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Read the Poem, Abiku, by Charles O.

Background

To the uninitiated, Abiku can be a rather daunting piece. This is so because an understanding of the meaning and implications of the Abiku concept is necessary for a proper understanding of the poem.

If the belief in the supernatural is all-pervasive in traditional African culture, then the belief in the inimical and diabolic variant is even more insidiously ingrained in that tradition. Abiku (figuratively “born to die”) in Yoruba lore refers to one such malevolent spirit who appropriates and insinuates a woman’s womb to be born and re-born, for the singular purpose of unleashing recurring tumult on such a woman. The woman, then, conceives, carries the pregnancy to term, delivers, only for the child, Abiku, to die within the first few years of its birth.

In some cases though, the spirit-baby pities her mother and decides to stay permanently.

The poem Abiku explores the travails of a woman who has birthed several Abiku. Each conception brought her an unnerving admixture of “elation and despair”. Indeed, she inhabited, perpetually, the twilight between exaltation and grief: in one year she would conceive, in another, deliver, and in a few more yet, mourn the death of the child. The poem captures a moment when our protagonist, pregnant again, sits on her windowsill and gazes at the night sky. Crying silently, she prays the gods to have mercy on her, and have Abiku stay this time. As though in assurance of a new resolution, the child stirs within.

Imagery & Symbolism

“Death” and “rebirth,” “emergence” and “spiral … into abyssal depths,” “elation” and “despair,” “arrivals” and “departures,” are imageries at odds with each other. We sense antagonistic forces—life and death, emergence and downward spiral, et cetera—engaged in tense battles, as though for their very own continuity.

The “accentuation” of the protagonist’s belly by the night’s full moon provides another striking imagery. For one, both are round; for another, both are, literally, full. Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, just as the full moon heralds the dawning of a new day, the woman’s full belly portends the impending arrival of a new being.

Message

Undoubtedly, there are as many interpretations of a poem as there are readers of it. One of the messages I take away from the poem though is that, just as the protagonist, who had suffered repeatedly at Abiku’s hands, clung obstinately to the hopes of having a child that would survive past infancy, we all must remain steadfast to our higher aspirations in spite of (or, even, because of) the odds. We must, indeed, never resign ourselves to the accident of chance, or worse, fate.

Even in the face of forces seemingly outside of her control, our protagonist expressed hope for an eventual breakthrough (“maybe she’ll stay”) this time.

*

Rewritten from the original piece of May 9, 2002.

dreary gloomy days
frosty starry nights
life’s lost all
nothing matters

one fleeting
thought of you
and

suddenly
gloom fades
frost thaws
life gains meaning
all matter

those times
i love you
more

© by Charles E. Oyibo

An unending cycle
of death and rebirth;
An emergence,
destined to spiral
swiftly,
disquietingly,
into abyssal depths.

*

Eyes red and tender
from years of incessant tears;
Years,
of alternating elation and despair,
ominous arrivals, and
torturous departures.

*

Seating on the windowsill;
Gazing at the stars with tear-filled eyes…
Her belly,
accentuated by the night’s full moon.
Abiku stirs within.
Maybe she’ll stay this time;
Maybe.

© by Charles O.

See a discussion of the poem.

A poem by Charles E. Oyibo

A veritable motley—those Lagosians,
Igala, Igbira, all creeds and persuasions.
Confined in space by the obdurate traffic,
Of that bedraggled Lagos Expressway (sic).

Street hawkers, bus conductors, sweat-imbued,
O-sho-di straight, no stop o, Oshodi, Oshod…
No bother about that dead street light,
Brother, better upgrade to panoramic sight.

The cadaverous Yellow Fever appears presently,
Directing, controlling, gesticulating wildly.
Abracadabra, he makes as swift a disappearance;
Lo, the Mercedes v-boot just made a clearance.

‘Omo ale!’ snarls the Peugeot driver, violated;
Others rant and curse, verily desecrated.
The swearing and raving come to naught;
Mercedes man has long reached his cot.

What traffic? Padi, cut through that petrol station!
In fact, complicate this knotty reticulation.
Maneuver here, maneuver there,
Walahi, worsen this web of festering ire.

Hallelujah, that car just moved an inch or so;
Maza, maza, let’s go for the close, go, go.
Ah, too quickly, too close; the brakes fail,
Wham, the Fiat slams into the Beetle’s tail.

Horns blare, doors fly open and slam shut,
‘You don hit my car!’ howls Mr. Beetle, nerves taut.
Behold: the cacophony of assault and expletive,
In English, Kanuri, Urhobo, and Tiv.

© 2006. All Rights Reserved by Charles E. Oyibo.