Read a detailed account of Professor Awoonor's death as blogged about by Kwame Dawes, a fellow poet friend and compatriot of the late professor and carried in the Wall Street Journal.
Clifford was recently featured on this blog where he had a lot of praise for the late Professor whom he described as someone who has greatly influenced his work as a young poet and other poets on the global and African poetry scene. Find out more about Clifford by clicking here. We hope you deeply ponder on his eulogy below.
OUR FATHER IS GONE
The Wawa has been cut down, the forest is empty. The winds that went to the east comes back with news worst to the west. We at the west have known not guns, even if we did, we never used them, and even if we used, it was not against brethren, perhaps animals. Our [Poets] Father is dead, he is gone to the village never to see us and the villagers again. He has gone to be planted like a seed. Hoping to germinate and bear no fruits.
The owl stood alone on the tallest tree at the mountain peak, hooting a message only heard with the heart. Baba Fakunle saw a dark wind blowing across a land, yet lips were too light to convey this a heavy news. That fire in the woods that provided light for the night plays, went off abruptly, throwing this village into instant darkness, the oracles in the Sapele woods ululated a cry when it was seen that the tortoises were racing the horses, and the cat body guarding the sleeping mouse, strange everything seemed, signs heralded this fall, a man has fallen and never to walk earth again.
He had travelled, his family hoped to welcome a Dad, Grand dad, A man, a brother, a citizen, now in their hands, they hold a body. That of he, whom they were waiting to listen to stories from Kenya. He came back sleeping, never to wake up and left them to weep as long as he slumbers. If he had died, that would have been cool, after-all death to us all will come but not like how he met his. He didn't die, they die him, he was killed.
A pillar in the King Solomon's Temple has fallen, all craft men walk in squares with tools in hand, working but never able to negotiate with death. So we working on this our hearts to house the grief this fall has brought. Sincere prayer is that the Temple shall never fall. His degrees in the noble craft will flow to all corners of their 'square globe'. Death to his Life take but his inks freshly continues to pen in our hearts. Fraternally we salute A Brother.
We, the ones that walk in his shoes, now stumble in fear because we are shaken in the mind that there will no longer be maps and a guider in this journey he alone completed. We toured in darkness blindfolded, he unveiled us to full glare of the Light we sought from the East. Now that he was to take us through the other two journeys to the Greater Light, he has gone with the torch. Should we quit this journey or take another route or walk ahead in careful steps?
#KofiAwoonor is dead gone passed and has slipped into a world of silence.
