My Jewel is Gone!

My jewel you’re priceless
Your loss was a slap to my face
I looked for you but you’re no more
It caused me to grieve
In a land far from home

In the land of my sojourn
You disappeared like a wild wind
Leaving me desolate and helpless
Nothing could contain my tears
The tears that flowed like the longest river

My jewel you mean so much to me
More than a million jewels
In my bitterness I turned to the divine for answers
But none was given
I turned to mortals all turned the same

My jewel I know I’ll see you again
Will see you more precious than you were
Will see you where grave has no strength
In the place where streets are full of gold
The place where we’ll sing hallelujah forever!

(c) (2013) By Success Kanayo Uchime, all rights reserved.

The Cry of African Woman

By Success Kanayo Uchime

My King you created me well
Without wrinkles nor spots
You fashioned me craftily like a master craftman
The work of your perfect hand
Then you called me virtuous

My King, but I hear a different thing today!
Am being casted upon the muds  
because of what you made me to be
A woman in the midst of wolves
And they call me worthless and cursed

My King, see how am discriminated and victimized
Like ornaments they hung stigmatization on my neck!
They say my place is in the remotest parts
And am not counted in the number
But did you make a mistake in me?

My King, you’re unmistakable and without error
And I know that you’re right
In calling me excellent and precious
And one day I’ll excel above the wolves  
Who one day will call me blessed and  praise me!

(c) (2014) By Success Kanayo Uchime, all rights reserved. 


Background of the poem

The poem is a sequel to the poet’s short story, "The King Must Hear This!" He delves into the cultural life of his African people, especially Nigeria his country. This is a culture where women are being subjugated to nothing but a mere property; a culture that sees nothing good in a woman. This is a culture where they hold that the place of a woman is in the kitchen; where a woman is heard, but not seen!

Analysis of the poem

As noted above the poet came out strongly to criticize a culture that relegates womanhood to the background. The typical African woman, who has lost every hope in a male-dominated society, turned to God - the King in tears to register her protest.

She reminded God in her prayer that He created her without "wrinkles nor spots," that's she is a perfect creature of the most high, who created her like the work of a "master craftman." The "work of your perfect hand," and after creating her, God called her virtuous - making reference to Proverbs 31, where a description of a virtuous woman is given.

The African woman said she’s hearing a different thing from what God said she is. One she is being “casted upon the muds,” which shows a state of degradation from the men whom she called “wolfs.” Second the men calls her worthless and cursed, which the woman saw as a contradiction to what God made her to be – virtuous! 

In the third stanza, she complained bitterly to God that the men have made her place to be in the “remotest parts,” far removed from the presence of men. That she is not counted in the number when families count the number of their children – in other words, she is never recognized at all in the family she found herself. 

She sought an answer from God,  if He ever made a mistake in creating her in the first instance, “but did you make a mistake in me?” To this she quickly responded that God never made a mistake, as God is “unmistakable and without error.”

The African woman did not fall into despondence, but she is full of hope that one day she’ll “excel above the wolves,” the men, who’ll one day call her blessed and also praise her for what God has created her to be – a virtuous woman!

Biafra My Biafra!

Biafra, my Biafra!

The land of the rising sun
The land of great warriors
The land my fathers dreamt for
The land my fathers cried for
The land my fathers fought for
The land my fathers died for
The land that never be!

Biafra, you were overpowered!
Overpowered by great forces never imagined
You’re desperate and eager to be born
For over three years you struggled for freedom
But you were aborted with great instruments!
As destructive as that of the physicians
Aborted by great and awesome powers
Even before you could be born

Biafra, my fathers told me of you!

In great stories I can’t ever forget
Stories told from their bitter and sad mouths
O, how your blood flowed in uplands!
They’re very brutal to you
And slaughtered you like they’ll do to Christmas goats
Your blood flowed unstopped in thick forests;
Wasted away in vain

Biafra, my Biafra, hear me as I speak!
Do you think you can surface again?
I’ve my doubts…
The great hands that aborted you like the physicians’ hands;
Still knock around ruthlessly
Knocking in desperation to stop you again
Don’t you think they’ll abort you again?
Anyway, time will tell…

(c) (2013) By Success Kanayo Uchime, all rights reserved.

Mama Africa

Mama Africa, your children are calling once again
Surprised your back’s still bent after centuries past
I was told of you by our fathers past
How you’re devastated by whips on your back
How you’re humiliated with chains on your neck
I thought by now you would’ve recovered, but no!

Mama Africa, I ask, why is your back still bent?
They that caused it are still lurking
Lurking again with renewed vigor
Where’re your great warriors?
Those that fought for your liberation
Let them come with balms to sooth you

Mama Africa, when will your back be straight again?
Your masters came with new chains
And on your necks they hung with much tears
I hear of wars unending among you
I hear of child labor among you
I hear of terrorism among you

Mama Africa, because of your master’s whip your children weep  
And they refused to be consoled 
I see unending streams running down their cheeks
They wish to see your back up again
They wish to see the warrior you’re made of
I conjure you my mother to arise from your slumber

(c) (2013) By Success Kanayo Uchime, all rights reserved.