...must not the head of the vates be
severed so that he may continue to
sing?
Must not the self be destroyed before
a
new being can be born?
-
Chant of Saints
for the Villager
When
Okonkwo committed suicide
we
refused to touch the body
that
was impure. Left it to
the
vultures and crows carry on
with
the Pacification rites
and
we drove on to the hills of Taworakawa
and
Rewai, where sidelong lofty glances
were
cast at the now emptied fields
and
at men that grope along the veins
of
rivers that flow back. Heard yarns circle
then,
as crows do after high savannah fires
above
the head of a certain “madding crowd”
and
we looked out for signs of appeasement
in
the wings of raven sailing the wind
farther
across the blue of the morning
Mornings
never felt fresher then: sunlight
on
ridges, the women gathered: with pots
baskets,
and wood: and twigs; and leaves
that
in cities once
spoke
of villagers betrayed, were gathered
also;
at the fires of our offerings –
This
poem published upon the request of 50 literature students at the University of
Papua New Guinea in protest against the sacking of the Storyboard by the
Weekender editor of the National newspaper, the worst of atrocities done
against a writer by an individual for no other reason than to express a
personal grudge of hatred against that writer. In sacking the Storyboard the
editor sacked the soul of the nation.
See also STORYBOARD SACKED!
