Okigbo's Trial Poem by Gerald Kithinji

I

Hungry earthworms
Forever entombed in the bowels
Of mother earth
Awake

Defy this asceticism and prostrate
For your ultimate destiny
Lies not in the dogmatic
Steady march along beaten footpaths

Hungry earthworms
These reminiscences of plaintive cooing
They do not placate
Those dethroned, deprived spirits
Of our fallen ancestors

Ancient dejection above
Deploy your genius here
On this demesne
Extirpate this invidious trust
In the compound animal…

II

So the poor abuses of the day
Led men of talent, assiduity;
Men who command success
Into violent remonstrance.

The death storm brew
Compelling conscience to self denial
And self-sacrifice
Oh, it was sublime!
Those rare virtues
Joined bone to muscle
Together seized singular vantage
Where conscience would not
Compromise dignity or freedom
Previous infidelities to mother earth
Prefixed a commercial metaphor…
Leaving no outrage.

III

Genius botanists-
Chroniclers in the light
Of a later knowledge
Presaged disturbance inseparable…

Mother earth cried:
‘Listen white man,
I’m bleeding’
In aggrieved intimacy.

He,
Who sowed seeds of discord
Laughed
Laughed consumedly
Leaving no dregs.

IV

They told me
Absolute life contains death
To which I replied
In absolute terms
That profanity and self-abasement
Could not be disguised
As spiritual humility;

And that implicit obedience
To some numb serpent
Or organic completeness
Were mere prevarications.

They
With preternatural gravity
Deplored my innocence:
They would rather court
Moderate vice
Than
Immoderate virtue.

V

What manner of men were they?
Gold- alloyed to some commoner
But more durable metal?
Subjects of Nyoora ’s muse-
‘and they shall into the forest retreat
Leaving their kindred in encampment
Leaving no graves for their dead? ’

O wretched tenderness
I hate thee! I hate thee!

VI

I listened again and again
To the silence of prodigies;
I listened to my contumacy
I listened to the foreign troops
In my bowels…crushing my resolve
I listened to my ingratitude…
What will Mother Earth say!

VII

Come confidence
Strip me of this impotence
Guide me to the sunset tree
Where the earthworms are gathered!

Was it not written-?
many an elegant and facile poet
Shall to the front
For her love’s sake?

Her love’s sake!
Yes, Mother,
For your sake!

VIII

So I, Okigbo,
Metamorphosed into
‘a low growth
Among the forest.’

And when I died
Did Mazrui not write?
Have you not heard!
1973