Journey to a Farm on a Lake in Cameroon (A Poem by Viola Allo)

Heaven is a strange place,
I don't want to go there.
I do not think it is the place
Where my ancestors have gone.

When I die, I would like
My spirit, if worthy,
To wander silently
Back to the lighted City on the Lake.

For my soul, there will be
Fire-scorched hills and mountains to cross;
Dense forests and grasslands to contend with;
Wild animals and evil spirits to placate.

But when every ritual has been performed,
My spirit will reside in the depths
Of undisturbed water, asleep by day in a green lake
Buffered by grass-padded, rolling hills.

By night, when the spirits stir to light up and take
The lake, I would like a small, thatched hut and
My own plot of land to farm, another life to live
In which to grow my own Garden of Eden.

I will have mango and papaya trees,
A dark grove of bananas and plantains,
Corn that stands taller than a grown man,
Bean plants that curl like strands of my coarse hair—

All the things that heaven cannot give
To a woman who knows the taste of a life
In which the journey toward death begins
And ends with a seed and a ridge of volcanic earth.

Postscript

This poem is an exploration of death, but it relates to hunger because it revolves around a farm and a woman's access to land on which she can grow her own food. In death, as in life, she knows that there is not much one can hold on to except the pleasure of eating the foods that one loves. What she cherishes is the ability to grow these foods, call them her own, and enjoy them. Heaven, as she envisions it, is a place that will allow her to do this.

My inspiration for this poem comes from talking with my Cameroonian father, who is an expert farmer. He is fond of reminding me that all we really own in life is what we eat. What goes into our mouths becomes a part of us. I think this poignant philosophy is of great importance when we consider the hunger that people in various parts of Africa must contend with. Access to land that they can farm and the blessing of good soil and good weather is vital to ending the plight of hunger in Africa.

Also, African women's crucial role, in their societies, as those who process food, as well their work as farmers in agricultural societies, is of unquestionable significance. One cannot talk about hunger and
food in Africa without talking about the land and the women of this continent. Thus, the desires narrated in this poem are told with a woman's voice.

These considerations form the foundation of my poem. However, I also draw inspiration for this poem from a story my father shared with me about the beliefs that we and our fellow Awing people in the North West Province of Cameroon hold to be true about the beautiful Lake Awing. It is believed that the souls of Awing people reside in this lake, and at night, they emerge to carry out the activities that they once performed when they were living. Those who farmed in life continue their sustaining work in death. This poem honors that belief.

 Viola Allo is a California-based poet and writer. She blogs at My African Father.

Comments

[Kelly Abaache]

gud n nice subject handled from a purely African perspective.In fact its a very deep drive back to our roots.Gone are the days when African writers use to display a control of this fief....alll now we see is politiswinning.Courage bros !!!!!!