In Memoriam: Poetry By Ndeley Mokoso

A SALUTE TO MOUNT FAKO

I stand at the salute
my right hand aloft and my head salaamed
to the great Olympus of West Africa
the colossus, citadel and sanctuary of the Bakweri-men of old
from the daring exploits of early despots in the name of
explorers and patriarchs
substituting native despotism for white civilization
and bringing Christendom into heathendom
from the traffickers of black gold
from the ruthless Hun with his sticks spitting out fire and death
the pogrom of a hostile and stubborn race
the rape of a people by a people
But KUVA LIKENYE stood his ground in complete defiance of the carnage
the hero of his emasculated people
and you roared, shook and fumed in wrath
belched out smoke, fire and brimstone
The terrestrial brotherhood scampered in panic and pitched
their bastion in Douala
but that was a long, long time ago
before my father's father
But there you are ! Moli mo FAKO! LAIR OF IFASA MOTO!
bulwark of ages
still dominating the scene
indomitable, majestically dormant
the Giant Pyramid of West Africa
I salute! I salute you!

Winner of the 1995 Cameroon National Poetry Award

CHILDHOOD MEMORIES OF THE STORYTELLER

As the harvest moon showed her full face
Shedding her beauty and enchantment all around
Setting the scene for MAITO KALEE (1)
We squatted on the brown dust in rapt attention
Spellbound by the legends of long, long ago
About the antics and fortunes of IKULE-KULE (2)
Of the fleet-footed ISELE-NYAME (3)
Of YOMA NDENE (4) the mythical ogre
From whose bowels mankind disgorged
How we huddled in awe and fright!
As Mola Mbole spunned yarn after yarn
Watching us with gleeful delight
His eyes twinkling like fire-flies on a moonless night
Then he would send us into fits and guffaws
Putting on a provocative grimace now and then
And mimicking guttural noises from the animal kingdom
And he would go on and on and on
And we would go nodding, nodding and nodding
And our eyelids would go drooping, drooping and drooping
At last we were all sleeping, sleeping and sleeping
"Are you listening children?"
No answer
"Now, where did I stop? Can anyone tell me?:
No reply
We were all asleep and snoring, snoring and snoring.

1982

1. story time
2. the tortoise
3. the hare
4. mythical ogre

BAKWERI LAND EXPROPRIATION

They say my forbears bartered away their homeland
for heads of tobacco and kegs of rum and gunpowder
that they scanned the horizon and with the sweep of the hand
alienated their birthright
What a thing to say!
but it's all foolish talk! blasphemous gibberish!
The Hun slithered in sheepskin wielding the Book of Books
bigots and merchant men, all exporting salvation and civilization
into heathendom
desecrating MBANDOS where the souls of my ancestors slept
the avowed systematic emasculation that pitched-forked
Bakweri clans along the mountain slopes
The plantations sprouted like toadstools
rubber, cocoa, bananas, palms... that live to this day
But the expropriation persists, long after the Hun's ignoble exit
they now say it's "A NO MAN'S LAND"!
I say this is pious fraud! scandalous filibustering!
and I think the land-sharks must be told
that no thumb-printed covenant exists to buttress the status quo
Muuff! Fie! FIE!

THE THIRD COMING

The third coming
Will it be trumpeted or trumped up?
Will they parade with their dirty feet?
Dirty, not even with their socks and shoes on?
With cupboards full of skeletons? I dare them hurl the first stone
Ah! not again!
the blind leading the blindfolded
who've shamefully maltreated freedom by the box
exiled justice till judgment day
mediocrity turning its arse to reason
and greed parading shamelessly her filthy lucre!
armoured by strutting yahoos flexing fire sticks
But where are they?
the no nonsense mobs of the rising storm?
whose clarion heralded the new hope?
Was it a case of drowned wills?
or only the desire of each to excel?
hopeful that TIME will do the winnowing?
Who says civic lirtues haven't declined
or the uncivilised ire to banish senile ruling barons, the
tin gods and their puppet orators?
For me, I can't see any blossoms of hope at tunnel's end
Dear. God, when and where will it all end:

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