Of Memories, Motherhood and Love: A review of Nkosiyazi Kan Kanjiri's Looking for Mother by Ubaji Isiaka Abubakar Eazy

 Of Memories, Motherhood and Love: A review of Nkosiyazi Kan Kanjiri's Looking for Mother

by Ubaji Isiaka Abubakar Eazy





Indeed, the bond between a mother and her offspring is as strong as the anchor of a ship. Many a poem have I read about motherhood, but only a few have nearly bled my eyes as Kanjiri's does. Kanjiri writes with such depth of emotion and effortless surface simplicity that he easily calls us into his emotions.

'Looking for Mother' is the poet's rite de passage into the authorship world. In the anthology, the poet goes back in time to trace events from his days of innocence to a present state of experience.

Nkosiyazi poems may be terse and not as lengthy as the classical types we are wont to encounter in literature classes; meanwhile, they are nonetheless quite profound. Some are in fact quite memorable and I AM certain every reader would have mastered at least one poem by the time they finish perusing the collection. Here is one for example:

WHEN MOTHER DIED

I did not cry when Mother died

I do not know the pain of losing a mother

I know the pain of seeing her wilt.

In this poem, the persona expresses the innocence of a child still trying to conceptualize death. That child probably understood or envisioned death as a leach gradually sucking out life from its host or victim; That would explain why he knows the pain of seeing her wilt'.

Within three lines, Nkosiyazi is able to convey a depth of emotion that the Victorian poet would normally convey in seven lengthy stanzas. Poetry thrives on the husbandry of words and Nkosiyazi knows how to make his words image his feelings of loss and emptiness without saying much. After reading the poems, you have this pesky feeling that there might have been more the poet could have said or would have wanted to say, but he deliberately refuses to dig deeper; perhaps because he fears to bare his heart to the world.

The poems in the first part of the anthology are anchored on the poet's memories of his mother; the wonderful and turbulent times spent with her, including moments when she was subjected to domestic violence.

In our home,

In our home, there is a path to hell.

I followed the fury in father's eyes.

 

Until I gathered hell resides

Where Father’s palm meets Mother’s cheek. 


When hell breaks loose,

Mother becomes different shades of heaven.  Her face cracks into a thousand splendid stars.

 

Her voice splits into the colours of the rainbow.

She sheds no tears,

She was told the sun is majestic in the storm. )

 

She was taught the moon shines in the dark where, upon its gaze, children gather around a bonfire to share beautiful stories. (97-100)

Even when relating such sad experiences as the one above, Nkosiyazi relates them as If from A detached point of view, but a careful second look would bring one to the realization that he is actually relating deeply painful events.

In 'Looking for Her', the poet talks of a particular moment when tears rolled down his eyes as he recalls his mother's loss. Those tears have been hanging there for five years waiting for an opportunity to burst forth, perhaps at a time when he is mature enough to fully conceptualize death. These were the tears that could find no release in another poem titled 'When Mother Died'.

 

Moving away from death, nostalgia, and loss, the poet also explores the theme of love in the second part of the collection. My favourite poem in this section happens to be 'To Love a Poet and I crave your indulgence to have it copied out here:

To Love a Poet

Girl, learn to love yourself more when you are with him,

because many are the times he slips out of your arms to go hug a sonnet.

 

The wittiness in these lines strikes me as fresh and memorable.

The final part of the collection titled 'Where I come from' takes a journey back home to Zimbabwe, the poet's country of origin, to capture the poverty and political instability rife in his country as in:

Our story

There is a sunken people in the sockets of our eyes.

Behind every blink are ashes of burnt tales.

Our story is a hymn of bleating goats in an election,

choosing between the wolf and hyena.

My only fear of Nkosiyazi’s veneration of Motherhood is that I hope he is not joining the band of those who erect a shrine in honour of motherhood and then compel all to worship in this altar. My belief is that, as we honour motherhood, let us not forget to revere fatherhood as well for both sides play complementary roles in the development of their offspring.

All in all, for Nkosiyazi, memories represent the most important aspects of our existence; they are a thin and infinite path leading back to our genesis and holding tales of the struggles we have had to encounter to reach our present state. Left without our beloveds or those we began the journey of life with, our memories of them become our fortitude. Looking for Mother is neither one of those anthologies where you would have to rack your head to draw out meaning nor repeatedly read the lines to grasp meaning. It is a fast read which reveals much with limited diction and I hope that you are able to perceive the depth of emotion captured therein.

 

© Ubaji Isiaka Abubakar Eazy 2023

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

If Only by Bodle Mohamed

Bad Friends Corrupt Good Morals

How to Suceed by Faarah Mohamed