Lately, I have been on an African literature frenzy. One because I am proud to be Ghanaian and secondly because I never had the opportunity to read these works when I lived in Ghana. I remember my friends always talking about The Baby Sitter Club written by Ann M. Martin there were so many of them . I read only a few (more like 5) because I did not know where to purchase them and also because I was a lazy reader. I was more about running around in the sand and playing ampe (see games girls play in Ghana). I am rather sad that I am only hearing about people like Ama Ata Aidoo now...and I am in America. Sadly people will continue to read books by Ann M. Martin and the Aidoo's and the Emecheta's and the Adichie's would not be discovered yet. (So you're asking about Achebe? You already know about him or?)
Well back to my frenzy. I believe these women write beautifully. They invite me into their own traditional worlds and this makes me miss home miserably.I'm sharing this poem because it is by Ama Ata Aidoo and it helps me think deeply about how the African continent is perceived. I honestly appreciate the works of Achebe but I also believe women like Aidoo should be celebrated.
Because
you are here
to remind me to be grateful to
- it must be The Lord –
for small mercies,
I shall not
wail
shave my hair or
do another fasting trip at the dawn of a
day that has put more bile on my tongue.
But Child,
out there where
our thousands are dying and
our millions
do not have food to
choose to eat or
not,
how does one tell the story of men
who are nothing at all, and
leaders who are only
skilled in the art of anti-people treachery?
Child,
I hear you: and since
wisdom
does not always grow with our grey hairs,
may be,
you can tell me
what to do with
my shame, and
Our Continent once more
betrayed?
No comments:
Post a Comment