Dancing with ‘Philtrum’
When you get to the foreword, you experience the breathless energy that characterised the night former president Mugabe resigned. The foreword makes you picture a scenario where the poet is typing/scribbling away while the crowd is dancing and singing outside.
IMET Philani Nyoni sometime in November at a literary function that lasted a whole weekend. Prior to my face-to-face, weekend-long meeting with Philani, I had encountered “Philtrum”, his collection of poems, in December 2017. Eleven months later, I saw him perform at that weekend-long literary function that also featured David Mungoshi, Ignatius Mabasa, Memory Chirere and Mercy Dhliwayo.
It was at this function that Mungoshi opined that it is folly to regard Nyoni as a young poet because in the world of art, we do not use age, but achievements to judge whether one is young or old. So for Mungoshi, Nyoni is his brother, but not younger brother. I know what you might be thinking now: “Just like David to say so!”
I first read the first edition, but the second edition, the 2.0 one, is neater and physically enticing than the first edition.
The combination of black and red on the cover design, and the tell-tale philtrum of former president Robert Mugabe gate-crashing the design like some sinister invasion makes this work of art more artistically unplugged.
That the collection was inspired by the events of November 2017 is no secret, but what’s more interesting is that this collection captures, unedited, the poet’s thoughts in their wisdom or lack thereof (that is, when looked at retrospectively). As Nyoni admits in his notes to the second edition, the idea behind “Philtrum” was to capture the moment raw because “if you don’t capture it as you feel . . . it becomes propaganda”.
When you get to the foreword, you experience the breathless energy that characterised the night former president Mugabe resigned. The foreword makes you picture a scenario where the poet is typing/scribbling away while the crowd is dancing and singing outside.
I remember too how, at the announcement of the news, I could not sit still. I wanted to get into town, I wanted to park my car in the middle of Julius Nyerere Way (which I actually did), and run with the crowd, or laugh, or sing, or jump onto the back of a passing “gonyeti”; anything to express my elation at the resignation of Mugabe. To capture this moment in its rawness, and still be brave enough to make it available a year later, is what makes “Philtrum” a worthy read. The nostalgia it provokes hits you like some strong shots!
But it’s not just this connection to a particular historical moment that makes “Philtrum” a worthy read. It is the craft that went into it. Here is an example from the poem, “Asmodeus” (by the way, you can still put Robert Mugabe, or any other fellow in the title and it will still make a lot of sense): “When he began his reign his subjects loved him/ Sang his name from dawn until the sun was dim/ And through the night with their crackling fires/ But soon they grew weary of their lyres/For hungry bellies do not make good music/Despite the bounty of the land, the subjects stank/Of hunger, for the demon king’s greed/Considered not even the infants’ need.”
The effortless rhyme that characterises this verse is even more fragrant when the poet reads it loud, or performs it as spoken word, a craft which Nyoni executes with spell-binding finesse.
Another poem, “Generally Speaking” is like an interrogation-cum-lesson for former first lady Grace Mugabe. This one can also pass off as a oneman stage act which, again, Nyoni is adept at.
The repeat-after-me that feature this poem make for an interesting read, especially when the former first lady fails to repeat after the persona: “Repeat after me/Power has and will never be/Sexually transmitted/power is not sexually communicated/ That is wrong you dumb b****!/Don’t make me use this switch!”
I always say a good writer reads. If you claim to be a writer, but evince all the characteristics of not being a reader, then you are merely masquerading as a writer. The expansive range of metaphors and inter-textual references in this collection is mind-blowing.
From Greek mythology to classical Africa, the poet unilaterally confers upon himself the gratuitous right to use even the revered as metaphors and anecdotes in order to make a point.
The one I enjoyed the most though is the one that features a letter from Bastard to Darling in “Border Jumper”. As you may already know, these two are hilarious characters from NoViolet Bulawayo’s “We Need New Names”. Bastard happens to be my favourite character.
The letter’s enriching possibilities make you wonder what would have happened if NoViolet had imagined Bastard, the border jumper, writing a letter to Darling.
What I like is how Nyoni imagines Bastard, a couple of years later, with his daring, but broken English: “. . . go look for our frens/But they are all so old and also young/Isn’t sometimes the youngness ends/And we must fight that fight that oldness brung/I don’t forget your face, but please send a card/Of the only woman I can make Mrs Bastard.”
Philani Nyoni is a mature and creatively uninhibited poet.
“Philtrum” is one of those instances when the agonies of life are converted into literature because if we cannot write about it, what else are we going to do with it?