The Bridge to Marilyn Maduka’s Home

ARTS & REVIEW

Obinna Uruakpa

A young girl walks barefooted on a lonesome road with an umbrella covering her head from the tropical sun. She eats leisurely from a cone of ice cream, savouring the sweet creamy taste to enjoy the refreshing but biting coldness of every flick of her tongue on it. While her body cools, the burning sensation of the scorched earth threatens to blister the soles of those tender feet with each step she takes.

And that’s a thrill for her!

She’s on the Bridge from where she came as a starry-eyed girl, a spirit seed to where she is going, growing up as a dreamy maiden to mature as a self-aware woman and human being.

On this road, she observes and takes notes of her experiences and surroundings and without much persuasion invites other wayfarers to share the feelings, the words and pictures within and without.

The Gardener of Birth

Did not intend

For us to be alone

And so, she planted friends!

(Friendship, P.7))

On that road a poet is born and she walks confidently in the journey of self-discovery, of cognitions and recognitions, of introspective explorations of the mind and psyche and the appreciation of the various tones on the tracks of the human experience.

She takes us through pain and joy, hope and despair, Nature and Art, loyalty and betrayal, mirth and laughter, love and friendship, hearth and home, man and woman, day and night, wonder and worship and other themes from the sublime to the mundane.

Beautiful music

Wash over me

Fill me with love

Make me reborn

And remind me of

Where I come from.

(Classical, p.28)

You wanted to call me yesterday

But your meeting ran too late

And the Union barred the gate

Then your phone’s credit was low

And you had somewhere you had to go

Then the chicken fought the rat

And a leopard ate your cat

So you just couldn’t call me yesterday

Because you were chased by a cow.

But it’s OK, you can still call me today

Or better yet, just call me now!

(Call me, p.9)

Her poems read smoothly, her themes are universal, yet intensely personal and the renditions are thoroughly inviting. On her wide landscapes every one can find a poem to vibrate with, a verse that can reflect their own feelings and attitudes and a line that reminds them of our shared humanity.

Come on in, young man,

Sit with me, if you can

Tear a piece of my bread

Even dip it in my stew

Yes! Eat with me,

And then tell me

That you wish to marry

My only daughter

You flip-flop and jeans wearing mortal! Oh!

Talk to me without fear

And look me in the eyes…

If you dare!

(You were saying? P.48)

Pick up this collection and find yourself almost breathless racing from one poem to another. That is unusual as few books of poetry are page-turners but this one appears different. It allows you to take off speedily but compels you to slow up and reflect on the wisdom of its words, the rhythm of its lines and the bouncy pacing of the collection achieved through the interspersing of the long and short ones, sometimes on the same page.

You meet a grandmaster at work on the pages here as she seems to know where your cords lie and how to pull your strings on the course. That’s when you tell yourself if this is a debut then you have got to fasten and adjust your seat belts; but then who knows how long this poet has been on this and how many eons are loaded into what is being presented to us here.

You are not surprised given her loaded credentials as daughter, sister, mother, wife, friend, scholar, economist, human resources practitioner and police woman. You are tempted to conclude the discipline in her lines, the mix of the traditional and the modern, the ability to keep us engaged on the ride come from the many caps she wears so brilliantly. But!

We may miss the bigger picture that way; for this budding artist comes ripe with the wisdom of ancient griots. She possibly arrived loaded with talents that have been nurtured with passion and discipline.

Like a cool shower in the summer,

Embracing you in your sweat

Giving a moment of reprieve

A moment to be and breathe

You stretch the moment so it won’t end

Now, that’s the presence of a true friend.

(Presence, P.8)

The collection is an adventure and search for that beginning to which we return at the very end, yet an appreciation of the grace and gifts, sweet and sour, we find on the journey that make it fulfilling. For all that, the poet is thankful and like the psalmist in reverential worship her soul leaps, her language lifts and the tone changes to reflect the loftiness of what wells up within as she coos on.

I will serve Thee my Lord,

While I yet have strength in me.

In my days of want,

You shall be my Saviour;

In my nights of wealth

You shall be my King!

I will honour Thee, with my all

When I am standing and when I fall.

With my body and with my soul

With my mind and with my means

In my work, and in my play

In every moment of every day!

(For As Long, p.70)

How would you read a whole collection of over 90 poems without finding a misplaced word or lousy line? And that’s where she thoroughly disappoints you as she leads you with an eye for all the details, a clear idea of what fits and an understanding of how to get you into the flow without blinking until she drops you off with a hearty goodbye.

I recall our teary eyes

When we said our goodbyes

With the exaggerated emotion of youth

Now quite amusing and almost “cute”.

“I will visit you always,” you pledged.

“I will never forget you,” I promised.

But time came, and paved a road in between us

And too soon, we forgot, what we didn’t really miss!

(Nostalgia, P.9)

Great artists make it seem so easy. This one does it well and shows a lot of willingness to do it again. We may have to be on the lookout for her next set of poems, in the format of her fancy.

We may then have to bring our ice cream cones in preferred flavors (and in her words: You stretch the moment so it won’t end) and enjoy the walk all the way with her.

*Uruakpa writes from Lago