Alright,
so here is one of these snippets that I stumbled across in the course of
flicking through, in this case, Nigeria Magazine, in the search of
articles and images that may be relevant to the research project I'm currently
working on. It is by Vera Norman and was published in Nigeria Magazine.
September 1964. No. 81. 236. I quite like
it.
P.S.
Ikorodu Road, if you don't happen to be familiar with the transport networks of
southern Nigeria, is a major express way connecting Lagos mainland to Ikorodu.
It's important enough to have a Wikipedia page of its own.
Ikorodu
Road
Glaring white eyes their light
Reproduced and glancing off our own
As they race towards us
Leaping a slight rise or bending
corner.
Ahead a mirage as light beats down on
vapour
Like a fantastic sunburst prismatic
upon sea.
The great expanse of nubian [sic] sky
Thrown down upon us by the heavy
foliage
Of towering trees and plumage of the
palms
Groping upwards with long arms.
The dark night illumined
intermittently
By tropic flashes of white light
Following a season's storm.
But far more fearful than black skies
And the fast moving, glaring eyes
Now floating up before us a weird
scene.
Ghost upon ghost, rising, weaving,
Beckoning, breaking into a vat host,
Armies of ectoplasm, where sudden rain
Recently fell on dry road.
Where is this fearful place,
Enchanted wood or childish fantasy?
But no, it is reality
As any drive will show at intervals,
The metal scars of numerous crashed
cars
Victims of both day and night
Upended or on banks.
To be honest, what
fascinates me here, is Norman's description of the experience of travelling by
road – some of which I can relate to a trip late last week here in Germany. It
was dark and it was raining. We were travelling on one of the local highways
from a family birthday back home to the small town where I am currently
staying. This feels familiar:
Glaring white eyes their light
Reproduced and glancing off our own
As they race towards us
Leaping a slight rise or bending
corner.
I admit that I am a
bit traumatised by a recent accident. So, driving in the dark is a bit scary
now. Even on German highways where there is a division between my lane and the
one in which the 'glaring white eyes' of the cars that 'race towards us.' The
later parts of the poem, however, are more reminiscent of experiences I have
had travelling on Nigerian roads:
Now floating up before us a weird
scene.
Ghost upon ghost, rising, weaving,
Beckoning, breaking into a vat host,
Armies of ectoplasm, where sudden rain
Recently fell on dry road.
…
As any drive will show at intervals,
The metal scars of numerous crashed
cars
Victims of both day and night
Upended
or on banks.
It reflects on the
dangers of long-distance travel on Nigerian roads. I remember seeing the wrecks
of burnt out cars along on the road side when I travelled in shared 'bush'
taxies. I travelled quite a bit but nothing comparable to the time that
commercial drivers will spend on the road. So, I wonder, to which extent this
is also a good illustration of the dangers that the drivers of those painted
lorries experience – and whether there is a way in which I can work this poem
into the project I am currently working on. I want it to be less academically
dry, after all, more fun.
Oh well, let's see.
