Palapala Magazine

Papalapala Magazine #8: Tori Long Time Short

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In Memoriam: Mbella Sonne Dipoko - The Bard Who Dared To Be Different

By Dibussi Tande

Mbella Sonne Dipoko, one of the leading first generation Cameroonian writers and, without doubt, the most internationally recognized Anglophone writer, died on December 5, 2009 in his hometown of Tiko. His death not only leaves a huge void on the Cameroonian literary landscape, but also marks the end of a most storied and colorful life that began 73 years ago on the banks of the River Mungo and continued through the Southern Cameroons, Nigeria, Europe and then back to the banks of the Mungo. 

Dipoko began writing very early on in his life. In 1960, he left for France at age 24, after a brief stint as an accounts clerk with the Cameroon Development Corporation and a news reporter for the Nigerian Broadcasting Corporation.

Petit Pays: Nudity and the King

Kangsen Feka Wakai

Petit Pays owned the nineties.  And if he didn't own the entire decade, then he owned the most significant part of it.  And if he didn't own the airwaves, he certainly owned sidewalk speakers and dance floors.  The 'matinee' generation would come of age dancing to the sounds of  'Nioxxer', 'Maria' and 'Polissy'. 

If Lapiro de Mbanga stormed through the gates of censorship in Cameroonian popular music in the mid-eighties with his abrasive diatribes against the socio-political order, then Petit Pays widened those walls with lyrics that were at once irreverent and suggestive.  His were songs that were layered with  innuendos, social commentary and were meant to provoke.  

Music - Rumba on the River

V. Muna Kangsen

For decades, the music emanating from the Democratic Republic of Congo and its neighbor and musical rival, the Republic of Congo, has dominated African airwaves and record charts influencing artists from across the continent, who in turn borrowed generously from its aesthetics.

Generally referred to simply as “Congolese”, the popular music of both Congos evolved against a backdrop tampered by the vicissitudes of colonialism, Western-backed military dictatorships, as well as civil wars, which saw the deposal of Mobutu in Congo-Kinshasa and the return of Sassou Nguesso in Brazzaville.

Film, Darwish and Palestine: An Interview with Hadeel Assali

Kangsen Feka Wakai interviews Hadeel Assali, a Palestinian-American cultural activist and founder of the Houston Palestinian Film Festival.

KFW: You were very involved in initiating the Houston Palestine Film Festival, which offers an American/non-Palestinian audience a glimpse of the Palestinian experience from a creative point of view.  How would you assess its impact so far, and to what extent can art play a role in articulating the aspirations of the Palestinian people?

HA: Palestine has been a taboo “controversial” topic for far too long, including in the arts/culural realm. When I was a university student about 10 years ago, it was considered offensive to even utter the word “Palestine.” It was almost considered a threat; we were expected to refer instead to the “Palestinian territories” – this is what happened with Palestinian director Hany Abu-Assad’s film “Paradise Now” just a few years ago.

It was the first Palestinian film to be nominated for an Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film, but could not be submitted under “Palestine” (and was instead submitted under “Palestinian Territories”).

Clara Angelina Diaz on Color, Om and Self

Conceptualization
My approach to conceptualization can be attributed to what some call God, a higher self, Om, higher order or Divine energy. The name of the source is not that important, but the process of conscious connection with it, has been of utmost importance in my life. At the beginning of my artistic journey I found it impossible to explain why I drew what I drew or painted what I painted because during that time I was not consciously in touch with the source of self and creation. In order to mentally conceptualize my creations and verbally explain them, I have adopted two different processes which after some time reverse themselves. 

Our Fate as Writers: Thorns on our Chosen Path

By Dipita Kwa

Sirri was preparing to confront her parents in order to convince them that she wasn’t vulnerable as much as her uncle had made them believe.  Then all of a sudden, like a silly dog, her treacherous mind dug up the story Granny told them yesterday about a young author. 

This guy thought he had a few international achievements in creative writing after his short stories were published in several online magazines; a published novel, but most of all his being published among the worlds Literary Greats in an anthology of short stories.  But not even up to a handful of his countrymen knew he wrote stories even though he lived and worked there. 

Ekechi - A Short Story

Shandie Shing Avwontom

A faint, first only slightly perceptible sound sauntered through the half open door into the stillness of the room from the corridor outside. Then distinctly; feet shuffling. I can’t say for how long I had remained in a stupor but the noise brought me back to my senses instantly: “Oh my God” I prayed, “Ekechi!” I murmured under my breath and sucked my teeth. Stories of rape victims swirling in my mind, I whirled my feet one after the other in an arch to the floor and with my heart clocking overtime, dashed out of the room. There was no one in the corridor.  It was getting to dawn. I threw open Ekechi’s room door without a thought of knocking. She was already dressing up. The bewildered poor thing snatched a towel and held it to her chest, in vain. She stared at me questioningly. I asked her if everything was okay and quickly realised she was unaware of what had happened.

The Poetry of JKS Makokha

I. Kilos of Bones

How many bones will it take
to construct our very own
towering statue of liberty?

How many kilos of bones,
pure white primatish stones,
will it really honestly take?

How many for a national statue
far FAR taller than that of Kimathi
or Jomo on their thrones of stone?

How many for a statue so high
that it crests the towering rooftop
of our colonial capital city’s centre?

Poetry - Speak Camerounais

By Peter W. Vakunta

I will not parler français at home.
Je ne parlerai point French on the school grounds.
I will not speak French avec mes copains…
I will not speak French with mes camarades de classe…
I will not speak français tout court.
Hello! Ils ne sont pas bêtes, ces Anglos!
Après maintes reprises, ça commenc à pénétrer dans leurs têtes de cochon!
Dans n’importe quel esprit.
ça fait mal;
ça fait honte;
ça agace!
Et on ne speak pas French dans les carabets de matango.
Ni dans les gares routières.
Ni anywhere else non plus.
On ne sait jamais avec ces conasses de froggies!
D’ailleurs, qui me donne cette autorité de crier à tue-tête?
D’écrire ces sacrées lignes?
Peu m’importe!

The Poetry of Dzekashu MacViban

Genesis
І

The unsteady familiar rhythm of known voices
Like some haunting siren song suffocates
My thoughts. Deep within the darkness of
The cave lies a punctured genesis.
With two voices piercing each other
I watched the changing scenes
And, in pure macho fashion, the rib was silenced.

Photo Essay - Sankofa: Caravan to the Ancestors

Galveston, Texas, 2009

Mbella Sonne Dipoko - An Eulogy by Prof. Isidore Okpewho

I am very saddened by the news of Mbella's death. When I heard many years ago that he had returned from Europe to his village to stay, I continually nursed the hope that one day I would meet him again. Sadly, it was not to be.

My personal knowledge of Mbella goes back to 1966. After graduating from Ibadan, I had spent one year (1965-66) in London training as a publisher with my employers, Longman. At the end of the period, Longman gave me a one-month European holiday which took me through France, Italy, and Greece and back to Italy for my return trip to Nigeria. For my stay in Paris I was introduced to Mbella, whose novel A FEW NIGHTS AND DAYS had just been published by Longman. I spent my three or four days in Paris with Mbella in his digs, whose location I cannot now recall.

The Dipoko I Knew

By Francis Wache

In 1990, the maiden edition of Cameroon Life carried an interview with Anglophone Cameroon’s foremost novelist, Mbella Sonne Dipoko.

It was a scintillating interview. I asked the interviewer, late Denis Ngala, if he could fix an appointment for me with the iconic Dipoko. Ngala accepted.

And, so, one day I found myself in Tiko. Ngala ushered me into Dipoko’s residence. Dipoko, swathed in a flowing white shirt and sanja (loin cloth) rose and stretched out his hand. Reverentially, I squeezed the proffered hand. Then, we sat down. And the conversation flowed. We talked about everything and nothing. Since I was awed with meeting the Big Man, I spoke sparingly. Ngala, on the other hand, was garrulous and jocular. They bantered freely.

A Tribute To Mbella Sonne Dipoko, the Bard of the Creeks

By Lyombe Eko

A literary Bombax tree has fallen in the dark, rainforest of Cameroon! Writers never really die. They just put down their pens. Mbella Sonne Dipoko lives in the lives and memories of his family, his friends, and his many fans. He contributed to the reading pleasure of millions of people all over the world. Mbella Sonne Dipoko lives in the minds of all those who read his work and became better people for having done so. I never met Mbella Sonne Dipoko in peron but when I was a struggling man, a youngster in the impoverished doldrums of life in the rainforest of Cameroon,I met him through his work.  The eccentric writer made me dream; dream of transcending poverty and want and injustice.  If Mbella Sonne Dipoko could rise from the constricting creeks and grinding poverty of Tiko and Mungo to become a global literary figure, I too could build something on my empty lot in life.

Mbella Sonne Dipoko - Tributes in Verse

1. Sleep Well Mbella Sonne Dipoko By Dante Besong
 
As the sun rises from the east, shining bright on all,
So does it set in the west, bringing dusk to the land
Mount Fako is shaken; the night's come too soon
Epasa Moto's in tears, where is Chief Dipoko?
 
You took us aback as you suddenly went to sleep
You made your mark, the literary world can attest
Truly, inspiring people don't have to live too long
Like the morning dew, they disappear by mid-day
Leaving the surroundings fresh and cool
 
You've gone beyond to join your comrades
Together you'd relate in the sphere of poetry
But who are we to understand the mystery of the Divine one?
He gives and He takes, He puts together and asunder
But we are a reflection of His creativity.
 
To create is to live, though absent, you live through your writings.
It is your time to rest, Sleep well Mbella Sonne Dipoko.

Not That It Really Matters…But It Does! (For Chief Mbella Sone Dipoko)

By JK Bannavti

JK Bannavti with Mbella Sonne Dipoko at a book launch in Yaounde - Oct. 31, 1990

It really does not matter that you became Chief;
You were Chief born in ink to cleanse society of filth.
It really does not matter that you swam in flowing wrappers;
That was your sackcloth for the death of shrimps and crabs.
It really does not matter that you spotted a white shirt over the wrappers;
You could not help a smile though the prawns were turning belly –up.

Mbella Sonne Dipoko : Une vie bien remplie

 Ecrit par Maurice Simo Djom (Le Jour)

L'écrivain, peintre, homme politique, chef traditionnel et fondateur de religion est décédé à Tiko samedi à l'âge de 73 ans.

Il ne croyait pas à Copenhague. Une foire bien futile, disait-il en évoquant ce rendez-vous "folklorique". Il savait, du moins il avait la ferme conviction, au-delà du tapage bon teint sur l'engagement écologique,  que ce sommet accoucherait d'une souris et que les pays riches s'en retourneraient décidés plus que jamais à  détruire la planète par leurs industries "de travers". Cet engagement,  Mbella Sonne Dipoko l'a noté en noir et blanc sur un papier trois jours avant de mourir. C'était sous la forme d'un poème publié par nos confrères du trihebdomadaire d'expression anglaise The Post.

Copenhagen - Mbella Sonne Dipoko's Last Poem

Mbella Sonne Dipoko wrote this poem three days before his death and it was published in the same issue of The Post Newspaper that announced his passing six days later.

It was foretold long ago
That after Noah's deluge
The next destruction of the world
Would be by fire
And can't you feel the heat building up already,
The global warming up?
 
And so to fulfill the prophecy
Copenhagen is going to be
Just some more hot air
Presaging the sparks that would turn
Into the flames in which the world will be consumed
And then out of the ashes of ecocide capitalism
It won't be Christ on His second coming presiding
On Judgment Day
But Karl Marx returning like a revolutionary phoenix
Out of the ashes of the busting bubbles
Of the lopsided economies
Of our over-heated world

Palapala Magazine # 7: cEaven

Abuja: The City of Poets

Denja Abdullahi

The dream of the City called Abuja started with the foresighted decision of the short-lived General Murtala Mohammed’s regime in 1976 to move the capital of Nigeria from the congested port-city of Lagos to a place in the geographical centre of Nigeria, amenable and conducive for the development of a brand-new capital city.

Dearth and Death: The Growing Lacuna in Cameroon Anglophone Literary Criticism and Debate

Wirndzerem G. Barfee

"It is to subsume and transcend the instant;  to open vast horizons of the not-yet, [to me that is] the function of cultural criticism and of critical theory because art cannot thrive in the absence of a strong critical theory tradition" Achille Mbembe

Of late there has been increasing reason to fear that the aberrant is happening in present Anglophone Cameroon literary landscape. This pathology finds unsettling symptoms in the expanding lacuna of silence that is settling our critical space. There is a growing apathy towards our own literary productions, and it is characterized by a shouting and disturbing absence of criticism, reviews and debate on the recent works by new and old authors.

Travel Diary: A Journey into the Heart of South Africa’s Frontier Country

By Dibussi Tande

“The Route will remind you that you are travelling through an extraordinary country, chiselled out of the horrors of racial and social dispossession to become a dynamic monument to human dignity.” Makana Pocket Guide.

After a grueling 18 hour journey from Chicago to Johannesburg where I spent the night, I boarded a South African Airways flight bound for the Indian Ocean port city of Port Elizabeth in the Eastern Cape Province.

Port Elizabeth was founded in 1820 as a gateway for the 4000 British settlers, the so-called 1820 settlers, who were brought in by the British government in a bid to strengthen the crown’s grip on the Cape Colony’s strife-torn eastern frontier – the Frontier Country – where the Xhosas were violently resisting British occupation of their lands – In 1996, Nelson Mandela described the settlers as "Pawns in a larger game" who "were nevertheless caught up on the wrong side of history, unable or unwilling to acknowledge as equals those into whose homeland they had been implanted." From 1779 to 1879, the British and the Xhosa’s fought nine Frontier Wars which left an indelible mark on modern South Africa.

The Ramifications of Linguistic Innovation in African Literature: An Interview with Patrice Nganang

Peter Wuteh Vakunta, PhD.

A versatile  award-winning novelist, Patrice Nganang has written works that have left  an indelible mark on the international literary landscape. With the publication of Temps de chien (2001), a novel that was recognized with two noteworthy awards—the Marguerite Yourcenar Prize and the Grand Prix de la  littérature de l’Afrique Noire—he emerged as a writer noted for his innovative use of the French language.  In the interview that follows Nganang sheds light on some of the  attributes that make him tick as a creative writer.

Help Wanted for the Awesome Task of Bringing Smiles

Kangsen Feka Wakai

 We are a global multi-service agency seeking highly skilled, motivated—with emphasis on ‘motivated’— and peripatetic individuals who can embark on the comfort induced, guilt cleansing, feel-good, but nevertheless pompous task of saving and illuminating a massive chunk of real estate with excess resources and not enough commonsense for its own good.

 We are an equal opportunity employer and will not hire individuals based on a candidate's race, age, sexual orientation, profession, gender, hair length or national origins: so it makes little difference if you are from Leopold's Belgium, Biya's Cameroon, Obama's America or Delamare's Kenya.  Charitable people of the world, you are encouraged to apply.

We the People [an excerpt]

Joyce Ashuntantang

INT. TIKU’S COUSIN’S HOUSE – “DIE HOUSE” SCENE - NIGHT

PEOPLE are singing from printed song books, WOMEN/GIRLS come in with food and MEN/BOYS come in with drinks.

An elderly person, PA JOE, stands up to talk.

Henry's Hypothesis

Dami Ajayi

Before the unfortunate event of my death, I was a mathematician, so you can figure out my love for symbols, formulas, and numbers. But before I came to love symbols, I loved life. And before I loved life, I loved God.

I was even convinced back then, that Adam couldn’t match me when it came to communing with God. But that was once; a long time ago. Before I became deaf to God, or God became silent. Anyways, you never can really tell with just one perspective of any account. Objectivity is not mans’ greatest forte.

The Poems of Koonta Kyntee

Robben Island little Lecture

In the of eye-numbing darkness
He did not curse the obscurity;
Lit a flame and fanned it,
To warm the disabling cold despair
Of the ever growing destitutes.
Countless winds failed to blow out that flame
So we ask
" What in the world gives a man
The right to subject life to subjugation?”
You are the Piet Botha of aspiration in a generation of forward-thinking,
Trouble-shunning Nkosi Sikeleli Africa."
He is the reason Soweto kept hope.
He is the thought that kept faith alive.

Robben Island little Lecture

In the of eye-numbing darkness
He did not curse the obscurity;
Lit a flame and fanned it,
To warm the disabling cold despair
Of the ever growing destitutes.
Countless winds failed to blow out that flame
So we ask
" What in the world gives a man
The right to subject life to subjugation?”
You are the Piet Botha of aspiration in a generation of forward-thinking,
Trouble-shunning Nkosi Sikeleli Africa."
He is the reason Soweto kept hope.
He is the thought that kept faith alive.

Sonnets from Maroua

By Oscar C. Labang

“God Fatherism”

II
Let they that know not
Confess their emptiness
And seek the reticent god
The rapture comes with bitterness.

Let they that have roots
(The dry season will be long)
Prepare for the time - new moods
Know you have to survive to belong.

Abuja: Phase 1 and 2

Denja Abdullahi

Phase One

Abuja was a land of promise
A virgin with variants of delights
She whispered sitting a top rocky plains
And called on far-flung pilgrims
To come

worship the new totem of power.
They came with tall dreams and hopes
Melting into corridors in grand edifices
Pushing without care into nature and nurture
While the natives moved further into the bush.

Abuja became a city of dreams
Of skyscrapers, long winding roads and flyovers,
Of bureaucrats and contractors.
Abuja became the Geneva of Africa
A city of endless talk shops and conventions
Where people brainstorm over insoluble problems,
Yet the bliss must go on.

Dante's Corner: Ali Ben Bongo Meets Paul Biya

Announcement: Seminar on Sankie Maimo - 11th and 12th of December 2009

Venue: Department of African Literature and Civilisations, University of Yaounde 1

That Anglophone Cameroonian literature is gradually and forcefully putting its name in the African literary landscape is indisputable. This can be seen in the critical and creative attention that has been given to this literature by both home and foreign critics. However, we notice that the pioneers of this literature, like Sankie Maimo, seem to go unnoticed by critics.

Sankie Maimo’s work happens to be among the first that could be read as Cameroonian literature in English at the time when flourishing Nigerian writers like Chinua Achebe and Wole Soyinka were also making their debut. His return to Cameroon as a Civil Servant at the Ministry of External Relations did not stop him from continuing in creative writing. What can then be the reason for the lack of critical interest in Maimo’s works? We seek to answer this question on the days of the seminar on Sankie Miamo.

(Announcement) Introducing the 1st Annual MyAfricanDiaspora.com SHORT STORY COMPETITION

In our ongoing effort to promote positive images that reflect people of African descent, the website that connects that African Diaspora is pleased to announce our first annual Short Story contest.

We're looking for fiction that is unique, stories with characters we'll remember, plots that leave us thinking. The contest is open to anyone, any race, any country, any continent. The only caveat? The main character must be of African descent.

Palapala # 6 - Windpipes and Tremulous Tunes

Editorial: A Year Later…

This issue of Palapala magazine marks our first anniversary in existence.

Tolu Ogunlesi, one of our most diligent supporters and a recent nominee of the CNN multichoice African journalist of the year award, attends a Marechera conference in Oxford, and talks to those who knew and were impacted by the writer.

Dibussi Tande, a Palapala magazine editorial team member, reminds us that birds can soar with clipped wings in his response to Patrice Nganang’s essay on Anglophone Cameroon literature published on his blog, Scribbles from the Den. The debate continues…

In this issue, we also pay tribute to Bate Besong, the Obasinjom Warrior.

Soaring with “Clipped Wings”: Anglophone Cameroon Literature on the Move

By Dibussi Tande

In a recent article on state sponsored “literature apartheid” in Cameroon, Patrice Nganang warned against what he perceived to be attempts by Anglophone writers to create a distinct minority “Anglophone Cameroon literature” separate from mainstream Cameroonian literature. He argued that this approach would confine Cameroon literature in English in an anonymous literary ghetto. He urged Anglophone Cameroon writers “to understand that their minority perspective restricts them into local hero Authors, not readable beyond Anglophone schools in our country and on CRTV”.

Bate Besong: Lyrical Insurgent

Kangsen Feka Wakai

Bate Besong became a presence in my life very early on. He taught two of my older brothers in CPC Bali after he returned to Cameroon from university in Nigeria. 

BB’s verbiage and antics would come home with them on holidays, along with their worn bodies and massive loads of musty laundry.

BB and my mother will eventually work, on at least one occasion, at the same GCE Center. He frequented the Ministry of Education in Yaounde when she worked there in the late eighties.

Marechera for Beginners

Tolu Ogunlesi

I don’t hate being black. I’m just tired of saying it’s beautiful.

Such are the kinds of statements one would expect from Dambudzo Marechera – fresh, startling, utterly subversive. I do not recall when I first came across his name, but what I do know is this: that his life has fascinated me so much that I could probably reel off a quite comprehensive biography of him from memory.

So when I heard that there would be a Dambudzo Marechera celebration at Oxford University in the middle of May 2009, it didn’t take me long to make up my mind I was going to attend. 

Letter to the Editor[s] (A note for your writers)

Kangsen Feka Wakai

When you write about me, all you write about me is what you know about me, what you’ve been taught and what you believe is true of me.  Then you actually take the time, which by the way is very precious to you, to jot lines and paragraphs describing in graphic detail what you truly believe to be my reality.  You weave narrations, cite instances, decipher plots and write my story on my behalf.  And you always have facts and figures to back them. They never fail. Anyways what would they be without facts and figures?  Aren’t you a vibraphone and proponent of reason? 

Omar Bongo - The Grim Ripper Comes Calling