Author: Adigwe Angela Chidinma
Publisher: Redletter Crib signature
Reviewer : Sonny Kaku
Year of Publication: 2021
Genre: Poetry
We all love to read words with kinesis and let the cadence ferment like grapes in our sensibilities – and we also love to dig into poems that do not only take us down memory lanes but are poignant and laden with meanings that bind us to seasons, moments and history.Words that plunge us into unknown straits of emotions. The blocks of life are made of different dimensions of specificity and layers of unfolding crusts of words. Angela’s enunciations in the poem, Meadow of womanhood, exposes what it means to be a woman in this present world and the avalanche of responsibilities a woman has to bear. This was emphasised in the poem , meadow of womanhood.
Meadow of womanhood
Oil on hips,
under a silvery moon,
this life is dimpled with chores
drowning in the angst of time
dip your body as a griddle for the contentions of desires
endowed with sonorous calves
a swing like ducks to the whoosh
whoosh of ebullient frames
shallows after deep strokes beside all forbidden and blatant places
your hands on the balustrade of duties
body against the stairs
it is your duty to soak him in
feel the fragrance of those simmering breath
the callous hands that clips your thighs to sounds in hyperventilation
here we have come to the pyre of reason
Your hands backwards to take thrust like the rubbing coins for heat as a chain
come rain, come shine
the showers keep running and running
yet nothing keeps your own life out of the fray of wanting to care for others
pots on the heads of young lads slicing their ways through the alleyways of men
their licentious gaze and creasing lips
mouth sodden with words but drained of the impetus to proffer meanings,
here is your lot in the room of life
to tend all guests and still find a corner to tend your soul,and like a confluence of clear running waters you keep your charm flowing to the forelimbs of Nations.
In the poem, Bleeding, Adigwe touched on the critical discourse that is seldom touched and always withdrawn from – which is the experiences of most women in during their periods. She calls for scientific research to find possible solutions or relief for women during this often discomforting periods where women have to take a particular diet or change plans to salve the demands of the critical period.
Time differential,
a sprawl on the inflatable bed amidst chores
Not knowing how the thief breaks through those ports,
a fearsome knots of gelatinous substance
Marking X on calendars
an inconvenience to all preconceived
engagements,
you slip back to the first day of visitation
there was no knocks
just a cold slither of liquid
and the blood that trailed your toes,
a shawl towed your scampering
you sat like a kitten in contact with a fox
then the school bell rings,
this curdled wool of red solution
intercepting your gait
a reign of entropy in your soul
till you flung the sweater at home
and your mother welcomes you to the
hub of womanhood and spelt the perils of being caught off guards or a boy crossing in between leg;
she patted your back and served you something hot with chillies and soursop
the night wore and your father still barked orders at you unaware of your pain
you curled on your bed and wish the pain will grind to still and after so many days,
you bore the pain with anticipations,
a prepared bowl for tears and a seared heart to welcome the rauocus pangs.
The poet described the period as a gelatinous substance, a sincere description of the uncomfortable substance made of unferitilzed eggs and the irony of her father still barking orders at her, means a lot of men, rather than wear a stiffened face, should learn to tend to the inconveniences of their daughters and always be supportive during those excruciating times. Mothers should be cautioned not to trivialise the processes of these children and their encounters during this period and should also shun unnecessary threats and spurious facts about men around them. All they need is education about their biology and not a narrative twisting their minds against men.
In the last poem in this eclectic collection, happy feet, the persona in the poem asked her audience to have a positive response to the happenings around them. She reminds us of the quote that it is not the water around the ship that sinks it but the water that found a way of trickling into the ship. Even the Titanic was sunk by ounces of water aboard.
We outside
You wipe your brows
your mind runs amok like a warehouse
rife with bills and mails and work stations,
your head is a shipping centre,
sailing minds and containers of worry about tomorrow,
a sad sticker stuck to the information centre,
a call chimed through your phone
a text flashed again
your valves cringe at the litany of omissions
In your works and expectations,
Bob Marley’s song came blaring off a co worker’s phone held together with multiple rubber bands,
His feet stomping to the melody of the song
like a rock artiste
you remembered the 95 theses of Martin Luther,
you know you should not lose your head
conjure your happy feet at the behest of a hopeful mien,
hit those studs against the floor and let the happy hour begin.
Purring through all the pages of the poems of Adigwe will make you sit at the edge of your seat and be enthralled by the flip and esoteric use of language; and this jewel of a piece from the smithy of a fine poet should be read across borders. Angela reminds me of the writings of Rumi and Bernadine Evaristo.
The sapience and sentience of their evocations will drown anyone in the sobriety of their works. This work is propulsive, generous and redemptive.
