Tribute to an Insomniac Poet, Ebereonwu
I got Ebereonwu’s anthology, The Insomniac Dragon as a gift from a friend. My friend had wanted me to see that there are Nigerian writers with real weird inclinations who employ poetry as a medium to express their zaniness. He must have burdened himself with the task of browsing through the Literature section of the University of Ibadan bookshop to fetch out that beautiful piece of unusual anthology in order to refute my claim of a dearth of such poetic content in the Nigeria literary landscape. Few days before, we had argued over the proliferation of ‘political’ and ‘African’ poems in the country. I was emphatic in my assertion that as much as I do appreciate poems with such content, that it was high time we started reading poems with real existential leanings… with a stress on an individual’s quest for meaning in life, an individual’s struggle against life’s strange tides, rebellion against the conventional etc., etc.
Sooner had I leafed through The Insomniac Dragon, than my hunger for existential poems (from Naija) was satisfied. I think Ebereonwu was something else. If death had not callously taken him away from us, it might be necessary, in the nearest future, to request for a psychiatric examination of his brain. I oftentimes find myself captured in awe of his crazy ideas and also wonder that his inspiration cannot but be from anything less than the bottle. No sane man (non-literally) could have chunked out such screwy lines untipsied. Or what shall one say of a poet who writes:
The cobra’s venom is my cough syrup
(“Mankind”, The Insomniac Dragon)
or of these poignant and depressing lines:
I
have drowned a river in the ocean
And buried the night in the dark
I am my parents’ unrealized ambition
My lover’s promise never to be fulfilled
(“Next door”, The Insomniac Dragon)
As though this were not enough, Ebereonwu sequeled The Insomniac Dragon with yet another outlandish collection so aptly titled Unpublishable Poems. If I were to offer a change of title, I would have suggested Unpalatable Poems because if poetry is meant to be savoured, the poems in this collection are definitely too tart for the tongue.
In this new collection, one either gets stunned by his personal jabs on erstwhile president of the Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA), Odia Ofeimum in the “Ode To The Odd Man” or totally gets knocked away by the rather cynical poem, “SINFUL WORLD” where he writes:
Judge me not so that you shall not be judged
You don’t have to break your own law
Just to see me punished for getting involved
Throw me not into the lake of eternal fire
I wouldn’t do that to you if you were a sinner
(“SINFUL WORLD”, Unpublishable Poems)
Ebereonwu’s poems are particularly disturbing. He is daring in his ideas. They are unconventional. Pretty wonder that he writes that:
My poetry is the graffiti
On the trunk of a jacaranda
(“Just a poet”, The Insomniac Dragon)
I wish I knew more about Ebereonwu’s personal life beyond what is profiled in the blurb of his books. He cannot be any less different from his poems.
Ebere! Ebere! Are you there?
Ehn?Well,
In your demise
I found muse HERE
Your spittle harpooned the shark of bigotry and norm
Your voice unsettled the moon even in its abode up high
In your mortal strides, you caused cherubs to fret and sigh
You’ve gone now leaving behind your prepuce and your venom
THERE
It isn’t the fool anymore, let them know
It’s the wise and strong that treads where angels fear to go
So with your pen, cause ripples over there
Unsleep their slumbering stare
Aloofaa (c)
