Tag: African author

“Love the African Way” by Esmeralda Yitamben

On By Dr. Y.In Great LiteratureLeave a comment
L’amour / Love

Today, I will share with you a beautiful poem by author Esmeralda Yitamben, “Love, the African Way.” As you remember, I shared the poem ‘African Hair’ by Esmeralda Yitamben which, in my humble opinion, should be published in school books… and which I dearly love. Here is another one, for the lovers out there, and the historians as well. Every part of this poem is rich in history, history of the African continent, of the race, and combines the ancient and the modern faces of Africa : from the scholarly city of Timbuktu, one of the first universities of the world, to the second longest river of Africa, the Congo River and the great Congo Empire, to the libraries of Alexandria, to the sandy beaches of Senegal, from the dunes of The forgotten kingdom of Nubia to the streets of Douala. Imagine climbing the tallest mountain of Africa for someone you love, going to battle like Shaka Zulu, and winning them all like Menelik II (Battle of Adwa)… Imagine a love founded on the rock of the great Egyptian pyramids, and rising like the sphinx, never faltering. No doubt that this is a celebration of victory, of wealth, of the conquest of all battles, and above all… of love. The original poem can be found on Kalaharireview.com. Enjoy!

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“Love, the African Way” by Esmeralda Yitamben

I want to love you in Bambara

And take you to the sacred city of Timbuktu.

“Nakupenda Malaika”

Is what I will tell you, my angel, in Kiswahili.

“Wapi Yo” my dear?

I will speak Lingala and navigate the Congo River looking for you from Kinshasa to Lubumbashi.

On my way, I will stop to contemplate the okapi, whose beauty and grace reminds me so much of yours.

I will climb Mt Kilimandjaro and stand fearlessly like a Maasai warrior.

I will rise on the wings of the sphinx at Thebes,

and revive the rolls of papyri from the burnt libraries of Alexandria,

to read you centuries’ old love poems

And walk the dunes of the ancient kingdom of Nubia at Meroë.

I will celebrate my long lost love on the beach of Dakar, and claim how much I miss you in Wolof “Namm naa la”.

Mase fi mi sile my love, don’t go, is what I will say in Yoruba, so that you never leave me.

You belong to me, natondi wa, I love you, and I will dance to the rhythm of makossa in the streets of Douala.

Like Chaka Zulu, I will be the warrior of your heart, I will fight a thousand battles for you.

And like Menelik II, great emperor of Ethiopia, I will win them all for you, precious one!

Together, we will build an empire as great as the Empire of Mali and our love will be talked about throughout the universe.

And when we finally meet again, I will say M’Bifé, I love you.

Glossary

Wapi Yo = “Where are you?” In Lingala (Congo)

Nakupenda Malaika = “I love you angel” in Kiswahili (Kenya, Tanzania)

Namm naa la = “I miss you,” in Wolof (Senegal, Gambia)

Mase fi mi sile = “don’t leave me” in Yoruba (Nigeria)

Na tondi wa = “I love you” in Douala (Cameroon)

Makossa is a musical style from Cameroon

M’Bifé = “I love you,” in Bambara (Mali)

‘L’Oiseau en Liberté’ / ‘The Free Bird’ de Claude-Joseph M’Bafou-Zetebeg

On By Dr. Y.In Great LiteratureLeave a comment
Souimanga bronze / Bronzy sunbird

Wouldn’t it be nice to be a bird? To take off and fly away, carefree? What comes to mind when observing a bird: a great sense of freedom; freedom to come and go, freedom to sing, no worries for tomorrow, and freedom to just be. Beauty also comes to mind, but liberty always prevail as one of the main descriptors. I recently stumbled upon this poem by Cameroonian author Claude-Joseph M’Bafou-Zetebeg, ‘The Free Bird’ which describes so well that sense of freedom which most of us aspire to. The author focuses on a bird, and describes the freedom the bird enjoys, the lightness, which is greater than all fortunes. I present here ‘L’Oiseau en Liberté‘ by Claude-Joseph M’Bafou-Zetebeg, published in Anthologie Africaine: Poésie Vol2, Jacques Chevrier, Collection Monde Noir Poche, 1988, and translated to English by Dr. Y. Afrolegends.com . Enjoy!

‘L’Oiseau en liberté’ / ‘The Free Bird‘ de Claude-Joseph M’Bafou Zetebeg

L’oiseau qui passe là-bas,

L’oiseau léger

Qui bat des ailes

Et fend l’air là-bas à l’horizon,

N’a rien à lui au monde,

Mais comme il est joli

En liberté !

Et c’est en chantant

Qu’il vit sur la branche,

Le bel oiseau voyageur

Qui rythme les saisons.

Car rien ne vaut la liberté :

C’est la plus digne

De toutes les fortunes,

La liberté dont jouit l’oiseau

Qui vit sur la branche !

La liberté au feu sacré,

La liberté naturelle,

O la sainte liberté

Dont devrait jouir

Tout être

Dans sa facture naïve !

 The bird that passes by,

The light bird,

Who flaps its wings

And splits the air over there in the horizon,

Has nothing of its own in the world,

But how pretty it is

In liberty!

And it is by singing

That it lives on the branch,

The beautiful traveling bird

Who punctuates seasons.

‘Cause nothing beats freedom:

It is the most worthy

Of all fortunes

The freedom enjoyed by the bird,

That lives on the branch !

Freedom in the sacred fire,

Natural freedom,

O the holy freedom

That every being should enjoy

In its naive craftsmanship !

Being Complicated is Incurable

On By Dr. Y.In Great Legends & TalesLeave a comment
tall and short

There were once two friends. One was tall, and the other short.

One day, they decided to go to the market. Since they were going through a narrow path, the tall one left the short one behind.

  • It is because you underestimate me that you leave me behind you, complained the short one.

A bit further, the tall one, trying to satisfy his friend, made him move in front.

  • It is, to better look at me, and laugh at my short height, growled the other.

They reached the market. The place was full of people. The tall one wanting to correct the errors which had been reproached him, brought his friend back to his sides and the two of them walked hand in hand.

  • You put us side by side now to show everyone that you are taller than I, growled the short one.
  • My friend, I think that it is impossible to satisfy a dwarf. You are complicated and it is an incurable disease.

Fables des Montagnes de Patrice Kayo, Collection Les CLES de l’avenir, Editions CLE, Yaounde, p. 38 (1998). Translated to English by Dr. Y., Afrolegends.com

When Silence is Strength

On By Dr. Y.In Great Legends & Tales1 Comment
Silence

An eminent nobleman found one morning that his house had been broken into and all his belongings stolen.

Instead of sounding alarms, he gathered his wives and children in the courtyard, and without saying anything, took place in their midst, calmly smoking his pipe.

Towards the middle of the morning, two young men arrived. They found the family gathered in silence, and thinking that they were mourning the theft that they had perpetrated the night before, they spread in compassion:

  • We were out of the village for several days, said one to the nobleman. Back this morning, we were informed of what has happened to you, and we could not leave without coming to commiserate with you.

For all answer, he had them arrested and tied, before telling them what he had been victim of. The young men confessed.

It is since this story that there is an adage which says that we catch the animal by the paw and the man by the word.

Fables des Montagnes de Patrice Kayo, Collection Les CLES de l’avenir, Editions CLE, Yaounde, p. 39 (1998). Translated to English by Dr. Y., Afrolegends.com

Dry Your Tears African! – Words from Bernard Dadié

On By Dr. Y.In Great Literature, Great People1 Comment
Dry your tears African

I love this poem by  Bernard Dadié which I have posted earlier “Seche tes pleurs, Afrique / Dry Your Tears, Afrika“. The imagery is so clear and the words so deep: O Africa, “our senses are now opened to the splendor of your beauty, the smell of your forests, … your charms…” Africa is so rich,… and it is about time that her sons and daughters stand up to reclaim their inheritance, and feel her beauty, and enjoy her bounty-ness… Yes there is so much adversity, but dry your tears African… and rise up!

 

Sèche tes pleurs, Afrique
Ayant bu
À toutes les fontaines
d’infortune
et de gloire,
Nos sens se sont ouverts
à la splendeur de ta beauté
à la senteur de tes forêts,
à l’enchantement de tes eaux
à la limpidité de ton ciel
à la caresse de ton soleil
Et au charme de ta verdure emperlée de rosée.

Dry your tears, Africa!
We have drunk
From all the springs
of ill fortune
and of glory,
Our senses are now opened
To the splendor of your beauty
To the smell of your forests,
To the charm of your waters
To the clearness of your skies
To the cares of your sun
And to the charm of your foliage pearled by the dew.

 

The poem below is titled “Dry your Tears Afrika” or “Sèche Tes Pleurs,” published in 1967, by Bernard Binlin Dadié (So long to an African Literary Genius: Bernard Dadié).

 

“Eve Congolaise / Congolese Eve” by Jean-Baptiste Tati-Loutard

On By Dr. Y.In Great Literature, Great People1 Comment

Congo_Brazzaville_Flag
Flag of the Republic of Congo

Many cultures in Africa are matriarchal, and it absolutely makes sense that the homeland is constantly portrayed as a woman in African poetry. Today we will talk about the poem “Congolese Eve” by Jean-Baptiste Tati-Loutard. Tati-Loutard is a Congolese author from the Republic of Congo or Congo-Brazzaville. As an accomplished writer, he has published several compilation of poetry, and has won several awards. In his writings, he does a deep expose of the art, life, and nature; he often incorporates the feminine element in his work. Similar to other African authors like Léopold Sédar Senghor (former president of Senegal) or Ferdinand L. Oyono (minister in Cameroon), Tati-Loutard is also a politician, who has occupied several posts in the government of his country.

African princess
African princess

Enjoy ‘Ève Congolaise‘ by Jean-Baptiste Tati-Loutard, published in Anthologie africaine: poésie, Jacques Chevrier, Collection Monde Noir Poche, Hatier 1988, p. 136. Translated to English by Dr. Y. Afrolegends.com.

 

 

 

 

Eve Congolaise

Je l’ai vue quand Dieu l’a créée sur la Montagne :

C’était une pleine nuit, la lune ayant atteint

Le plus haut niveau de ses crues de lumière.

 

Avant que Dieu ne parût comme jadis sur l’Horeb,

L’herbe alentour marchait déjà tête baissée

Sous la brise.

 

Il prit de la terre non battue de quelque pied,

Et la coula – vierge comme au Jour Premier –

Dans un long rayon de lune.

 

En un tour de main, ce fut le tour des seins ;

Et la grâce et l’esprit giclaient d’Eve

En eclaboussements éblouissants de lumière.

Puis vint le signal :

 

Dans l’espace nu, le vent se mit à tourner sur lui-même

Comme s’il avait mal de ne pouvoir se détendre

Dans un arbre. Dieu reprit l’air dans le tourbillon ;

Et dans le silence plein de clarté,

 

L’Eve congolaise descendit vers le fleuve à l’heure

Où le soleil sort en refermant derrière lui

La porte de la nuit.

 

 

 Congolese Eve

I saw her when God created her on the Mountain:

It was a full night, the moon having reached

the fullest level of its light floods.

 

Before God appeared as He once did on the Horeb,

The grass around was already walking head down

Under the breeze

 

He took some dirt from some foot,

And the flow – virgin as on the First Day –

In a long moon ray.

 

In no time it was the turn of the breasts ;

And the grace and the spirit spurted from Eve

In dazzling splashes of light.

Then came the signal :

 

In the naked space, the wind started to turn on itself

As if it hurts not to be able to relax

In a tree. God took the air back in the whirlwind;

And in the silence full of clarity,

 

The Congolese eve descended towards the river at the time

When the sun comes out closing behind him

The door of the night.

Les raciness congolaises, op. cit.

‘Je suis venu chercher du travail’ / ‘I Came to Look for Work’ by Francis Bebey

On By Dr. Y.In Great Literature, Great People1 Comment

Francis Bebey_1
Francis Bebey

Today, as states and countries are slowly reopening after the shelter-in-place due to the coronavirus pandemic, many have been left jobless, and are looking for a job now or in the near future. I think the poem ‘Je suis venu chercher du travail / I came to look for work‘ by the great Cameroonian writer and musician Francis Bebey is very appropriate. The poem below is the story of many immigrants traveling to a foreign land in search of a job, a better life, leaving all behind: families, friends, and country. This poem is very simple, yet so deep as it details the losses taken today, in hope for a better tomorrow. As you think about the immigrants dying in the Mediterranean sea, or those crossing the Mexico-US border, or all the countless faces in the world, take a moment to imagine families torn apart, lives in peril, and possibly no light at the end of the tunnel.

Francis Bebey_Agatha Moudio Son
‘Agatha Moudio’s Son’ by Francis Bebey (Amazon)

Francis Bebey was sort of a genius: in his early years, he studied mathematics, before going into broadcasting. He was called to Ghana by President Kwame Nkrumah, where he served as a journalist. He began his literary career as a journalist in the 1950s and worked in Ghana and other African countries for the French radio network, Société de radiodiffusion de la France d’outre-mer (SORAFOM) and Radio France International. Later, he wrote novels, poetry, plays, tales, short stories, nonfiction works, and established himself as a musician, sculptor, and writer.  His first novel, Le Fils d’Agatha Moudio (Agatha Moudio’s Son), was published in 1967 and awarded the Grand prix littéraire d’Afrique noire in 1968; it remains his best-known work to this day. He also headed the music department at the UNESCO‘s office in Paris, where he focused on researching and documenting African traditional music.

Enjoy ‘Je suis venu chercher du travail‘ by Francis Bebey, published in Anthologie africaine: poésie, Jacques Chevrier, Collection Monde Noir Poche, Hatier 1988. Translated to English by Dr. Y. Afrolegends.com.

Je suis venu chercher du travail

Je suis venu chercher du travail

J’espère qu’il y en aura

Je suis venu de mon lointain pays

Pour travailler chez vous

J’ai tout laissé, ma femme, mes amis

Au pays tout là-bas

J’espère les retrouver tous en vie

Le jour de mon retour

Ma pauvre mère était bien désolée

En me voyant partir

Je lui ai dit qu’un jour je reviendrai

Mettre fin à sa misère

J’ai parcouru de longs jours de voyage

Pour venir jusqu’ici

Ne m’a-t-on pas assuré d’un accueil

Qui vaudrait bien cette peine

Regardez-moi, je suis fatigué

D’aller par les chemins

Voici des jours que je n’ai rien mangé

Auriez-vous un peu de pain?

Mon pantalon est tout déchiré

Mais je n’en ai pas d’autre

Ne criez pas, ce n’est pas un scandale

Je suis seulement pauvre

Je suis venu chercher du travail

J’espère qu’il y en aura

Je suis venu de mon lointain pays

Pour travailler chez vous

 I came to look for work

I came to look for work

I hope that there will be

I came from my far away country

To work for you

I left everything, my wife, my kids

In my country over there

I hope to find them all alive

On the day of my return

My poor mother was very sorry

To see me go

I told her that I will come back one day

To put an end to her misery

I had long days of travel

To get here

Was I not assured of a welcome

Which will be worth all this trouble

Look at me, I am tired

To go by the ways

It has been days since I ate anything

Do you have some bread?

My trouser is all ripped

But I don’t have another

Do not scream, it is not a scandal

I am just poor

I came to look for work

I hope there will be

I came from my far away country

To work for you

Inédit

A Quote from Bernard Dadié: “Thank You God for Making me Black”

On By Dr. Y.In Great Literature, Great People3 Comments

Laughter_1
Rire / Laughter

Je vous remercie mon Dieu, de m’avoir créé Noir, Je porte le Monde depuis l’aube des temps Et mon rire sur le Monde, dans la nuit crée le jour.

I thank you God, for having created me black, I carry the world since the beginning of times And my laughter on the world, at night created the day.

Aube_1
Aube / Dawn

Bernard Binlin Dadié.  The poem below is titled “I Thank you God” or “I thank you my God,” “Je vous Remercie Mon Dieu” de Bernard B. Dadie / “I Thank You God” from Bernard Binlin Dadie

“Dances of Yesterday” (Danses d’Hier) by Antoine Abel

On By Dr. Y.In Great Art, Great Literature, Great PeopleLeave a comment

Seychelles_Antoine Abel_Livre
Antoine Abel, Seychelles’ most prominent author

One of Seychelles’ most acclaimed and prolific author is the writer Antoine Abel, who had been an ambassador of the indigenous culture of the island nation. He is considered by many as the father of Seychelles’ literature, and had an extensive career writing novels, short stories, poetry and plays in French, English, and Creole. Most of his work dealt with the folklore of the Seychelles, and the natural environment of the islands, in which he wove in colorful personalities and histories inspired from the local culture. Descending from a family of slaves, he is the first Seychellois writer to expose to wide world to the literary gems of the country.

Below is one of his poems, ‘Dances d’hier‘ translated to English by Dr. Y., Afrolegends.com. Enjoy the poem below, and also check out The Seychelles Ministry for Youth Sports and Culture which ‘remembers Antoine Abel.’

 

 

Danses d’hier

J’entends encore les staccatos
Le prolongement des sons des tam-tams
Des tam-tams du temps jadis

Alors les collines s’enflamment
Dans la nuit sèche
Les pieds des danseurs
Se baignent dans la fine poussière
De latérite
Et leurs pas scandent sauvagement
Un rythme endiablé

J’entends encore les notes rapides
La voix étouffée du « commandeur »
Se modulant dans l’air tiède du soir.

Alors les échines s’arc-boutent
Les unes aux autres
Et les hanches roulent comme des houles
Les ventres des danseuses voluptueuses
Ondulent lascivement…
Et des voix confuses s’interpellent
Impudemment.

Je perçois toujours les staccatos
Les grondements des “grosses caisses”
Par delà les années de mon enfance …
Je les porte en moi
Comme des stigmates.

 Dances of Yesterday

I still hear the staccatos
The extension of the sounds of the drums
The drums from the old days

Then the hills ignite (flare)
In the dry night
The dancers’ feet
bathe in the fine dust
of laterite
And their steps wildly chant
A frenzied rhythm

I still hear the quick notes
The muffled voice of the « commander »
Modulating in the warm evening air.

Then the backs bridge
One with the other
And the hips roll like swells
The bellies of the voluptuous dancers
Wave sensually…
And confused voices call out
Impudently.

I still perceive the staccatos
The rumblings of the “big drums”
Beyond the years of my childhood…
I carry them in me
Like stigmas.

African Author wins Prestigious Literary Prize

On By Dr. Y.In Great Literature, Great People11 Comments

Jennifer Makumbi
Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi

A Ugandan author based in Great Britain whose debut novel was initially rejected by British publishers for being ‘too African‘, has won one of the world’s richest literary prizes.

Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi, the winner of the 2014 Commonwealth short fiction prize from Uganda but now living in the UK, has won one of the Windham Campbell Prizes from Yale University in the US.

Jennifer Makumbi_Kintu1
‘Kintu’ by Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi

She will receive $165,000 (£119,000). The prize money is more than double the amount that the Booker Prize winner gets, and organizers say it’s the richest award dedicated to literature after the Nobel Prize. Makumbi’s debut novel Kintu was first published in Kenya four years ago after British publishers rejected it for being “too African”. It was finally released in the UK this January. In Ugandan culture, Kintu is a mythological figure who appears in a legend of the Baganda of Uganda as a creation myth. According to this legend, Kintu was the first person on earth, the father of all people. Although her book is not about this Kintu, it follows a family who believes that there is a curse on them which has followed them over several generations, spanning more than 250 years.

I loved Makumbi’s Commonwealth short story, and lived through the pain of her main character. Now I cannot wait to read her first book and regal in Ugandan history and culture.