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| #65 or Nothing |
Saraba 12 is an
extended warfront in the permanence of words. It is the later-sobs of our screams
as justice was rumpled and ripped out in our faces. Saraba 12 lends voices to
issues we would rather nurture in the weak crevices of our hearts. We may not have succeeded in our battles, but
we fought and shocked miseries – that much does this Saraba edition say. This
edition reminds us of our broken battles, gained strength, poignant pasts and
the placards we carried to #Occupy streets and roads. Of all the previous editions, this indeed is the one that reflects our raw passion. After all, these are our pains. And whoever
tells them must be ours, doing ours. This Justice Issue nudges us to carry on
with our personal fights and collective struggles.
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| Pinging and Protesting Photo: Ray Daniels Okeugo |
In this edition,
it is justice all the way. Saraba 12 is compactly packed. Conversely, Saraba
Issue 12 compactness does not muddy its fieriness, it only bakes the few
published pieces. These wars that I speak of are not arcane to us. There are
the wars we wrestled, and are still fighting with the power of our tweets, blackberries,
WhatsApp, Cams, Youtube and blogs.
If vengeance is
the irrationality of imbalanced emotions, then justice is the fairness of
vengeance. In Saraba 12, justice is the words stirred with vengeance - nothing is
irrational.
One thing I must
ask the co-publishers, Dami and Iduma, though is if their strength is wavering.
This issue of the mag took long in coming. I understand there are pressing
needs, but my fear must be made known. If Saraba ever stops publishing, I may
give up eating egusi and stop tweeting all together. It would be that painful
and God forbids that happens. Rescue my egusi, go download this e-mag and show
you commend this gem of literary creation. We now have Saraba edition 12, it’s
been quite a journey from the first edition. Trawl through the archives
and you will know what kind of journey it has really been.
Their Evils;
Our Justice
Of Similitude and Verisimilitude – Tade Ipadeola
I was beginning
to like Ahmed Maiwada until he corked his gun and shot himself. Even a literary
baby would not doubt he was running on liquor when he submitted Rotimi
Babatunde’s Caine Prize shortlist, Bombay's Republic, a rehash of Biyi Bamidele’s Burma
Boy. It was justice served when the said Bombay's Republic later won the Cain
Prize. In this essay, Tade takes his time in dissecting the issue of plagiarism
and how such word does not hold true when Bombay’s
Republic and Burma Boy are
compared. This essay also highlights Rotimi’s immense literary achievements
over the years. Certainly, Rotimi Babatunde cannot have fitted with the word
plagiarism. He is well versed in his craft for that. Ahmed is only skilled
at causing cyber restiveness. Until now, Rotimi does not maintain social media
presence. Or alternatively, he craves social demureness, which is bad. In this social media generation, tweets raze kingdom faster. When you see Mubarak, ask him.
Sons and Mothers
– Chioma Iwunze Ibiam
Who says prose
isn’t the hybrid of the real with the imagination? Chioma’s Son
and Mothers jags at the reader’s emotions as it pans on the reality
than once was. This story is an adaptation of the ABSU-5 gang rape. It almost
reads as the true story. What is different between this story and the
ABSU-5 rape case is the closure this story achieves. It never stops with the
sloppiness of our police in investigating the case. This story takes it
further; the perpetuators are caught; they are charged; and the reader gets to
read the perpetrators' side of the story.
Of Tears and Sacarsm
Victor Ehikhamenor‘s two essays address the multiple dooms of a country. In Letter
to a War President, Victor takes a benign scorn at the President. The
mockery is only noticeable in the fake seriousness of the letter. What this
letter sets out to tell the President is not new. It is just what a sensible
President should know. In this letter, Victor babysits the President as he
tutors him the simple principles of handling a country in the face of security
challenges. If one Goodluck is daft, there is a Victor that is smart.
Children
Without Revolution almost achieves no significance other than
his pitiable continuous whine. This piece is marinated in deep self loathing and the
reader’s taste is only spurred by the poeticity of Victor’s words. I only love
this piece for his poetic-prosaic language. Its clichéd mournful tone puts one off.
Home and Losses
Émigré
(1) – Jumoke Verissimo
Jumoke’s verses
plunge into the private solitariness of an immigrant;
“Tonight like
every other night to come
you will stay awake thinking of home…”
As one thinks Jumoke’s advice might bring
respite the way of the émigré, she says this;
“keep your mind open to popular wisdom:
the only smell of distrust between
a country and a citizen is exile.”
Even the émigré’s country is no less culpable in this matter.
The Old River Bank – Tonye Willie-Pipple
These are verses with emotive lines. This poem narrates
the stolen peace of an ambient seaside community. Until the evil seafarers visit
the River Bank, they are people in their simple remoteness.
“There was a certain year
when oyster-shells massaged
founding feet
pacing the old riverbank…
…The years before the first ships arrived
beat our mother,
raped her hard,
and raised the flaring flag”
Download Saraba 12 now.
It is hot-hot. Trust me. You don't want to miss out on this.
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