OPERA SOYINKA
The galaxy of Opera Soyinka ,
Weaned from the umbilical cord
of motherhood in nineteenth thirties ,
a descent of the geneology of Isara Remo,
whose inchoate incendiarism at the ivory
towers ,in the native+
land and Queensland,
afterwards,a stormy petrel,a pluralist ,
rampaging and
weltering through weevils
amidst colonies of wherret to set
thames
on fire ,
spurred dense incursion of the Royal Court
Theatre .
A piquant pounce of
the playwright,incognito
waded ,
to an illustrious boomerang from a puerile
poetaster ,
to the most obscurantist bard in living Africa .
In the dense
incurvate and incubus windbound
of wasteland dark ages,that plenitude ,a plethora of
windfalls ,
brought a Nobel ,on plebeian sand and whilom as
evermore ,it was a
great plough ,
not merely , for the
recluse with the plumbline ,nor as
pithy eerie
that shot pleonastic
Afrocentric zests on the frontburner
of
Nobel-literatis,but voluble sudoric stigma doused .
Still,a vantage ,smothered by its enchantment of dissident
platoon of infidel
bards,
wistful but witless,wiseacres but wobbling ,wire-pulled,
intrigued by wispy whiffs,
to defy apple pie order ,emulating bard of kongi ,as an
indefatigable wheelwright,
to pull a Nobel ,on
the indian files as a heiraparent to this
porous throne
of the most
illustrious pontoon ,a cameo vaudeville of
Afrocentric arts,
non pareil with elsewhere as league of voluble wastrels
and mean spirited
ilks ,wattled this plateau ;
jungled apologia of apple of discord,stomped by apple cart
and headstrong horrent ,hooped in its dickesian jamboree.
Does that applique apostatized , hasped and hacked the
golden feets of its Ijegba bard and distant galaxies ?
At his homily and hebetude ,bucaneers of freedom , stampedes
,
for oasis ,to quench
their thirsts of salivation ,in the desert of no
oars
It was quite an opera, when in midsixties ,a seizue of
presshouse ,
to broadcast psephological disorder encumbered by bereft of
practical politics
and a crusader of the
knight of old,a mystery gunman seemingly
like a conscript ,
with intendment , to castrate mass pogrom of the late
sixties,
carted away in solitary confinement , by the absolutist
regime ,
honed evidence of the indomitable hireling of his unparelled
gavel of vernacular justice,in variegated climes .
gavel of vernacular justice,in variegated climes .
Hobbledehoy histrionics sprouted from the jungle of Isara
Remo, hierophant of public domain justice,
scampering through its hilarious comedies and highwaymen
of its harum-scarum ilks ,
still arched apropos,
apposite mensrea ,to approximate and
appropriate his
visualization of the posterity,
across this supposedly hooded blanket cover ,was no mean feat
for this checkered antecedence.
Famous for oratory ,did he belch from his tummy” A tiger
doesn’t
proclaim its tigritude ,he pounces’’
An ornatory of the embellished tongue to debunk the
glorification
of Afrocentric past ,
As expounded ,By Leopold Sendor Seghor ‘s nostalgic nigritude
movement ,masqueraded in gutter denial of polymordernism .
In the ‘’Death And the
king Horsemen’’states he”The elephant
trails no tethering rope;that king is not crowned ,who will
peg an elephant ?’’
A pugilist of the revolutionaries ,sometimes tended
resignation
,as a protest against
Lord acton’s dictum on porous and
imperial power .
He was no stranger to solitary confinement ,incarcerated in
the
Twenty two months,cavalier
confinement of the Maiduguri
gaol ,
Executioner of the bucaneers of freedom , dipped mysticism
in
his pen ,
Behold, this tragicomedy ,kongi was behind bars ,still
undaunted
Sculptured dual novels –The Interpreters ,The season Of
Anomies
And then the autobiographical The Man Died,
Yet his play –kongi harvest was staged to rapturous aplomb
at the
World Festival Of
Negro Arts, In Dakar ,Senegal,
Still behind bars ,The Lion And The Jewel was produced in Accra, in
September ,ninety-sixtyseven ,and by November The Trials Of
Brother
Jero ,
And Strong Breed in the Green Wich Mews in New York were
produced
Simultaneously,
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