AfroConscious

Title: AfroConscious
Author(s): Multiple authors across Africa
Genre: Poetry/Articles
Pages: 42
Publisher: Self published
Year of Publication: 2010
ISBN: 9780 626 49084

AfroConscious
U WRITE WHAT U LIKE

A compilation of contemporary Poetry Fiction Non-Fiction Reviews Features Art from across the African landscape
South Africa Mozambique Ghana Nigeria

CONTENTS

The rebirth of Kweku Ananse - Kofi Anane Kyeremeh
To her - Fadil Ishak Dapilaa
Filial love - Luzuko Gongxeka
Trapped Gagged Tongue tied - Zinzi Voyiya
Throw It Away - Kofi Anane Kyeremeh
Lest we forget - Vuyokazi S. Yonke
Christianity - Fezekile Futhwa
am i just another? - Emmanuel Ekosse
She is you -- Tsepo Gumbi
The court jester - Xolile Sizephe
Father Figures - Siya Ayanda Mbuyazi
Imagine - Olawale Adineran
Rationalizing with I - Sibongisiwe Sibeko
Sunday Confessions - Ouma Mokwana
Memory, be silent -- Danny Hanson
One Peace - Tshepo Tshabalala
Ke mo bonetse - Mpho Matsitle
Mental circumcision - Sechaba Keketsi

Features:
Sparkling women - Vuyokazi S. Yonke
Consciousness - Karabo Mkhabela

Book review and interview:
Waking Up Dead (Roger Smith) - Tshepo Tshabalala

Illustrator - Ivan Muhambe
Compiler - Vuyokazi S Yonke


Everyone has a story. Here is the platform to share yours in your own words. Write what U like!




The publication is available from Vuyokazi in Cape Town and around Johannesburg on the 16-21st December 2010.
Order by email: uwritewhatulike@gmail.com
R30 cash. R40 incl. postage



You have heard all the hype through the Facebook group: Afrikan Poets and Writers, now its time YOU believed the hype- The Book IS out!
Formerly known as U WRITE WHAT U LIKE, has now been christened as AfroConscious, you can own the first issue- it is a must have collection from youth all across the landscape of Africa!

The reason for the name change?
I was telling Ms Lunika from the National Library about this project and I mentioned the name U write what U like, and she said: "Couldn't you be more original?"
Then the name AfroConscious just materialised and I've gone for it.

I hope you enjoy this African feast of words!




The illustration on the front and back cover appear courtesy of Ivan Muhambe (Mozambique)

pointz ->

“When making a fire people like to join you, when cleaning the ashes you are often alone”

“When the music changes, so does the dance”

Con Fused - running with scattered thought

The generation stood staring down the cannon's barrel, (Pro found us, lost in generation)
oblivious of the already burning fuse - the Con Fused with youth's muse

Standing in line awaiting 'personality handouts' from MedIA's gloat
gluttons seeking more than they unfair share end up celebrated figures (celebb/Caleb)
like most mass produced goods in today's world - shelf life is limited
expiry date comes with increased sales, and the figure's demise fuels the money machine
staged funerals for the sacrifice must be disguised

still it thrives and many ready lost lives for past futures
sutures infested and choIce was just another historical terminology
whose meaning remains a charade, youTH lost in spent memories

child soldiers, hungry babes,disease, seemingly sidelined
marketed for more gain and increased MedIA points
children sold for public CITY
and 3rd world country divisions (1st World? 2nd?)
yet the world remains one . . . do we all suffer?

so feelings point in no direction and lives remain a found illusion
where do youth find themselves when Examples are buttered easily
accounting to none, mourning loss of their spines
sold the people for mines, yes?
Bees buzzed many but few got the honey, funny?
where do youth find a way, when means are used to bait them . .

.. ..

A lost peoples wanting for their Own back, distracted by what they seemingly lack
A lost Culture Amnesiac, from infused imported unrealities, return to the basic


not HIstory, OurStory quells ConFusion - Know yours

Just In Case

by Kiah Lola Ashaolu on Friday, August 13, 2010 at 10:33am

I see them flock around you. Svelte young beauties with bouncy pointed breasts. Board stomachs without scars. Thighs that are stretch mark free. Faces that are alien to the ravages of time. They flock around you despite the gray beard and the belly that i have nursed all these years. They are drawn by the wealth that is visible in your every nuance. In case you forget and somehow decide they are better than your wife of 27 years, remember this.

In case you ever forget. And i know that it is possible that you will. We are human after all. Susceptible to amnesia - self-inflicted and sometimes through means we have no control over. Who knows if we shall escape that horror that is Alzheimer? Or the numerous accidents that can steal our memories and leave our pages blank? Memories are as vulnerable as our bodies. Who knows if tomorrow might bring seas of sorrow or despair, wealth or abundance to wash away all memories of all that i am to you?

In case you forget, the wrinkles on my face are from years of worrying about you those nights you stayed out late, those days you couldn't face the dawn because of pain and despair, those times you were grieved in your spirit and unwilling to face whatever life had to offer. In case you forget, the laugh lines near my lips are from the joy you brought me over the years, the laughter you drew from my lips with your clumsy advances to win my heart, the clowning you engaged in to elicit a smile from my face when all other efforts had failed.

In case you forget, the stretch marks are from the four children i have borne you. The scar across my stomach from the last one that you so wanted to be a girl. I suckled and nourished them from the bowels of milk nature gifted me with. That should explain the sagging breasts.

In case you forget, i make the best jollof rice. Its all you ever eat. It is your best meal and years of cooking it has made me into a plump woman and no more the svelte girl you met on the streets of Akoka. The cook must taste the meal first after all. If salad had been your favorite meal, it would be a different story altogether.

In case you forget, my eyes are dimmer and i wear glasses because i cooked for five long years with firewood. You couldn't afford better then. Now we have all the shiny stuff in the kitchen but back then i had the firewood, my hands, my lungs and my eyes to make your meals.

In case you forget, i love you. I have loved you for the best part of my life. I will never love again like this. Never like this.

Most of all, in case you forget, my father is still very good with his guns and my brother, the one that never liked you,is a Major in the army now and he is acclaimed for being a sharp shooter.

Just in case you forget...

© Damilola Ashaolu 2010

Maybe Oneday

Their intentions to serve, so they say,
Is the people’s plight, the people’s cause
And, that only, is the whole prophesized truth.

In the name of the masses, the down-beaten dusty masses
Promises are made of better tomorrows, in a land,
Where the sun has fully risen, and left all, equal.

But, when the windows to opportunity become draped
In the colors of affiliation, where are we to fit in,
With our hue-less faces, and, black n’ white selves.

When what is given to Caesar does not go to Rome,
Who will hold us to ransom when we bear the right
To cry theft from tattered, rat chewed pockets.

When all that we stood for has been lost,
Aren’t our seeking hearts not justified to trek the miles, and,
Knock for answers from doors, which have raised the questions.

When the sword is empowered, to put the pen on the leash
For shunning the hand that never fed it. Is Freedom really,
A reality one can believe, truly does exist?

When choice becomes a Two-Way street between two devils,
Where are to run to, except be taken in by the one,
Masquerading in the lesser evil.

When we have screamed our lungs out, what are we to do?
Except hope that tomorrows yet to come, those wielding our fates,
Will see the lines, creasing our chiperoni beaten faces.

© 2010 Cozmik Da Wordsmith