Notre radio m’avait tellement chanté
A l’époque je fus très enchanté
D’entendre que débrouiller n’est pas voler
Profane, mes oreilles la buvaient
Heureuses d’apprendre une rime
Ignorant la justification de leur crime
Aujourd’hui d’homme de la rue aux politiques
Ils ont des ailes pour voler ; pour eux un art ludique
Qui me laisse sans savoir qui des deux se débrouille
Et qui des deux la piste me brouille
Toutefois, les deux se disent se débrouiller
Et en flagrant délit, je les vois bien voler !
A Reader's comment
I like this take on what one might term “la culture” ou bien “l'économie de la débrouillardise": the ability to make something from nothing, to progress from rags to riches through ingenuity, street-wisdom, resourcefulness, bureaucratic budget brawls, “open-eye” politics, “the politics of the belly,” “scratch- my-back-I-scratch-your-own,” or simply put “le pillage de l'État”. There’s little doubt that most West and Central African economies have been pauperized to "refuges de la débrouillardise” and that the legacy seems to be thriving. Alors quo vadis?
I have been amused to note the frequency with which marginal and genuine undertakings or contracts in West Africa are generally sealed with the ancient Biblical stamp: “By the grace of God” (expect to hear more of this from professional soccer players in interviews just before the 2010 world cup!). Now I wonder if there’s an equivalent stock expression that speakers of the French language in Central Africa use?
I enjoy your appropriation of the French language. And I agree, as your poems in this language indicate (hope I’m not wrong on this), that there are some subjects which are better thought of in the language whose cultural underpinnings seem to have given life to the social phenomena in question. Maybe by writing in that very language, one stands a chance of helping it (as a secondary objective) to redeem itself from the corruption wrought by its own very users.
Write a comment...Your practice is no doubt provocative – just as Ngugi’s earlier propositions on language and post-colonial writing!
So now, Bill, I have two questions for you as a poet: firstly, what if La Francophonie (at the suggestion of Professeur Jean Tabi Manga, your former lecturer and once director of the Francophonie) awards you a prize for your work and effort (will you accept or decline?). The Francophonie have been worried about the dominance of English as a world language vis-à-vis the decline of French worldwide – and have been particularly vexed with Rwanda’s adoption of English as a language of educational instruction over French... so they should be really pleased with your work! Two other readers I will be interested to hear from are those that prone, or who belong to the bilingualism project (French-English, that is) variously fostered by Ahidjo, Fonlon, and Biya. Now I hope Biya doesn’t take your poems with him on his next visit to Bamenda at the end of this year to beef up his New Year’s promise to Cameroon university students (you bi chop epsi, non?)! On the other hand, what will the political front mobilizing for a free West Cameroon think of your work?
My second question: will you “débrouiller” to have this particular collection read in the school system in Cameroun, since you now share a common linguistic medium with those that move the cogs and wheels of the system? Or how will you get your poems to your intended readers (or at least, those most concerned?)
I’m sorry for the length of this note! Never took lessons from Ahidjo’s speech-making habits!
Achirri Chibikom
