Thinking aloud, while sipping palmwine in England - Darko Antwi

Perhaps it's raining
in my hometown
And the roaming goats
must have sought shelter
under the barn of maize and dried cassava

Perhaps it's raining
And the old lady is keeping some firewood
safe for morning porridge
and lukewarm bathwater

Perhaps it's raining
And Papa ought to rise
from his reclined chair
and place a barrel under the pelvis of the roof
to contain the pleasurable thrust of the waterfall

Perhaps it's raining
And the village boys and girls
are having an athletic fair:
cartwheeling themselves across fields,
or molding clay into Rubus fruticosus,
or reshaping the plastic soil to form urban houses,
owned by distant relatives
who have become pregnant men at Santasi

If it does not rain tomorrow,
will those boys and girls
cross the boundaries of the village
and trot around the globe
in chase of wild goose,
and wear out their fiber and cerebral,
for nickels and dimes?

Perhaps it's raining. Perhaps it's raining...
raining in the place of my birth...
raining cats and dogs.

Author Profile - Darko Antwi

Biography:

Darko Antwi was born in Kumasi in May 1976. After his secondary education at Bekwai Seventh Day Adventist, he taught in local kindergarten and primary schools from 1997 - 2002. He served as a columnist for African Echo newspaper from 2007 until 2009.

During the Emancipation Day 2006 at Cape Coast, Antwi’s epic, Nkrabea, was adapted for recitation. Also, it has a regular reading feature at Black History Month - Britain. One of Antwi's poems has recently been published at Phillis Wheatley Chapter.

Five Questions with Darko Antwi:

1. You mentioned in the comment section of last week's OGOV poem that "Thinking aloud..." "shapes itself between" Juanita Tsikata's "Wake Up, I'm Home" and Philip Addo's "A Text Message To My Friend, Jake, Who Died For Their Sake". Could you expand on this observation a bit? How do you think your poem sits between them? And what new territory does it cover that the other two do not?

Whereas Juanita Tsikata's title reviews a case of national identity and cultural deviation as a result of long term emigration, mine takes a preview of the subject. I noticed that the voice in Tsikata's poem makes decisive statements, very opposite to my contemplative rhetorical questions, be they legitimate or not.

Although it does not predict the aftermath of the voluntary movement of people "in the oracles of unseen" chains, Philip Addo's poem views, reports or bears witness to the event. The following lines are expressive: "The lions are marching with ants into pits for grains / The sheep are diving into the sea for fishes / They are going back to the mud."

There is mass movement of skilled/unskilled, legal/illegal Ghanaian immigrants in Europe and elsewhere. Yet settling in another country is not peculiar to Ghanaians, considering the socio-economic advantages and disadvantages that are being reaped globally. So depending on the angle one looks at continental migration, the theme, tone and the mood of the three poems can be compared and contrasted in minute traces.


2. Was "Thinking aloud..." written, at least in part, as a conscious response to similarly-themed poems by other writers, or was it written "independently" (i.e. only sub-consciously in relationship with other poems)?

It's neither of them. I wrote it during a difficult time in London. I had no job for nearly three months. So it's definitely a reflection of opportunities and resources in Ghana versus my jobless state. I never thought of responding to, or bearing relationship with other poems. Anyway, it would have been interesting writing with some sort of conscience other than the explained.


3. How important do you think it is that we as poets "challenge" one another on important issues? Do you think such criticism/debate is best accomplished through prose writing, or through further poems?

Very important. It has to be prose, since it elaborates and could better untie the tight knots of poetry.


4. Earlier this year a poem of yours, "The Burial of Saint Domeabra", was given a close reading by Prince Mensah as part of our "How Poems Work" series. How did it feel to have a poem of yours analysed in this way? Was it useful to you? Did it help you look at your writing, and your writing process, in a new light?

I was excited. I felt honoured. Prince Mensah's detailed work confounds me. It renewed my mind as to the fact that a poem has a message. But it never scared me of playing with words!


5. In a recent comment on the site, you expressed your regret that discussion of OGOV poems is down in 2011. Since we're at the end of the year, with voting currently on for our "Favourite Poems of 2011", what one or two OGOV poems from 2011 do you think should have garnered more attention and discussion from our readers?

The "The Makings of You" Series was a sensation. We could have had a lengthy discussion on Nii Ayikwei Parkes' prodigious output. But we made less out of "The Makings of Ourselves". In October, L.S. Mensah recreated the "Mother of Equiano" and the "Mother of Ikemefuna" for our veneration, but to my disappointment we paid little homage to her courtesy. David Urion's "Arthur Wharton, A Black Star Shines in Space" should have had a rocket discussion, but it lifted-off to nowhere.

Contact Darko:

darko.antwi@yahoo.co.uk

How Poems Work #3 - Prince Mensah on Darko Antwi's "The Burial of Saint Domeabra"

The following is the third installment in our "How Poems Work" series. This series aims to give OGOV readers and poets an opportunity to talk about some of their favourite poems previously featured on the site. Darko Antwi's "The Burial of Saint Domeabra" initially appeared on our site on September 11th, 2010, and can be read in full here.


---

O Saint Domeabra… that Friday dawn
that dawn when you died at AbrepƆ,
your kinsmen dragged your body –
through the long woody quiet path
that goes to your primal village.

One could barely hear the singing birds.

Darko Antwi opens “The Burial of Saint Domeabra” by calling Domeabra a “Saint”. He does this without letting us know what Domeabra had done in life to merit being so called. It is interesting, then, that even though Domeabra is said to be a Saint, his "kinsmen dragged" his body, instead of carrying it, as is customarily done, "through the long woody quiet path/that goes to your primal village." From the words in the first stanza, it can be deduced that St. Domeabra’s death occurred before morning. This makes the news of his death the first thing that people heard about that day. His body is hurriedly "dragged" from AbrepƆ to his "primal village". I wonder why there is a rush to bury him. If he was of importance to his kinsmen, they neither would have dragged his body nor would they have rushed to bury him. However, the tragedy sinks deep in the heart of nature, so that "one could barely hear the singing birds". It is believed in Ghana (and other parts of Africa) that the skies turn dark when great men die. Even though the kinsmen do not accord St. Domeabra’s body any respect, nature becomes silent because of him.

It was so quiet – a whisper could explode.
No maid had been out to the wells
and the boys who run helter skelter at noon
were still on their bamboo mats,
dreaming snail-hunt and rattraps.

In the second stanza, the silence has become infectious. There is no activity; no work by the maid, no play by the boys. Everyone is "still on their bamboo mats/dreaming snail-hunt and rattraps." Once again, the question rises: why are they not meditating on the life and times of St. Domeabra? Was it only a routine courtesy to be paid or a sincere pause to mourn a friend?

Domeabra, that day of your death,
your people cried – but not unto your soul.
For they delight in bodies more than life.
Yet, no sooner had they worn red and black
than their pestles and mortar put aside.

The third stanza answers the why in the preceding stanzas. People cried upon hearing about Domeabra’s death but it was not to mourn his soul's passing. It was just another funeral; another life wasted by death. This is where Antwi begins his subtle dig against cultural addictions to the performances of rites superseding the importance of the people in them – For they delight in bodies more than in life. Domeabra was more worthy to his people dead than alive. At least, they could raise money through nsuwa (monetary contributions by friends to the family of the deceased). They could wear red and black (colours of mourning) in the same breath as "their pestles and mortars" were put aside.

At the graveyard, I eavesdropped,
they were telling a thousand tales about your life:
the lemons, the salt, the god and the demons in you.
Yehowah! each person knows what or who killed you,
all too compelling – but none trustworthy.

In the fourth stanza, the poet listens to testimonies about the deceased; he hears "a thousand tales" about Domeabra. He hears bizarre stories that border on the absurd and the mystical. The stories about Domeabra are "all too compelling – but none trustworthy." The area gossips "know what or who killed" Domeabra but it seem no one was able to pre-empt his death. Antwi mocks the myths and legends that tend to be told after people die. All of a sudden, everybody seems to know some powerful secret about the deceased; everyone wants to be seen as an expert on the deceased's life (and death).

If I should say: you were without fault,
I will be defying Romans and Corinthians.
None of your accusers is righteous though
– amongst them are many two-leftfooters
who can guess the skeletons in their cupboards?

In the fifth stanza, the poet does something that Domeabra’s people should have done all along: he mourns the dead man. The poem becomes a dirge. He sees the Saint as a flawed man, a man no less than his self-righteous accusers. This stanza reminds me of Mark Anthony’s words in Act III, Scene II of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar:

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones;

In the poet’s eyes, it is not Domeabra who is on trial. It is his people and their attitudes about his passing. It is not about Domeabra’s character; it is about his people’s callousness. Antwi uses biblical allusion in the line "If I should say: you were without fault,/I will be defying Romans and Corinthians." In the Bible, the Book of Romans talks about the fact that all have sinned and have fallen short of the glory of God. The Book of Corinthians covers the subject of life after death.

The use of Biblical allusion in this stanza betrays the subtle dance between tradition and Christian beliefs promoted by the society Antwi is writing about: St. Domeabra’s soul is consoled with scriptural themes. This is key to understanding the context of Domeabra’s "sainthood". At this point in the poem, the dead man’s memory, though dishonoured by his own people, is immortalized through the use of Christian concepts. It is important to note that Domeabra was not given a native appellation at death, he was given a Christian designation. This raises a few questions about his society: Do they give credit to their own as much as strangers praise them? Is this a validation of Christ’s saying in John 4:44 that “a prophet has no honour in his own country”? What has the practice of culture done to the way we treat ourselves?

Domeabra, when you were buried,
that day, that very day, I bathed with palmwine
And ripped my heart into shreds of reed
(I ripped it bleeding with hands of gorilla)
But, sorry, I couldn’t have joined you in the grave.

In the sixth stanza, we do not hear about Domeabra’s kinsfolk at all. This is because the poet has taken over the role of chief mourner as he "bathed with palmwine/And ripped [his] heart into shreds of reed." The poet does everything that is humanly possible to mourn the dead but sets a limit to what he can do – he cannot "join [him] in the grave." At this point the poet stops mourning and begins searching for meaning. He scans through images at the funeral and finds none that satisfy his search. Because of this, the poet starts seeking beyond the physical depiction of things.

The sixth stanza is poignant in its description of alcoholic binges at funerals. The usual Ghanaian village funeral scene is a mixture of cold palm wine and hot tears. Antwi refutes the half-hearted me ne wo be ko'ooo (I shall go with you) funeral chant in the last line of the sixth stanza - "But, sorry, I couldn’t have joined you in the grave."

Domeabra, look, when you die again,
let them bury you where you would die
because no piece of land repels a corpse.
Humans may fail or pretend therefore
but earth is a kind keeper of us all.

The seventh stanza carries hints of rejuvenation and/or reincarnation where the poet speaks to Domeabra’s soul: "Domeabra, look, when you die again,/let them bury you where you would die"

The poet chooses not to speak to others about St. Domeabra; he speaks directly to the “Saint” himself. He sets a defiant tone against every ingredient of this tragedy: it is directed at death, the community and its customs. The poet subtly digs at the cultural insistence that a man be buried where he was born, "because no piece of land repels a corpse." The poet finds it in his heart to be forgiving of how Domeabra’s kinsfolk handled his final rites. The final words of the poem reassure the restless spirits of the disrespected dead to understand that "Humans may fail or pretend therefore/but earth is a kind keeper of us all", for nature does not fail where humans falter.

The seventh stanza resonates with people who live in a land faraway from the land of their birth. There is this tendency by culturally obsessed Ghanaians, who live in Diaspora, to insist on being taken back to Ghana after they die. Instead of being buried in the "foreign land", their corpses are flown back to Ghana as special cargo. This incurs a heap of expenses for their family members, forcing them to use funds that could go into enhancing the education and/or sustenance of a living person. It is a belief held among Ghanaian tribes that if a person is not buried in their land of birth, their soul will be restless.



"The Burial of Saint Domeabra" is a poem about wandering, about the nomadic in life, who seek closure by being brought home to rest. Darko Antwi questions why wanderers seek closure, why Domeabra chose his primal village to be his final resting place and not AbrepƆ. Or perhaps everything was decided for him once he was dead. He was not there to choose how his funeral was organized; he was not there to monitor how he was buried. He was not present to judge the fake tears that were shared for him. He was dead and gone; no disrespect of his body and memory could faze him any longer. At that instance, the poet becomes his voice, his means of expression in a world wherein he is silenced on all levels.

The title of the poem is splendid, from a linguistic point of view. Domeabra is a derivative word of the Akan phrase, Se wo do me a, bra which means "If you love me, come to me". Anyone who has attended a Ghanaian funeral would remember seeing multitudes of people. The fact remains that a huge part of the multitude never knew the deceased in personal terms. Some of them are distant relatives, others are old acquaintances (or friends of friends) and the rest are curious folk who want to be part of the funeral. They all attend the funeral because there is a thin line of love, a human solidarity with the dead person. It is assumed that people normally do not attend the funerals of people they dislike. Peter Tosh’s famously declined to attend Bob Marley's funeral, for instance. Hence, the crowd at a funeral is assumed to be present because they "love" the deceased. Everyone becomes a Saint when they die, because it is considered dishonourable to speak ill of the dead. Domeabra was a simple man, who made mistakes in life but, in death, he is canonized by villagers bound by customary practices.

"The Burial of Saint Domeabra" tackles our cultural obsession with funerals and, by extension, places of burial. With brutally honest humour, Antwi lays into deep seated cultural practices that adore corpses but do not attend to the needs of the living.

There is symbolism in Antwi's use of seven stanzas to convey the themes in this poem. In Akan funeral rites, seven horns called the Menson are blown to remember the dead. It is the same idea as the twenty-one gun salute for fallen soldiers. In many cultures and religions, seven means completion and for the poet, a practicing Seventh-Day Adventist, the seventh day is a day of rest (according to the order of creation). In the Akan language, God is known as Kwame, the name given to a male born on the seventh day. Antwi’s use of seven stanzas to commemorate the passing of Saint Domeabra satisfies a native ritual. The intertwining of cultural symbolism gives this poem refreshing distinctiveness. Antwi hopes that, after all the brouhaha in the village concerning his burial, Saint Domeabra will finally find rest in death. Antwi does exactly what poetry is meant to be: commenting on very deep issues in very few words.

His use of Twinglish (a linguistic mix of Twi and English) in the phrase, "Saint Domeabra," is one of the many powers that this poem uses to convey its themes. It is about time for us, writers of African descent, to be creative on multiple levels when it comes to language. Chinua Achebe and Ngugi wa Thiong’o were unapologetic with the use of native words in their prose. Poetry in Ghana, as a microcosm of African poetry, has been reluctant to give the rest of the world a taste of our beautiful languages. It is about time African poets and writers put their words where their hearts are. The use of a local word or phrase as the pivot of a poem urges the English speaker/reader to understand a word that is not native to his/her tongue. African writers can inject this instrument of linguistic reciprocity to achieve seven main objectives:

1. To forge new words made out of their own languages
2. To maintain the use of their native language in a world where other languages are dying or acquiescing themselves to English
3. To give their work authenticity and identity
4. To broaden the lexicon of the English language, which still lacks words that properly describe certain actions, activities and people
5. To keep the contextual integrity of their works
6. To open their world to the rest of the world, and
7. To make their poetry more accessible to the less-educated in their societies.

From the first to the seventh stanza, Darko Antwi creates a sad portrait about forms and intentions. The funeral is the form but is it to honour the dead or enrich the living? The world is the form but are we called "Saints" in zest or in jest? We cannot answer these questions thoroughly. Each person sees a different side of the prisms of life and death. We are thankful that poets like Darko Antwi never cease to remind us of the deep things in life.


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Prince Mensah is an Associate Editor at OGOV. You can read more of his writing here.

Favourite Poems of 2010

Readers' Picks:

TRƆTRƆ by Kwadwo Kwarteng (Issue 4.3, January 16th - 22nd, 2010)

Comments on TRƆTRƆ:

"I love the way Kwadwo Kwarteng explored sounds to paint a vivid picture in the mind of readers, about an experience most of us have witnessed! Whoever reads the poem can imagine what to expect in the "Trotro" on any day." - Oteng Owusu

"Kwarteng has the potential/ability of breathing life into each sound - be it chaotic or serene. And the life-span [of the poem] is long and enduring in the ears of those who cherish rhythm." - Darko Antwi

Silence by Samuel Adjei Ntow (Issue 4.8, February 20th - 26th, 2010)

Comments on Silence:

"With a very good command of the English language, and the highest order of figurative speech, Ntow uses the trance-like Silence to express both the interior and exterior relationship between a social organism and its environment." - Darko Antwi

"This is a good work. Indeed these [things] do happen through the night in Ghanaian settings and for Ntow to have captured the details in his work makes it wonderful. Well done." - Nana Agyemang Ofosu

The Deer Hunt by Mariska Taylor-Darko (Issue 4.38, September 25th - October 1st, 2010)

Comments on The Deer Hunt:

"I chose this poem based on three broad categories: 1. Its descriptive screenplay quality, appropriate POV and clever use of imagery, 2. Its socio-cultural significance, and 3. Its potential as a reference point in literature books for educational purposes." - Dela Bobobee (Read Dela's essay on The Deer Hunt here)

"This title stands the chance of being a key literature in any modern Ghanaian collection of cultural importance." - Darko Antwi

Staff Picks:

Swear Note by L.S. Mensah (Issue 4.29, July 17th - 23rd, 2010)

Comments on Swear Note:

"I love this piece because it addresses a serious and emotional issue in our modern society using various figures of speech and animations that put your mind to work and make you visualize the brutal activities that women under trokosi go through. I am sure any women's organisation would love to use this piece for advocacy" - Julian Adomako-Gyimah

"L.S. Mensah's use of the specular is apt for the theme of mirrors in this poem. She uses the same words in reverse structure to capture an ancient African saying: "if you point at a person with your index finger, remember the rest are pointing at you."" - Prince Mensah

old dust made new by Daniela Elza (Issue 4.11, March 13th - 19th, 2010)

Comments on old dust made new:

"Daniela uses spaces to create a sparse landscape and a staccato of varied emotions in a poem that captures Harmattan in all its glory and grimness. " - Prince Mensah

"I personally haven't experienced Harmattan for a while and this piece brings back memories, particularly of when I was a kid and had little control about the damage that this season caused our hands and lips. Great work. " - Julian Adomako-Gyimah

The Burial of Saint Domeabra by Darko Antwi (Issue 4.36, September 11th - 17th, 2010)

Comment on The Burial of Saint Domeabra:

"Poet and critic Darko Antwi delivers a loaded sermon in his poem about transience. More hidden is his indictment of culture in playing games with a person's reputation. Darko's poem is international in reach, even though it is local in description. "The Burial of Saint Domeabra" is a palatable piece of work: it contains an array of food for thought." - Prince Mensah

Speaking in Tongues with Enyonam - Darko Antwi

It was still winter in England. And I saw Enyonam,
At Shepherd Bush, walking briskly to a train station

Getting into each other’s way, we took several turns
To my house: 294 Highbury Avenue, West London

After dinner, steamy bath, warm hugs and all that,
She asked with her eyes if she could stay overnight

I held her plump brown cheek in reply. So she stayed,
As fresh as an Akomadan tomato in a season basket

A few hours before bedtime, we conversed endlessly:
I spoke about blackmagic, spells, and fortune-tellers

She spoke about men with broad hairy chest
And then, Valentine cards and favourite colours

Then I spoke about Jah Houphouet nous parle,
And Hypocrite, and other whips of the Ivorian singer

Together, we spoke about our tribes and birthplaces,
And wooden lorries, cocoa farms and rural folk

She spoke about dowries, hairstyles and photographs
And then, honeymoon, childbirth and contraception

And I spoke about history teachers and Mansa Musa
And the sawdust and fracas of the 1966 coup

Together we spoke about Nana Kwaku Bonsam
And then, the glorious feet of Kejetia preachers

She spoke about fabric, textiles and jewel boxes
And the goddess frame of Asabea Cropper

And I spoke about freekick missiles and offside traps
And the assassination of goalkeeper Robert Mensah

Together we spoke about our proud Alma Mater,
And Sabbath, and the might of Corpus Christi

She spoke about housewives and groundnut soup
And then, the estate and franchise of Kofi Wayo

And I spoke about the endangered species of poetry
And poets who die young – and poets who die poor

Again she spoke about men with broad hairy chest,
And then, Valentine cards and favourite colours

And I spoke about the clattering beads around her waist
And her dimples and her sharp olive eyes…

I wish I could – yet I can’t remember her last words
But it was near midnight when our mouths got closer…

And we finally locked tongues, and spoke no more

Author Profile - Darko Antwi

Biography:

Darko Antwi was born in Kumasi in May 1976. After his secondary education at Bekwai Seventh Day Adventist, he taught in local kindergarten and primary schools from 1997 - 2002. He served as a columnist for African Echo newspaper from 2007 until 2009.

During the Emancipation Day 2006 at Cape Coast, Antwi’s epic, Nkrabea, was adapted for recitation. Also, it has a regular reading feature at Black History Month - Britain. Two of Antwi's poems have recently been published at Phillis Wheatley Chapter.

Five Questions with Darko Antwi:

1. You have embedded in this poem a brief cultural history of Ghana, as told from a flat in West London. I wonder then, if you think of this poem as speaking out to outsiders (telling the story to Londoners) or a calling back to your homeland that you have not forgotten (reminiscing with Enyonam), or both?

Every part of the conversation, including the cultural history you’ve pointed out, is a random subject of interest under discussion. As they are voiced through a casual traffic from passage to passage, I intend to summon or reminisce the spirit of my homeland – with regards to the brief cultural history embedded.

In another sense, the geographic outsiders (Londoners etc) are the target audience – yet they have to use interpretative means to break into the codes of the far-fetched references (of symbols, events and personalities) found in the subtexts and microscopic phrases of the poem. Unless the references are understood, the conversation would be irrelevant to any listener I want to reach. Quite aside to your question, may I imply that we don’t normally get to understand all subjects of conversation that we happen to partake in real dialogues, let alone those to whom it’s replayed – without the advantage of body language. Playwrights will do well to convey every act. Poets may fail.

If it can be argued that this poem bears an allusion to the biblical event where a group of worshippers were said to be speaking in tongues, then it could be effective to say that every poet speaks in an unknown tongue if his readers find it hard to understand any symbol in his language.


2. Humour seems to be weaving its way more and more into your poems, as in Enyonam's returning to the men with "broad, hairy chests". Why do you turn to moments of humour in your poetry? What effect do you hope for these moments to have on the reader's broader experience of the whole poem?

Em… just to make a reader smile, if I could. With that in mind I wanted to portray Enyonam as a typical modern African young woman whose freedom of choice makes her enthusiastic, and perhaps unreserved to discuss sexuality, her ‘ideal man’ and matrimonial goose bumps. Despite her fascination, I can’t rightly picture her as any other – apart from being a sincere and persistent party to the rapport, who finally manages to break ‘a deal’. A deal I have left to the imagination of readers.


3. Every discussion with you leads back, at one point or another, to form. Here you are writing in couplets, and enjambing your lines to create almost equal line-lengths throughout the poem. That said, you've also clearly attempted to break your lines in intelligent places, not leaving weaker words like "the" or "of" dangling at the end of a line. When deciding where to enjamb your lines, what takes precedence: the visual appearance of the poem, or the meaning/strength of the words? Perhaps something else entirely?

In this particular poem, visual appearance takes precedence. I remember going back to the first two stanzas (originally drafted in three lines) to enjamb them after the rest of the stanzas, which were shaping up in couplets. What is habitual of me is that I tend to mind the visual appearance of any title that descends down to the foot of the page. Well noticed! I avoid the dangling of weaker words. I do so, in most cases, just to hold subject-verb-object in symmetry to sustain the meaning of tenses. Guilty me, I sometimes do that to redeem visual appearance.


4. We're almost at the end of 2010. As a regular OGOV reader and commenter, what have been your OGOV highlights for 2010?

I enjoyed your interview with Martin Egblewogbe. The aftermath of Prince Anin-Agyei's poem is memorable. I will applaud every commentary I’ve read this year. None is less important, none is more important than others – all are encouraging. But betwixt the gap of our selective and vacated commentary, Dela Bobobee filled a vacuum of our critical indebtedness with several resourceful commentaries. His illustrious article on Mariska’s poem comes quickly to mind as a highlight.


5. Continuing on the last question, what one book that you read in 2010 would you recommend to our readers?

Traces of a Life, by Abena P.A Busia, stands out as recommendable. I picked these quotations from her poetry:

Death is our final necessity
But alive we resist it with every living breath [Page 21]

All hearts pump blood,
But not all hearts are good, and brave and kind [Page 39]

Contact Darko:

darko.antwi@yahoo.co.uk

The Burial of Saint Domeabra - Darko Antwi

O Saint Domeabra… that Friday dawn
that dawn when you died at AbrepƆ,
your kinsmen dragged your body –
through the long woody quiet path
that goes to your primal village.

One could barely hear the singing birds.

It was so quiet – a whisper could explode.
No maid had been out to the wells
and the boys who run helter skelter at noon
were still on their bamboo mats,
dreaming snail-hunt and rattraps.

Domeabra, that day of your death,
your people cried – but not unto your soul.
For they delight in bodies more than life.
Yet, no sooner had they worn red and black
than their pestles and mortar put aside.

At the graveyard, I eavesdropped,
they were telling a thousand tales about your life:
the lemons, the salt, the god and the demons in you.
Yehowah! each person knows what or who killed you,
all too compelling – but none trustworthy.

If I should say: you were without fault,
I will be defying Romans and Corinthians.
None of your accusers is righteous though
– amongst them are many two-leftfooters
who can guess the skeletons in their cupboards?

Domeabra, when you were buried,
that day, that very day, I bathed with palmwine
And ripped my heart into shreds of reed
(I ripped it bleeding with hands of gorilla)
But, sorry, I couldn’t have joined you in the grave.

Domeabra, look, when you die again,
let them bury you where you would die
because no piece of land repels a corpse.
Humans may fail or pretend therefore
but earth is a kind keeper of us all.

Author Profile - Darko Antwi

Biography:

Darko Antwi was born in Kumasi in May 1976. After his secondary education at Bekwai Seventh Day Adventist, he taught in local kindergarten and primary schools from 1997 - 2002. He served as a columnist for African Echo newspaper from 2007 until 2009.

In 2000 Antwi co-founded Ashanti Writers Association. Eight years later, he developed the concept of Miss Akoto Education for the Ahenkro Literature Foundation, a charitable organization founded in honour of his great uncle.

During the Emancipation Day 2006 at Cape Coast, Antwi’s epic, Nkrabea, was adapted for recitation. Two of his eventful titles, Cyberfutriphobia and Slogans of Hope, have had successful broadcast at native radio stations. In August 2007, Ayekoo! appeared in The Voice, Britain’s major black newspaper. Since its first publication, Ayekoo! has been assembled among a cabinet of honorarium at Marcus Garvey Library, London.

Two of Antwi's poems have recently been published at Phillis Wheatley Chapter.

Five Questions with Darko Antwi:

1. This is your second poem of yours featured on our site. The first, "Apology to Witches" was highly structured (in couplets, with a refrain). This one is less so, and yet (with the exception of one line) it is still regimented into five-line stanzas. What is it that draws you to such formal devices? Is there something about the appearance of physical unity on the page that is attractive to you?

Yeah, trying my hand on even stanzas has more to do with physical unity. I find it attractive, and helpful for memorising. However I try not to restrict all my poems under its coop. I do some 'free-range' as well, where need be.


2. Of your last poem, Adjei Agyei-Baah noted that he was drawn to the poem "because it's not meant for relaxation, but instead is meant to cause people to change their ways in order to see the change that they have long been looking for." It could be argued that a similar assessment could be made of "The burial of Saint Domeabra". Do you agree with such an assessment of your work? Is "relaxation" one or your aims, even if not a primary one?

I remember... I thought well of Adjei Agyei-Baah's remarks on the previous title. If the same is to be said of the latest, I would agree, although I had meant it for readers to have a mixture of feelings. Thus, upon all the seriousness, I wish a reader would pause somewhere along the lines and have a laugh. So, in a sense, 'relaxation' is one of my aims - just that it may not or can not be achievable in every single poem, with respect to the readers' judgement.


3. You noted in your last profile that Dennis Brutus was the poet who most inspired your own writing. What is it that draws you so strongly to him - his writing, his politics, or both?

I'm glad you've mentioned Brutus. I wish I knew, but I know very little about his political life, all hinted by courtesy of tales in his writing. To put it open, I have to say that I'm not particularly drawn by his political whips, endeavours or escapades - however much I may have known by now. Even if we reduce the incidents in his writings to fiction or term his reports as untrue, I will still be left with a 'stubborn' faith in his energertic drive for the use of words. He uses them freely and persuasively.


4. You have started a new online magazine called Phillis Wheatley Chapter. What drew you to using that title?

I wanted a name that would immediately sound the bells of poetry in peoples ears. And symbolic Phillis Wheatley was the only name that could do the job of attracting readers from all the continents we're reaching out to.


5. Could you tell us more about PWC, and how our readers can become involved?

First of all, may I acknowledge that PWC drew its inspiration from OGOV, Ghanaian Book Review and Akwantuo. PWC's purpose is to promote poetry reading and its sales across the continents. And for that reason all readers of our mother magazine, OGOV, can share their ideas or comments on PWC poetry by joining us on Facebook.

Contact Darko:

darko.antwi@yahoo.co.uk

Favourite Poems of 2009

Readers' Picks:

Apology to Witches by Darko Antwi (Issue 3.41, October 10th - 16th, 2009)

Comments on Apology to Witches:

"I chose this poem because it holds a stock of lesson for every African to read. Many times we have lashed out at Europeans for being the sources of our woes. Though they can't be left out entirely, much havoc have caused by we ourselves and the writer explicitly reveals that. He pinpoints some instances where societies have come in to decide the fate of African and makes it quite satirical, compelling readers to reorganise their thoughts and assess themselves before the cast the first stone.

In a nut shell, I chose this poem because it's not meant for relaxation, but instead is meant to cause to people to change their ways in order to see the change that they long been looking for." - Adjei Agyei-Baah

"A critic and a constant on OGOV, Darko has almost single-handedly resurrected the power of analysis on OGOV. With this poem, he goes straight into the issue of projection, of blaming others for the consequences of our actions. Darko fearlessly presents the subject with the splendid couplet:

Nobody did us
We did ourselves" - Prince Mensah

Savannah Rain, West Africa by Daniela Elza (Issue 3.6, February 7th - 13th, 2009)

Comments on Savannah Rain, West Africa:

"Cinematic. Great pacing. Carries itself in 11 couplets, until the very last line. Harnesses the suddenness of a tropical storm, then slows it down so the reader can experience it as if through a stop-motion lens. It is about the Savannah's most precious and treasured element - water - and how its action shapes everything else." - L.S. Mensah

"Brilliant. Brilliant. And I want to say this again." - Martin Egblewogbe

For my Husband, an Educated Fool by Nana Yeboaa (Issue 3.23, June 6th - 12th, 2009)

Comments on For my Husband, an Educated Fool:

"Nana Yeboaa just said what so many women would like to say but can't... " - Mariska Taylor-Darko

"I like this poem because it channels the frustrations of women who are caught up in the constant redefinitions of love within and outside a race. It is about the travails in the exposure of familiarity to a terrain of new options. There is a theme akin to the central one in "Things Fall Apart" - the center cannot hold because a new reality has risen on horizons of heritage." - Prince Mensah

Zimbabwe by Prince Mensah (Issue 3.44, October 31st - November 6th, 2009)

Comments on Zimbabwe:

""Zimbabwe" is a beautifully crafted poem in which Prince explores the ideas of place-naming, identity, and boundaries. He does this with a melodic voice, carrying the reader through the politics of Zimbabwe with seeming effortlessness." - Marta Taylor

"The struggle continues, a bold moving poem Prince." - Ivor W. Hartmann

Staff Picks:

Why Birds Sing by L.S. Mensah (Issue 3.37, September 12 - 18th, 2009)

Comments on Why Birds Sing:

"L.S. is a treasure. She writes with such probing ability that just one read of her poem is an injustice to the love of poetry. She commands attention from her readers with her style and manages to present language in a bouquet of beautiful images - here's a prophecy: L S will become one of Ghana's top poets. Mark this on the wall." - Prince Mensah

""Why Birds Sing" is my favourite poem published on OGOV in 2009. L.S. Mensah's attention to form and to sound is admirable. Like Edith Faalong in 2008, L.S. has arrived in full form. We can only hope that 2010 will bring us new poets of similar talent - and of course more work from L.S.!" - Rob Taylor

Pantoum #4 by Van G. Garrett / Fui Koshi (Issue 3.35, September 1st - 4th, 2009)

Comment on Pantoum #4:

""Pantoum #4" is from Van's "Snaps of Ghana" series, which ran on OGOV throughout August and into early September. "Snaps of Ghana", featuring Van's photographs and poems from his travels throughout Ghana, was the first time we focused an entire month on the work of one poet, and was a great success. With or without the rest of the series for support, "Pantoum #4" is a strong poem, utilizing its form to reinforce its themes of relaxation and contemplation." - Rob Taylor

Interregnum by L.S. Mensah (Issue 3.45, November 7th - 13th, 2009)

Comment on Interregnum:

"What an apt poem! The beauty of being is on display in this poem. This is juxtaposed with the bleak sense of emptiness with laughter-morsels with Brother Silence. L.S. Mensah just gave Zimbabweans a gift, a still picture of existence, a reportage on reality. This poem showcases a poet who is observant of the past, present and future in a single passing moment." - Prince Mensah