Lambeth Black History Month 2006
'What Africa Means to Me'- Black History Month Poetry Competition result
On the 28th October, Nettlefold Hall was full to witness the Black History Month poetry competition awards ceremony.
The competition was organised by Lambeth Libraries with youth arts organisation - Accapella. Three winners were chosen, one from each of the age groups 13-15, 16-19 and 20-24 years old and each winner received a certificate and £50 prize money.
In addition to the three winners two other poems were given special commendations – all five poems are reproduced below.
When I went to Ghana – Winner
I went to Cape Coast…
Cape Coast castle was very dark and gloomy,
It was so scary I nearly went loony.
It was so roomy
It made me feel groomy
It was an experience to remember, like Christmas in December.
I crossed Cape Coast bridge…
Cape Coast bridge was really really high,
I had shivers from my head to my thigh.
Above all the trees in the open woods
We didn’t find anything not no treasure nor no goods.
The bridge wobbled as we walked across it,
Anxious to reach the other side end – we stopped it.
The drinks…
The drinks in Ghana were sooo refreshing
I gulped it all down, it was very impressing.
They came in glass bottles, which made me feel trusted,
But they were a bit musty – and needed to be dusted.
Nikita Brown Age 14
What Africa means to me – Winner
I bathed in the sun today,
I lay as the rivers of my motherland boiled beneath my skin.
Rich dark soil still inhabits my nail beds,
Left from the day I clawed into her with the entirety of my soul,
Pleading not to be taken from my home.
And blood still trickles from the wounds
Inflicted as I was dragged from the only woman who ever truly loved me!
I still emit the fragrance of her earth as glorious rains relieve her.
The tears I cry… still flavoured by the salts of her lakes.
How I love you Ma, how I miss you.
I often lay awake for I cannot rest
Without the sound of joyous crickets
At play among your grassy emerald braids.
I’m stationary; I cannot function without the sound of your children’s feet
Shuffling along dusty roads.
I’m blind, only your evening breeze could clear my eyes.
Art is empty to me, I long for the faint portraits of joy
Your bright clouds drew for me.
Music is silent noise to me, I long for the sweet farewell tunes
Your morning birds sing to the retiring night stars
Damn, I’m sorry for what they did to you Ma,
I’m sorry for not being there for you Ma.
I’m sorry I’m not as strong as you Ma.
I’m sorry I gave up Ma, I didn’t fight Ma, I let them win Ma.
I’m sorry I know too well the pain of violation, Ma
I’m sorry we know such pain.
But don’t worry about me
I feel nothing
My nerves were rooted in your forests and jungles
By the ancient spirit trees
Among your sweet fruit and berries
Now the pain of loss… it’s a reality only through knowledge
I cry because I know I should
I mourn because I know I should
But don’t worry about me Ma
I feel nothing
Still, I bathed in the sun today
The rivers of my motherland boiled beneath my skin
And evaporated in to yesterday.
Melinda Nampiima Age 19
What Africa means to me – Winner
To drive by night in Ouaga and to think, “Ok, here I am”…
To discover again my family after six years of absence…
To eat some rice with a spoon, alone with my uncle…
To write some peuhl’s word in a notebook…
To travel on a moped and to have the feeling that I am flying…
To pass women wearing loincloth and carrying iceboxes on their heads…
To share a taxi with six passengers…
To look at Ina’s feet, so lined that they are pasted to her scandals…
To take my cousins in my arms…
To sit on the terrace to look at the moon…
To listen to the gecko’s sound, hidden behind the cupboard…
To have a wash with a bucket of hot water…
To wash the hands in a cup of water before each meal…
To help oneself with the right hand…
To share the women’s intimacy in the kitchen…
To listen to Ina watching an action movie…
To play cards with my cousins…
To be awakened by a child now teenager…
To sit in a bar with my friends…
To live without a watch…
To learn how to shake someone’s hand…
To relish an ice-cream in a restaurant…
To cause astonishment when I say my family name…
To feel at home…
After all.
Claire Diao Age 21
What Africa means to me – Highly commended
Make poverty history; that’s what I think.
But this will not happen, not just in a wink.
People dying from HIV;
For families mourning, there is no glee
They’re facing starvation and drought;
Is this what equality is all about?
Within my mind, there are things I see
These things explain, what Africa means to me
We can change their struggling economy
This I believe, most passionately
Ghana, Nigeria; like European countries
Deserve to be treated equally
Give Africa their market share, instead of charity
Human rights; that should be widespread
Still starving Africans bury their dead
Malaria and blindness, take young children’s lives
Why can’t we do something, to help them survive!
For their bloated stomachs and skeletal frames
Let’s ask ourselves, who’s to blame?
They have gold and diamond, that brings great wealth
So why do Africans have the poorest health?
Could we share the wealth of richer nations?
To stem the tide of Africa’s starvation?
I pray for the day when African children smile
With health and education, within reach of a mile
To experience their suffering we might understand
The injustice they live, on their fertile land
What Africa means to me, I now hope you all can see.
Thuy-Vy Ngo Age 13
What Africa means to me – Highly commended
The love between sisters no one can describe or break
We’re one in a million, even our blood origin we share no one can ever compare
Down to the unspoken words that are uttered between us no one can see or hear
It is deceiving to look at each other, one familiar face to the other
It is not a mirror reflection that we see but each other, non-identically, whether we are similar or not we are combined and connected by our history
We may have 46 chromosomes, be mothers, sisters, aunties and nieces but most of all we are children of Africa.
Monique Thomas-Miller Age 20
All poems are copyright of the authors and printed by Lambeth Libraries by permission.
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