọ, physician of the home. He reads the pulse of the home; understands what ails the home; heals the home. In him is the fullness of nwokeness: industry, resourcefulness, courage, sacrificial love.

From the panopticon of his obi, he watches over the home. Even the spirits think twice before entering his homespace, but must be ready to wrestle with him and his ikenga first. Dibịa ụlọ stands upon the trust of Ala and the ancestors, confident and daring to eat fire, vomit fire, extinguish fire.

The Igbo have invested in him the highest values to stay the family.

These days that some men would want to marry and not be ready to become husbands, and women too not ready to become wives, I look at Dibịa ụlọ and he looks back at me with reassurance, saying “Gaa n’ihu; O nweghị ihe na-eme!” And so, I move on, not trembling, for nothing can stop the spirit of the Great Spirit.

In him, you can find her: he is really female, discerning, caring, protective, domestic. He is home, at home. He, the domestic, stays the home when the violent winds rise against it.

He, the dread of ụmụnnadị, is the space of the future unwilling to eclipse too soon.

Dibịa ụlọ, the physician of the home. He, the metaphor of hope in being for the other. He, already the success of a nation in its crib.
He is the nation of the home, the home that nations.

In the night of nationhood, Dibịa ụlọ stays awake so that other members of the family can sleep. Dibịa ụlọ gives his life so that the family can survive. Dibịa ụlọ wears the crown of thorns, carries the cross, goes down to Ekemmụọ and resurrects as an idea that will never die again in the heart of the nation-home.

A Tale of Two Bloodlines

2010-03-07T14:56:00.000-08:00

By

Obododimma Oha

A growing child in my Igbo culture must learn to live in two communities as if they were one. There is the community of the Father and there is the community of the Mother, or simply “Father’s kinsfolk” and “Mother’s kinsfolk”. The two communities – two domains of consciousness -- converse and sometimes compete over the ownership of one’s mind. You are growing up in the pride of Mkpu Nna Gi (your Father’s community) populated by the Umunna (kinsmen) and so you owe allegiance to it. But Ikwunne (Mother’s kinsfolk or literally, the Relatives of the Mother) never fails to remind you that you are that sucker of the plantain tree that was borrowed sometime ago by a man from Mkpu Nna Gi. Ikwunne reminds Umunna Gi also that it owes tributes, regular tributes, for the luck of growing the Self within the fertility of the M/Other.

Umunna tells you to drink the fire, not just bask beside it. Umunna tells you: you cannot be you until you till, or have unless you harvest, and cannot harvest unless you invest. Umunna tells you: no one becomes a man or woman on behalf of another.

Umunna, too, could become Umunnadi, with an eye on your flourishing pride. Umunna is competition and so could become apparently hostile sometimes. With Umunna, the boundaries are rigid, your freedom limited to the rank of your inheritance, which you can lose if you cannot learn to spit fires.

Ikwunne is not about competition.

Among the Ikwunne, your freedom gathers speed.

Among the Ikwunne, you experience love immeasurable. Ikwunne can spoil you in order to inscribe its affection in your heart. Ikwunne can spoil you, enough for you to understand love as the place of the Mother. Ikwunne can spoil you in order to repair you.

Among the Ikwunne, you learn about origin.

Ikwunne tells you: You own everything as the seed of Nwaada and can take anything unmolested. You can harvest the maize, as much as you like. You can pluck the fruits, as much as you can carry. You can cut the meat, provided you have the teeth. You can tell that coconut tree that you have the climbing skill and it would be thrilled. You can enter that kitchen without asking for permission and eat your fill. Ikwunne tells you: this is your home, the place of the Mother.

Nwadiala! Nwadiala! here. Nwadiala! there. And you float in the communion of hearts. You know intoxication in the feelings drizzling from abundant welcome.

Ikwunne hails you, playing an ancient tune in that single word that is a phrase that is a sentence that is a text that is discourse that is human.

Ikwunne would not condone your misdeeds, but can never abandon you, for it remains your security.

When Umunna blows hot, plays nwannadi -- becoming Umunnadi -- and seeks your erasure – as it sometimes happens – Ikwunne waits for you with open arms. The place of the Mother is the place -- a home forever! You cannot run past this home when they are pursuing you, in dream or real life. To do so is to be hopeless, to be totally vulnerable, to be finished. The Umunnadi cannot pursue you to the place of the Mother and harm you. There are hallowed borders even as the streams of relationship flow into each other.

Ikwunne is the beginning that never ends. Even as Umunna is one of the undying noises in your blood.

CONTEXT: Journal of Social & Cultural Studies, Vol. !2, No. 2, December 2009, now available!

2010-01-02T02:30:00.004-08:00

Volume 12, Number 2, December 2009 issue of CONTEXT: Journal of Social & Cultural Studies (ISSN 1119 -- 9229) is now available!

Articles published in this issue include:

Symbolism in Ogoni Traditional Church Songs
-- Barine Saana Ngaage
The Practice of Specialized Translation
-- Elisabeth De Campos
"Abatease;" or Book Review as the Eighth Wonder of Fiction
-- Obiwu
Once My Heart Was Wide and Loved the World
-- Bobbi Lurie

Submissions to the next issue, Volume 13, Number 1, March 2010 are welcome. All submissions should be sent by email to Obododimma Oha , , . For more information on the journal, visit:

Mmanwu Uli Animates Ibadanland

2009-12-01T14:51:00.000-08:00

by

Obododimma Oha

Eke Ukwu 29 November 2009 was Anambra State Day in Ibadan, Oyo State. The celebration which took place at the Cultural Centre, Mokola, Ibadan,on the mandate of Anambra State Forum in Oyo State, witnessed many cultural performances by members of the various Anambra State town unions based in Ibadan. The ancestors were also there, travelling several thousands of miles from the land of the spirits. Emerging from ant holes and dripping with ancient songs and proverbs,Anagharakpo and Ekwusike -- two celebrated okorommuo from Uli --took the ogbo and turned the premises of the Ibadan Cultural Centre to a very lively asaa. The two masked spirits literally became the centre of the celebration that was intended as a fund-raising occasion.They sang, they danced, and sang their dance, the poetry of their spirit bodies casting a spell on the audience that seemed to keep growing every minute. The two okorommuo seemed to have been sent by the spirit world to provide the much-needed rousing for the inhabitants of this city at a time that daily life in Nigeria had almost become empty and punishing. Below are some of the photographs of the two masked spirits entertaining and bringing back life into human experience.

Surely, the ancestors are not inhibited by the boundaries of time and place. Their spirit bodies as transforming texts remain unknowable, unreadable, yet remaining the animation of the spirit of community in a postcolonial African world.

Onye ọchịchị

2009-10-03T10:46:00.000-07:00

Onye ọchịchị sị:

Kwa ụnụ chọrọ
Ka m nye ụnụ ọkụ;
Ngwa, ọkụ gbaa ụnụ.
ọkwa ụnụ chọrọ mmiri;
Mmiri maa ụnụ.
Kwa ụnụ chọrọ okporoụzọ dị mma;
Ngwanụ, tọnụ n’ụzọ.

Onye ọchịchịrị, nnannaa ha werekwa gị!

--- Obododimma Oha

HEALTH & ILLNESS

2009-09-29T05:17:00.000-07:00

"Until now I always felt a stranger in this town, and that I'd no concern with you people. But now that I've seen what I have seen, I know that I belong here whether I want it or not. This business is everybody's business."
from The Plague by Albert Camus

(Poetic Works on Health & Illness in Human Experience)

The body as a text or network of texts - as a sign, a signified or a signifier, as a myth - articulated and performed by the self , the I, or by instinct, and read variously by the other, the I, the we, the subject, or the object, achieves complexity especially when set in illness and health narratives. The languages of the body in such contexts, as configured in cultural works, especially through a poetic insight, would be undoubtedly useful in trying to understand how health related to the vegetal, animal or human world is art and/or science, or how possible contaminations between science and art can transfer to scientific art, or artistic science by considering psychology and sociology as sciences of the behavior respectively of the single and of the many, religion and philosophy as sciences of the mind or of the metaphysical, medicine and biology as manifest sciences of the body.

Poetic works that feature, interrogate, or probe health/illness representations in culture and society are hereby invited for publication on the Poets’ Corner. The editors, Obododimma Oha and Anny Ballardini, are particularly interested in artwork that presents illness and health in unusual but inspiring modes with the aim of shedding light on the nature of both. Unusual and intuitive readings should become tools to dismantle the spiraling maelstrom of malady or to forge a consciousness to enlighten the human being in the acceptance of what is if and whenever change or improvement is impossible. Poetry should rise to the height of medical science as an assistant, an advisor, or as the healer, be it at a physical or metaphysical level.

Welcome are works that seek to present poetic languages of the mentally challenged, the aphasic, the traumatized, the schizophrenic, as well as any kind of disease, be it infectious like AIDS, or “generational” like cancer, be it connected with what is usually seen as a seasonal minor collapse like viral influenza, or with accidents that change the lives of the victims.

The present contextualization could broaden to include the idea of a nation as a single community, a constitutional body characterized by illnesses or healthy states. It could also visualize, and still not be limited to, various economic systems with their dangerous trends/breaths sweeping away hopes or bringing in new ambitious projects, be them healthy or ill. The same history of art or literary criticism could be reviewed under the lens of variables that determine the health or the illness of the category.

Visual artwork, poems, poetic fiction, poetic nonfiction, and photographs to be submitted for consideration should go beyond the traditional mimetic to narrate distortions, out-of-the-body experiences, virtual thrills and/or gratuitous hallucinations.
Visual works and photographs are to be saved in JPEG format; texts, which should not have rigid formatting, in Word.

All submissions should be emailed to the editors anny.ballardini@gmail.com and obodooha@gmail.com by December 1, 2009 with "Health & Illness" in the Subject line.

Ekwe a na-amara nsogbu

2009-07-18T13:16:00.000-07:00

by

Obododimma Oha

Ekwentị ekweghị ntị
nụrụ ihe
ụtụtụ, ehihie, uchichi
nke ka nke, a kpọọ a pịnyụọ
nke ka iwe, a kpọọ a jụba onye a kpọrọ:
onye na-aza m?

Ekwentị, ozi bụ ọnya
e kwere tọọ ute na Naijiria:
ụfọdụ sị na ha bụ enyi nọ ala bekee akpọ
ma ha nọ n’azụụlọ enyo anya
ihe ha ga-ezute,
I zitere m nke a, I buru akụnụụba nke a!

Ekwe a na-akụrụ nsogbu
ka o bilie tagbuo
ekweghị ekwe hụta ute ekwere
mgbe ahụ ntị anụrụ ihe, ọnụ ezuru ike

Ekwentị ekweghị ntị
nụrụ ihe
n’obodo mkpọtụ,
ebe iche echiche dị oke ọnụ
obodo mkpagbu
ebe azụ na-elo ibe ya, wee buo

Ekwentị kwenụ ntị
nụrụ ihe n’ime ọgbakọ
kwenụ uche tụlee ihe a na-eme
kwenụ obodo anyị so mba ndi ọzọ
zaa aha n’ọgbakọ ndi a zụrụ nke ọma

ọma-ekwe ntị
ọ bụ na ị maghị ka e si ama,
ka ọ bụ na ekwe na-amazi gị?
e mee elu, a kpọba ntị
e mee ala, a kpọba ntị
ọ bụ naanị ntị ka Bekee tụụrụ ekwe a?

A Novellist with Ofo in His Hand

2009-06-25T12:18:00.000-07:00

By
Obododimma Oha

Not many Nigerian creative writers are traditional rulers or are willing to accept the invitation to become traditional rulers. Perhaps this is because of what seems to be the poor image that traditional rulership in Nigeria has acquired, beginning from the colonial era to the present. Although many traditional rulers in Nigeria resisted the colonization of their domains and were either exiled or jailed, the traditional rulers that succeeded them -- especially the warrant chiefs -- turned out to be tyrants who principally served the interests of the British colonial government that installed them. In recent times too, traditional rulership seems to have slid into infamy as many traditional rulers are known to have colluded with military dictators and corrupt politicians to abort justice in Nigerian political life and to victimize social critics, including radical literary artists.

Moreover, the selection process and installation of the traditional ruler in Nigeria seem to be characterized by some unhealthy forms of politicking and corruption which generally tend to undermine the integrity of the traditional institution. The very fact the roles of the traditional ruler are not clearly defined in the contemporary democratic system in Nigeria also makes the traditional ruler somewhat redundant and lead to traditional rulers being merely seen as instruments used by the political elite and nouveau riche in the society.

Thus Nigerian literati seem to have become highly suspicious of traditional rulership and try to keep distance from it. But not all Nigerian literary artists believe that the traditional institution is obsolete, criminal, and/or unsuitable for the image of the creative writer. While some writers turn down chieftaincy nominations and prefer to remain just writers, some believe that there is something in traditional rulership that must not be allowed to perish in the changing Nigerian society, particularly in the present matrimony of political systems in Nigeria.

Vincent Chukwuemeka Ike, author of many highly recommended novels and textbooks, is one of those who are convinced that the image of traditional leadership in Africa can be cleaned up and invested with meaning once more if the enlightened individual like the creative artist accepts the challenge of mounting the throne. Chukwuemeka Ike accepted the invitation from his community to become their traditional ruler. He is currently the Eze Ikelionwu of Ndikelionwu in Anambra State of Nigeria.

His Majesty, Eze Chukwuemeka Ike, speaking at the Authors' Forum

The Ezeship of Chukwuemeka Ike was one source of lively and friendly exchange of jokes yesterday at the Kakanfo Inn, Ibadan, as Ike met with other elderly Nigerian creative writers, scholars, and publishers at the Authors’ Forum convened by University Press Plc, Ibadan, as part of its 60th Anniversary celebrations. J.P. Clark-Bekederemo, who chaired the occasion, teased His Majesty, Chukwuemeka Ike, on the discomforts he (Clark-Bekederemo) felt in addressing him in his new status, also pointing out the superfluity in referring to the traditional ruler as “His Royal Majesty” instead of simply “His Majesty”. Ike, noble-spirited as ever, received these jokes about his chieftaincy warmly, without jeopardizing the dignity normally associated with his position as a traditional ruler.

Poet J.P. Clark-Bekederemo, speaking as Chair at the Authors' Forum

With highly respected writers like Professor Chukwuemeka Ike now involved in traditional governance, one could hope for the recovery of the indigenous political system and a creative approach to African values. Ike’s emergence as a traditional ruler has introduced a change into the posture of the contemporary African writer on African politics, shifting attention from the usual cynical orientation to direct involvement and practical commitment. As a traditional ruler and novelist, Ike is now not just a teller of stories about his society, but also the story itself.

Wrestling with Amalinze

2009-06-09T08:35:00.001-07:00

By
Obododimma Oha

Chinua Achebe’s narrative about Okonkwo’s victory over Amalinze the Cat in Things Fall Apart presents an insight into indigenous Igbo philosophy on courage, industry, and leadership. It is indeed significant that Achebe’s novel begins with that narrative and links Okonkwo’s victory over Amalinze to his steady rise to prominence and growth as a leader. And just after presenting Okonkwo and how he rose to fame in his community, Achebe immediately presents the contrast that Unoka, who was a great failure, signifies. Unlike Okonkwo, Unoka was slothful and “incapable of thinking about tomorrow”. He lived to eat without working, and “always said that whenever he saw a dead man’s mouth he saw the folly of not eating what one had in one’s lifetime”. A great debtor, Unoka loved to play his flute when his fellow folk artists like Okoye worked hard on their farms and built up their wealth from which the flutist came to borrow, recorded his debts in perpendicular lines of chalk on the wall, and never paid back. I have had to reflect on this failure of Unoka elsewhere, in which I tried to link his problem to an inability to understand that being just an artist, a flutist, was not just enough to create a successful future in a community that saw art as merely part of the several skills that a human being needed to possess in order to say “yes” without his or her chi saying “no.” The present discourse briefly reflects on Achebean “wrestling” as a figuration of a courageous acceptance of challenges in one’s personal affairs as well as in one’s involvement in community life.
It is significant that Achebe, in presenting Okonkwo’s victory over Amalinze the Cat relates the fight to an earlier one in which “the founder of (the) town engaged a spirit of the wild for seven days and seven nights”. Thus Achebe gives his readers a hint about how the founding of Umuofia was based on “wrestling” at the highest level – that of wrestling with a spirit and succeeding. If the fight had ended in the spirit’s favour, there would have been no Umuofia, implicitly. Obviously this is a suggestion about how individuals in the indigenous context had to make heroic sacrifices in the interest of their communities, or how personal heroism and success support the well-being of the entire society. One wrestles for oneself, one’s family, one’s community, one’s nation, where “wrestling” is not merely the physical struggle to throw an opponent in an arena, but dealing with the challenges of life, as we find in Okonkwo’s case.
Readiness to wrestle with the challenges of life is expected of every individual in the type of Umuofia community where Unoka lived and loved to play his flute. The Igbo say that one should not challenge one’s chi to a wrestling bout. But we also find that one’s chi often challenges one to rise and wrestle with the spirit as a way of testing one to find out whether one is worthy of being invested with wealth and honour. One’s chi does not just say “yes” if one is not ready to say “yes” in practical and pragmatic terms. One’s chi would not want to lavish kindness on one who is not ready to work hard or to work one’s way up as if a spirit-helper never existed. Wrestling with one’s chi is thus approved of if it is an affirmation of the courage to be, to succeed, to give honour to one’s chi in the long run. One who refuses to work hard, as in the case of Unoka, ends up being a disgrace to self and to one’s chi, for indeed the self and the chi are inseparably one.
There is always an Amalinze the Cat on one’s road to success and on one’s road to removing shame from one’s family and community. There is always an Amalinze between one and one’s effort at bestowing honour on one’s chi. Amalinze is the test. And through that test the indigenous Igbo community identified its prospective leaders, trained them, and encouraged them.
What avenues of training were provided? Diverse: family life, mmonwu cult initiation and membership, title-taking, participation in warfare, meetings of the kinsfolk and discourses at the ilo, et cetera. One should be able to cater for one’s family. In the case of a man, he should be the dibia ulo (literally, “physician of the home”), competently catering for the emotional, spiritual, and physical needs of his family. As a member of the mmonwu cult, he learns the sacred secrets and interfaces of artistic performance, spirituality, social engineering, and governance. In title-taking, he learns the ethics and values of being mmadu onu ruru n’okwu (One whose utterances matter in community). In participating in warfare, he learns the honour of patriotism and sacrifice for one’s community. During public meetings at the ilo, he learns the art of “doing things with words with people,” as Willis Edmondson would put it in his Spoken Discourse, and recognizes the rights of other kinsfolk to speak and be listened to. He learns. He does. He learns to learn. He learns to do.
And the community watches as one navigates one’s way through these contexts of training and how one wrestles with a slippery-bodied Amalinze in every sphere of social presencing of self. As witnesses to how one wrestles with Amalinze in one’s personal and community affairs, the kinsfolk may decide to invite one to come and perform a role in governance. So, one comes to governance with the skills one has learned from diverse engagements with Amalinze in soldiery, teaching, law enforcement, engineering, etc and then begins the higher form of wrestling with Amalinze, through one’s handling of policy, public affairs, budget, social welfare, etc. Of course, one learns even more, especially the fact that one as a leader has not got all the answers, by wrestling with Amalinze in the sphere of public governance.
It is wrong to think that governance is solely for people who were created and endowed with the skills to govern! Born-to-rule, is it? Rulers who are made-in-heaven? Where does one find such gods or angels? Anyone of any profession can govern the society, provided the person has had some preparation, including readiness to wrestle with the Amalinze in every sphere of governance, and the willingness to keep learning.
Wrestling with the human Amalinze is a corollary of wrestling with life's problems, however frightening or insurmountable they might seem; it also symbolizes wrestling with problems in one's family and community -- a sort of existential wrestling a human being should be ready to engage in and not excuse self from, as Unoka tried to do! Also, every leader, as we find in Okonkwo’s case, has personal flaws, which constitute a very serious type of Amalinze in one’s personal life and relationship with society. Okonkwo defeated the human Amalinze, but failed to defeat this other Amalinze in himself. He failed to defeat the Amalinze in himself that, from a narrow male-centered framework of knowledge, derogatorily referred to other men whose views were contrary to his as “women”. He failed to defeat the Amalinze in him that acted out of the fear of failure; that wrestled in anger and not rational thinking and rational talking. That was the tragedy of his life, and it could be the tragedy of anyone and any leader anywhere.

Akwa Ndeeri (maka Adiele Afigbo)

2009-04-04T14:25:00.000-07:00

Iwe zute iku, zute anyammiri, anya mmee!
Ndeeri bụ oke bụrụ agbata,
Mbata na ọpụpụ, mgbako na mwepu;
Ka ufere sobezie nnọkwara, bụrụ anya ikpeazụ.

A sịkwa na ọnwụ ama egbu?
Ya bụ anyụike jiri gbue ngwu,
Ka iwe zute iku, zute anyammiri.

Ije, nke na-anara onye ume…

N’ihe ekwe na-ekwu, akwa dị ya.
N’ude uhie na-asụ, mwute.

Ihe ikwu na-eti:

Anyụike gburu ngwu, isi adịghị ya mma;
Anyụike gburu ngwuru akọnuuche,
Ya gbukwaa akụkọ.

Ihe ibe na-ebe:

Ederi ya n’ime ndeeri;
Elo ya n’ụkọ amamiihe;
Ndi a agaghị edina n’ili ma ọlị.

-- Obododimma Oha

Teardrops (for Adiele Afigbo)

2009-04-03T11:43:00.000-07:00

A painted toe on the unfinished tale
The tale always, weaned from the teller
Will be longer than moments sketched
By the evening

And we, held by muscles of sand, descend
Into that somewhere nowhere
Into that night with claws
Which know no laws other than exit doors

Ngwu, on this deathkiss of the reckless axe

Tell me, is History his story only his Troy
You horse in to destroy?
And didn’t the uhie ask the knavish axe
Never to nether
Or linger near the seeding poplar?

A painted toe now on the unfinished tale
Sketched on the ground where he stood, asking to be understood
Okeosisi reborn
In night runs & flights
Of feathers, proverbs, prowess
Behind a litany of finds, finders, & founding

And which uprooting a replanting?
Which agony too personal to be collective
Drips from the tongues of yellowing leaves
And fallen branches?

-- Obododimma Oha

While the He/Art Pants Live

2009-01-06T19:03:00.000-08:00

Obododimma Oha and Anny Ballardini are pleased to announce the new Anthology on the Poets’ Corner:
While the He/art Pants: Poetic Responses to the 2008 American Elections. We wish to thank all the contributors who have made it possible, and invite you to read and spread the good news.

• While the He/art Pants: (Poetic Responses to the 2008 American Elections)
• Editorial: Obododimma Oha
• Editorial: Anny Ballardini
• Edward Mycue • Jared Schickling • Bill Morgan • John M. Bennett • Conrad Reeder • Tom McBride • Gerald Schwartz • Farideh Hassanzadeh-Mostafavi • Russ Golata • Evelyn Posamentier • Gina Sangster Hayman • Matt Johnson • Susan Bright • Daniel Zimmerman • Fan Ogilvie • Henry Gould • Carol Novack • Joseph Duemer • Peter Ciccariello • Spencer Selby • Eugen Galasso • Grace Cavalieri • Amy King • Halvard Johnson • Raymond Bianchi • Lars Palm • George Spencer • Bob Grumman • Wendy Taylor Carlisle • Br. Tom Murphy • Annetta L. Gomez-Jefferson • Uzor Maxim Uzoatu • Jukka-Pekka Kervinen • David Howard • Obiwu • Afam Akeh • Jim Leftwich • Charles Martin • Luc Fierens • Eileen Tabios • Donna Pecore • Francesco Levato • Tony Trigilio • Terri Moore • Barbara Crooker • Vincent Francone • David-Baptiste Chirot • Julene Tripp Weaver • Daniela Gioseffi • Obododimma Oha • Judith Laura

• While the He/art Pants: (Poetic Responses to the 2008 American Elections)
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2664

• Editorial: Obododimma Oha
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2665

• Editorial: Anny Ballardini
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2666

• Edward Mycue
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2671

• Jared Schickling
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2672

• Bill Morgan
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2673

• John M. Bennett
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2674

• Conrad Reeder
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2675

• Tom McBride
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2676

• Gerald Schwartz
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2677

• Farideh Hassanzadeh-Mostafavi
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2678

• Russ Golata
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2679

• Evelyn Posamentier
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2680

• Gina Sangster Hayman
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2681

• Matt Johnson
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2682

• Susan Bright
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2683

• Daniel Zimmerman
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2684

• Fan Ogilvie
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2685

• Henry Gould
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2686

• Carol Novack
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2687

• Joseph Duemer
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2688

• Peter Ciccariello
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2689

• Spencer Selby
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2690

• Eugen Galasso
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2691

• Grace Cavalieri
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2692

• Amy King
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2693

• Halvard Johnson
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2695

• Raymond Bianchi
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2696

• Lars Palm
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2697

• George Spencer
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2698

• Bob Grumman
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2702

• Wendy Taylor Carlisle
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2703

• Br. Tom Murphy
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2704

• Annetta L. Gomez-Jefferson
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2705

• Uzor Maxim Uzoatu
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2706

• Jukka-Pekka Kervinen
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2707

• David Howard
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2708

• Obiwu
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2709

• Afam Akeh
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2720

• Jim Leftwich
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2721

• Charles Martin
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2722

• Luc Fierens
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2723

• Eileen Tabios
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2730

• Donna Pecore
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2731

• Francesco Levato
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2739

• Tony Trigilio
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2740

• Terri Moore
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2741

• Barbara Crooker
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2742

• Vincent Francone
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2743

• David-Baptiste Chirot
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2755

• Julene Tripp Weaver
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2756

• Daniela Gioseffi
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2791

• Obododimma Oha
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2827

• Judith Laura
http://www.fieralingue.it/corner.php?pa=printpage&pid=2829

Street urchins

2008-08-13T08:23:00.000-07:00

Kids separated from love
Separated from discipline
Separated from themselves

Sometimes walking
Sometimes running
Sometimes cursing
Sometimes dead

-- Obododimma Oha

Kalahari

2008-08-09T05:35:00.000-07:00

The sands & the eloquent heat
Perhaps the naked muscle of rock
Reaching out for the crawling fears
Every empty space holding a mystery, a secret
About wandering freedoms & toiling tales

Uche bu akpa

2008-05-14T07:51:00.000-07:00

Uche bu akpa
Onye obula ko nke ya
Ma, gini dikwanu n'ime akpa ahu?
Gini ka i jiri ihe di n'ime akpa i ko gota n'ahia?

Akpa ufodu di oke aru
Akpa ufodu dara chokolii
Akpa ufodu kara nka, na-adafu ihe

Uche bu akpa
Onye obula ko nke ya
Ma, akpa niile kwesiri imara ndi ko ha
Akpa niile kwesiri
I bu akpa a na-eko aga be oganiihu

Akpa ofoogeri abughi akpa ezindu
Akpa oworosu abughi akpa odozi obodo
Akpa onye-agwalam bu akpa ndi choro mkpafu

Uche bu akpa
Ma onye mara udi akpa o ko
Marakwa ma o bu akpa ko ya

--- Obododimma Oha

palmtop & sea breeze

2007-11-22T09:53:00.000-08:00

The Widow's Tears*

2007-09-12T10:51:00.000-07:00

She weeps the loss, weeps the waiting trouble
Of contested farmlands and shrinking hellos
In-laws becoming outlaws, shifting landmarks
Fears of tied hands and buried futures of her growing children

She weeps.

The owl knows her secrets,
Her last bath in the night-over ashes
Endless visits to her husband’s last words
The owl knows the taste of her tears

Nwaanyi mkpe*, dark thoughts
As she keeps custom
Sitting on the edge of knowledge
About his whereabouts

Tears and more tears
As the fears
Build up in her heart
About bouts in bracketed sympathies

She remembers, she forgets
She remembers to forget
To earn a widow’s might to fight
With her knuckles talking
To the land that holds his bones

She weeps her words,
Wet stories and damp questions
Ije di**, has it led her
To the stream & brought her back
Without her waterpot?

-- Obododimma Oha

*Previously published in Agenda, Issue 72, 2007.

2007-08-19T08:25:00.000-07:00

a flute & a shivering mail
caught in the space between flight and attack
windwork of tongue & teeth wailing
in the cold comfort of canines

many welcomes & no goodbyes
from the belly of the beast

--- Obododimma Oha

2007-08-19T08:06:00.000-07:00

Sidewalks

Let's go download a problem
And postpone solutions
Let's let loose.
Sidekicks, sidetalks, booze.

What speeds the wheel
Hums in the hub, thrills.
Let's get total
Like a verb doing things

Sidewalks, trafficking in theories
sleeping late
On sleepless ideas

Sidewalks, the fastest of lanes.

--- Obododimma Oha

2007-04-24T01:47:00.000-07:00

Nigeria Preys

(For Yakubu Gowon)

Nigeria preys

On the rising sun

Crazed with fear

For the spreading rays of hope

Heavy with a curse

Of many genocides ago

She claws her way

To the next damnation

Nigeria preys

Now behind the mask

Of democracy, in the dark passions

Of people-deceiving-people

How many gowons make one Nigeria?

How many darknesses make a victor

Become the vanquished?

2007-04-22T08:42:00.000-07:00

Niyi Osundare and Biodun Jeyifo,
at the latter's 60th birthday poetry reading in Ibadan

2006-08-07T09:57:00.000-07:00

art is my BACKground...

2006-07-08T06:26:00.000-07:00

Mmanwu in Ascent

The call of the ram horn
Searching the ant holes, mesmerizing
Every knower caught in the Web of words

Mmanwu, of distant truth
Wrapped in the smells of many spells
Bursting with song

Is it a voice that I hear
Or a legend that rains
All over the land?

Mmanwu, of distant vision
Trapped in a house of mirrors
Image-on-Image

Is it a sight that I behold
Or a text
Afloat on the magic of the mirrors?

Out of the depths he comes,
Ancestor and god the word
Rising onto the future of the past

2006-07-08T06:19:00.000-07:00

Between a Laugh & a Laugh

Between one laugh and another,
A harvest of unspoken feelings;

The last laugh is lonely,
More lonely than holiness that grows in the desert.

Give a laugh a laugh,
And you are again human.

2006-07-07T10:14:00.000-07:00

Atimbo

My spirit flows with a river,
Behind Malabor running
With the plantain trees towards the silent hills
My spirit runs like the laughing waters
Into the heart of a community, afloat on the thrill
Of peaceful Calabar afternoon

The hills waiting as we come, always
Waiting like bulls
At Obudu, their torsos warm and rugged,
Waiting for the caress of the running fingers
Of rivulets and arching cornfields

The running waters call:
Return
Return
Re-
Turn
To our cherished secrets

I will always return to the tenderness
Of a drumming waterway,
Atimbo!
Atimbo!
Atimbo!
It echoes still in my longing soul…

2006-05-10T01:45:00.000-07:00

ikoro-ito-na-agbogho-ito
in a nightwatch
spirit touching spirit

2006-05-09T05:10:00.000-07:00

View some of Obododimma's online aricles:

* On African poetry and exile
http://epress.lib.uts.edu.au/ojs/index.php/portal/article/view/70/44
* On language and identity construction in Nnamdi Azikiwe's autobiography
http://www.arts.uwa.edu.au/MotsPluriels/MP2303oo.html
* On hyperreality and the rhetoric of otherness http://www.arts.uwa.edu.au/MotsPluriels/MP1801oo.html
* On masquerading and ethnic politics in Nigeria
http://pluto.unesco.org/most/crossroadsoha.htm
* On the politics and semiotics of food
www.arts.uwa.edu.au/MotsPluriels/MP1500oo.html
* On Yoruba home videos and indigenous imagination
http://etudesafricaines.revues.org/document138.html
http://www.visualanthropology.net/papers.php
* European tour of Africa as a virtual/visual encounter
http://www.arts.uwa.edu.au/MotsPluriels/MP1600oo.html
* On gender politics in Igbo proverbs
http://www.africa.kyoto-u.ac.jp/kiroku/asm_normal/
abstracts/pdf/19-2/87-102.pdf

2006-05-02T05:22:00.000-07:00

i found myself among the dead ...
a broken image read
in the realm of utmost dread

2006-05-02T05:04:00.000-07:00

a gathering of the tribes,
tongues back in their scabbards
as the bravest speech envies silence ...

2006-04-07T02:02:00.000-07:00

eke, grace and guts
egwurugwu, many colours of speech
spelling the times...

2006-04-06T11:22:00.000-07:00

Touching the heavenly heavens, with the apparels
Of my dreamed exit
Ezi chi m, hold the taut rope
While I climb...

2006-04-05T10:32:00.000-07:00

Royalty begins in innocence,
Gentle like the breeze on your brows,
Yet confident like the voice of the well-carved ikoro...

2006-04-05T06:17:00.000-07:00

Let's face my face ....