THE ASTRONOMICAL
EVENT//Amanda Leigh
Lichtenstein
The
sun conspires
With
the earth
Twice
a year
Teaching
the world
An
equality lesson:
It
rises exactly
in
the east,
and
sets exactly
in the west,
Agreeing
with earth
To
align perfectly,
Twelve
hour days
For
everyone on
This
massive planet.
Not
a day,
Really,
but a
single
moment when
sun
and earth
agree
to meet.
Myths
are made
Of
our sun’s
Cosmic,
shining exactitude.
The
fierce bull
Equals
fearful man.
That
bearded woman
Is
loved again.
Your
raging husband
Writes
a poem.
The
fragile egg
stands
upright without
cracking,
spilling, breaking.
A
single hour
When
the earth
Is
tilted neither
Left
nor right.
A
single hour
When
the child
And
mother both
Wail
for milk.
A
single hour
When
the boy
And
the man
Both
need strength
To
kill the
Monster
of injustice
Lurking,
lunging clockwise.
A
single hour
When
suicidal girls
Hesitate
to jump
A
single hour
When
the scream
Reverses
again inward.
A
single hour
When
black boys
Are
not feared.
(When
black boys
Are
not killed
For
being feared.)
A
single hour
When
women walk
Alongside
men without
Panic
or passion.
A
single hour
When
the king
And
the leper
Are
fused singing
A
single hour
When
hope and
History
do rhyme.
The
thing is,
It’s
spectacularly astronomical
Lasting
an hour
At
most, passing
Through
shared skies
With
fleeting pageantry.
It’s
a scientific
Truth,
but not
A
social one
A
universal secret
But
not ours
To
keep now
In
our unruly
Days
on earth.
Holy
hour, holy
Travelling
sun passing
Through
a school
Of
seasons, lessons
Learned
or burned
Into
cosmic memory
But
never action.
Oh
earth, Oh
Sun
forgive us
This
reckless imbalance.
Even
stars burst ---- unannounced.
With
this hour
Upon
us now,
I
imagine we
Hold
this holy
hour
closer still.
Bookended
by imperfection,
This
single hour:
Mandate,
balance, prayer. RHYMES FOR GOOD TIMES // Clare & Raja
(Last words from Clare and Raja to our last Maneno)
We want to talk about this land, its rain and its sunshine,
We’ve had a few bad moments here but it’s mainly been a fun time.
In a place where things happen, maybe, eventually, sometime,
How come we’ve now reached the end of our own Stone Town movie run time?
Every meeting baraza seating salama greeting however fleeting
A place of Karibu! Welcome! from this person and the next,
Of sullen grumpy service from someone behind a desk,
Of open smiling faces, Africoid and Arabesque,
Except when hidden from public view, a privilege of your sex.
However fleeting salama greeting baraza seating every meeting
So we come to our clan Maneno, to whom we pay our homage,
It’s Kamanda Amanda time , ground control to Major Tom age,
Eleanor, with a spell in her
poems, straight from the heart,
Unanonymous Jerry, oh so very
fine at word play art,
Saidi, we cant hide
from your talent and your smart,
Amir, we need you here,
mzee’s wisdom on life’s chart.
Oh our little spice island!
You are such a nice island!
We love your pilau rice, island
Even living with your mice, island
You really do entice, island
Of life you are a slice.
And so we talk about this land, its sunshine and its rain,
Dear old Zenj, our friend, when will me meet again?
It’s a little too hard to think of this as our final good bye,
So we will make it easy, with just a ..... Tutaonana, baadaye!
as we took to the streets
in the outskirts of the Islands
to demonstrate, to show our anger, our pain
our protest to a long unjust rule
to protest the strangling of ballot voice
the voice of many
unarmed as we were
marching through a rough road
towards a smooth road of democracy
to a clean road of justice
along a perfect road to prosperity
with our slogans
the weapon of the weak majority, chanting;
“FALSIFIED, Leave Our Islands Be”
we then heard deafening sounds of guns
bullets flooded around
mass volume of blood was shed
the shock of it;
Bullets and blood in the birth place of peace!
The wounds are still raw
as we are crippled for ever
no sun will shine our days
no rain will wash away our pain
till the day the voice of the innocent is heard
the day the justice will take its lead
but as gloomy as we are, we can’t wait too long
we shall again take to the streets
with our slogans chanting;
“Take Them KILLERS To THE HAGUE”
BLOOD IN THE BIRTH PLACE OF PEACE: // Said Suleiman
On 26-27/1/2001
On 26-27/1/2001
as we took to the streets
in the outskirts of the Islands
to demonstrate, to show our anger, our pain
our protest to a long unjust rule
to protest the strangling of ballot voice
the voice of many
unarmed as we were
marching through a rough road
towards a smooth road of democracy
to a clean road of justice
along a perfect road to prosperity
with our slogans
the weapon of the weak majority, chanting;
“FALSIFIED, Leave Our Islands Be”
we then heard deafening sounds of guns
bullets flooded around
mass volume of blood was shed
the shock of it;
Bullets and blood in the birth place of peace!
The wounds are still raw
as we are crippled for ever
no sun will shine our days
no rain will wash away our pain
till the day the voice of the innocent is heard
the day the justice will take its lead
but as gloomy as we are, we can’t wait too long
we shall again take to the streets
with our slogans chanting;
“Take Them KILLERS To THE HAGUE”
SUNSHINE MEETS RAIN//Thomas Green
Sunshine
No trace of a breeze at the beginning of the week,
The sun pounds down in the middle of the day.
Monday as temperatures rise to a simmer.
Oh glaring bright orb in the middle of the day.
Too hot , too bright that you cannot meet it’s gaze.
Tuesday noon sweat trickles down my back.
I perspire and my clothes go damp and stick to me.
After only a stroll to there and back,
I sweat, and my clothes are wringing wet.
The air is so thick it’s hard to take breath
I could cut into this air with a knife
and carve it like a piece of cake.
Rumbling darkness gathers throughout the night
Wednesday the oppressive sun beats down yet again.
I feel a slight drizzle on my face from out of nowhere.
Sweat beads upon my brow and dribbles down my leg,
So uncomfortable the days have become.
People daubing the moisture that beads upon their face,
Sweating buckets as they toil beneath this sun.
In the tropics one thing is for sure
When the sun hails down so unforgiving and unkind
Only in shade, in breeze, in rest, comfort will you find
beneath the tropical roiling brazen sun.
Rain
Brilliant sky the billowing clouds soon obscure,
And tall and voluminous they grow quickly before our eyes.
Such clouds darken and spread like a canopy above
The downpour starts with a thunderous cry.
Announcing its arrival with a sudden loud clap,
One should take cover and hunker down somewhere dry
Be it morning waking up to clatter above our heads
Stay inside protected or “Go fast get inside.”
Take shelter or suffer heaven’s wrath.
Stand under eaves and wait for the storm to pass.
The rain itself arrives first as a pitter patter
Soon it rushes like vermin over rooftops alas.
A riff of dull notes sent by god so it were,
like drums heralding gods in the skies.
It beats it pounds, a flash, another thunderclap.
Currents as waterfalls gushing down.
Children play in the torrents plunging so quick
And in streams flowing through narrow streets of town
Quick rivers flowing along gravity’s path
To finally reach the awaiting sea.
A short time and this tempest too will pass
And the water will be gone and leave us be.
Unforgiving sunshine glares down so warm and so hot.
Steam rises as sunshine meets rain.
Damp erased by the sun’s persistent rays,
unbearably hot without trace of breeze.
