VITERATURE

To My Old Master

2012-01-31T14:56:00.000+01:00

Rare British Cameroons photos

2011-04-13T19:44:00.001+01:00

How much do you know your country's history?

The British National archive just posted these photos of the history of the British Cameroons (both the Norther and Southern parts) on its Flickr page.

The pictures, taken mainly by colonial staff, are part of a collection titled "Africa Through a Lens". According to the archives, “ In many instances we know little about the people or contents of the photographs and this is one of the reasons why we have published them online and asked people to comment and share their knowledge."

Can you make put some of these persons.If you can, please do.Our history is at stake.

click here to save some of it http://www.flickr.com/photos/nationalarchives/sets/72157625995788178/

EGYPT IN THE LINE OF HISTORY

2011-02-11T13:57:00.000+01:00

The Egyptian populace has proven to the world that when a people is united and act as one man, even the most everlasting of leaders(Mubarak, Biya, Ghadaffi,etc), can be forced to flee.Cudos Egypt,don't give up.

HooK or crook?

2010-11-30T12:38:00.001+01:00

The BBC in a program called PANORAMA has suggested a nail for CAF boss Isa Hayatou. If it is a full blown investigation, then corruption at upper leve;s has brought once again the bad side of Cameroon and given Hayatou an ealy retirement...though not the kind he had dreamed of. This article was published one the BBC website http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-11866165

Profiles: Fifa accused

Three senior officials at football's world governing body, Fifa, have been accused of corruption by the BBC's Panorama programme.

Nicolas Leoz, Issa Hayatou and Ricardo Teixeira are alleged to have taken bribes from a marketing company in the 1990s.
In addition, Jack Warner is accused of trying to procure $84,000 (£54,000) worth of 2010 World Cup tickets to sell on the black market.
The four men are part of a 22-man panel which will vote on Thursday on where to stage the 2018 and 2022 World Cup tournaments.

Nicolas Leoz

Nicolas Leoz (R) has a football stadium named after him

President of South America's football federation, Conmebol, Mr Leoz is a long-time official in the highest ranks of Fifa.
The 82-year-old Paraguayan, the oldest of the panel of 22 due to decide who will host the World Cup in 2018 and 2022, has been a member of Fifa's executive since 1998.
A lawyer by profession, his profile on Fifa's website also describes him as a sports journalist, part-time history professor and landowner.
He says his favourite football match of all time was Argentina's 2-1 defeat of England during the 1986 World Cup.
He rose to prominence in football administration as president of Paraguayan Club Libertad during the 1970s.
The team, from the Tuyucua neighbourhood of the Paraguayan capital Asuncion, plays at the Dr Nicolas Leoz stadium.
Mr Leoz is known as a staunch ally of Fifa President Sepp Blatter.

Issa Hayatou

Issa Hayatou has made controversial decisions in African football

The 64-year-old Cameroonian has been president of the Confederation of African Football (Caf) since 1988.
He is also a member of the International Olympic Committee, and helped organise the 2008 Beijing Games.
During the 1960s he was Cameroon's national 400m and 800m champion and competed in the first African Games in Brazzaville in 1965, according to his biography on the Olympics website.
He also spent time working as a PE teacher.
Involved in sports administration from the early 1970s, he was secretary general of the Cameroon Football Association by the age of 28.
His decades at the helm of African football have not been without controversy.
He received strong criticism earlier this year after the Caf decided to ban Togo from the African Cup of Nations; Togo were being punished for choosing to leave the tournament after a fatal gun attack on their team bus.

Ricardo Teixeira

Ricardo Teixeira is known as a political survivor

Ricardo Teixeira, 63, has been president of the Brazilian Football Confederation (CBF) for more than two decades.
He has the final say on hiring and firing national team coaches, who in are responsible for pleasing the world's most demanding fans.
A political survivor, he was elected head of the CBF for another seven-year term in 2007 with 43 out of 47 votes.
He is also head of the organising committee for the 2014 World Cup, to be held in Brazil.
Mr Texeira was married to Lucia Havelange, daughter of former Fifa president Joao Havelange, for almost 30 years until their divorce in 1997.

Jack Warner

Jack Warner sits as an MP and minister in Trinidad, as well as heading Concacaf

The 67-year-old is known as a colourful character, famous for his outspoken comments.
A lecturer in history by trade, he has been president of the Concacaf - the body covering football in Central and North America and the Caribbean - since 1990.
He also plays a prominent role in the government of Trinidad and Tobago as a sitting MP and minister for works and transport.
On his official website, he describes Trinidad & Tobago's qualification for the 2006 World Cup as his "salvation".
The website describes his biography, Zero to Hero, as the story of a man who "almost single-handedly willed and inspired a tiny nation to also achieve pride of place among the football playing nations of the world".
But he has long been a controversial figure. Mr Warner has been embroiled in legal cases lodged by the players who represented Trinidad at the World Cup who claim they were never paid the bonuses he promised them.

Pius Njawe:The man at Half-mast

2010-07-18T21:49:00.000+01:00

He was just a name to me and many other Cameroonian/African youths untill his unfortunate death in the US (by hook or by crook), when he suddenly came alive to me and i really can't forgive myself for not knowing him as close i do with the other names which make the heart beat on the continent. But i guess a farewell is proper for the man but not for his contributiob to the growth of our nation and continent.

I am convinced that he shall share a seat beside the great heroes of our land like Lumumba, Sankara, Un Nyobe and the entire "Hall of Deeds".

ADIEU to you with this contribution from the house of constructive talkatives.

IFJ Pays Tribute to Leading Cameroonian Journalist Killed in Car Accident in US

from The Vanguard - Independent News Source Cameroon: Cameroon Minister ... by AQ

From our inernational desk - Source IFJ -The International Federation of Journalists (IFJ) today added its voice to that of journalists in Africa and around the world who have been shocked by the news of the death of leading Cameroonian journalist Pius Njawe who has been killed in a car accident in the United States.

"Pius Njawe was a great friend of press freedom and also a loyal supporter of journalists, not just in Africa, but around the world," said Aidan White, IFJ General Secretary. "As an editor he was courageous and as an employer of journalists he always respected the need for decent working conditions -- one of the key foundations of a democratic media culture. We mourn his loss and we send our sympathy to the journalists of Cameroon."

According to press reports, Njawe was killed on Monday 12 July as the car he was travelling in broke down on the free way and was hit from behind by a truck, killing him and another passenger. He was in the country to attend a conference in Washington organised by the Cameroonian Diaspora on the political situation in Cameroon.

Pius Njawe was editor -in -chief of le Messager newspaper which he created in 1979. He led various campaigns for press freedom and independent journalism in Cameroon and, as a result, was arrested on many occasions by the authorities.

from The Vanguard - Independent News Source Cameroon: Cameroon Minister ... by AQ

that evening at the booze

2010-07-15T14:53:00.000+01:00

Ladies and Gentlemen, I got a little story to tell and please I require perfect serenity in this perimeter.

One evening at the booze with my gang of thieves, call them friends, after much shacking, makossaing and coupéing the decale, I went around the corner to give some booze to the grass. To my greatest astonishment I saw an angel; you can call her ‘fairy’, if you wish. But all I know is that she was very, very beautiful, I mean more beautiful than a flower that has never existed.

She was bouncing and waxing her tail, my eyes could not believe what they saw. And as usual, you know why I say as usual? (No) You don’t know? (No) It is because later that afternoon I had met one other angel, she was also beautiful; but not as beautiful as what I had before me. Then… ehhh before I had said “excuse me” she had said “hihihihi, I love you.” You know why? (Why?) It’s because of my charming person full of pomposity, dexterity and diligence; that personality which sends all quacks and ‘cut-pursers’ in the name of chaps, to their knees.

Yes, as usual, (what did you do?) The piss that was about to flow stopped, (and then what?) I put my hands in my pocket in my drunken state and made 1, 2, 3 steps forward, then spun around and said, “Hello angel, the look in your eyes makes me wanna drink kisses from your holy mouth”. And ladies and gents, you know what she did? (What?) Oh, she smiled wryly and then giggled “hihihihi”. That alone was like opium, for I collapsed in fantasy!

And then I heard a voice “get up boy; don’t forget that you are a lily among spear grass.” So I got up, put my hands again in my pocket and said, “Mama, your beauty makes me wanna take ya home. You don’t mind, do you?” And as they always do she said “No, I won’t just 2000 FRS will do.”

Oh my God! She… she… she is a prost… I nearly fainted. But the being in front of me was so enveloping in her pantalon trumpet and storied building-like slippers. Her smile made me poise and extend my hand dream-like, she took it.

We went pass the other losers who were still shacking. They all stopped their shacking just to take a look at an angel waxing her tail like a duck, to see the beauty which God …or Satan had created.

But unfortunately for me, after our up-hill ride, I started scratching something. It was worse at ‘pipi’ time; I would scream like a stabbed lion….

Guys, I now know a corpse when I see one- sweet, smart, shinning young chaps.
created:27/11/04 ed.11/01/10

gr Prayer

2010-04-12T15:17:00.001+01:00

Prayer

Lord save me,

From the dangerous wrath of my enemies,

From the poisonous tongues of slanderers please,

From the hypnotic bodies of girls,

From the misleading words of bad friends,

From the sweet voices of false prophets,

From the root of all evil, the love of money,

From the easy way of lies and good living.

And keep me

Safe and sound from evil thoughts,

From all forms of temptation.

Grant me thy mercy lord,

And fill me with your spirit,

That whole shall I forever be,

To testify forever thy glory,

Amen.

02/03/06

REMEMBER THE TITANS SPECIAL (FOR AMBE,BB AND NGWA-NGWA'A

2010-03-08T12:00:00.009+01:00

(Prologue) PROPHECY?

By MESEBE VISAS

BB was the consultant for the UB theatre Troup, directed by student Hilarious Ambe. As members of the troupe, we were in charge of preparing the stage for the launching of BB’s Disgrace: An Autobiographical Narcissus on March 7, 2007.

I was particularly excited (I was troupe leader) because I’d get to meet Babila Mutia whose poetry awakens my thrusts.

But it was Kwaseng who came- what a sacrifice. As his soft thunderous voice reproduced his brother’s paper, my eyes caught the title of the poem in the copy of Disgrace which I had just taken from Ambe, “Mamfe, this time tomorrow”. That made no sense but I said to myself “BB!”, and wrote down the title in my little note book.

Ambe’s last words to me were “that’s good my boy”, as I reported to him that every chair had been returned to the board room of the Faculty of Arts. This discussion took place at the office which “this time tomorrow”, would became a memorial ground full of flowers and mourning students- poetry on the glass door.

They both chased us from the reception at BB’s Bokwango home, as late as 11pm, while Ambe chased BB, “BB go and rest!”.

That “time tomorrow”, there was tears in Mamfe (prophecy fulfilled), we were in tears in Buea and they were in tears in Bafut, “this time tomorrow”.

(Poetry) FOR THE FALLEN THREE

BY NGIME EPIE

They left us shivering like featherless

Pigeons in the winter cold.

We are bare!

Nature plucked three of our finest lectionaries;

We have been robbed of the Gospel of

Iconoclasm and Theatriture.

Look there!

The gap yawns like a tired laborer.

BB, H.A and K.N. this is for you.

The mad philosopher-kings,

The harbingers of eruptive change-

Today we say; “Sad Death Day”

Today we remember you-

Unsung heroes.

But even as ‘you are gone’,

Your Prints stand tall for all to see.

Like a relay race,

Others have taken on the baton

Of Thought.

After all, does a Phoenix ever die?

06.03.10/1:30am

Ngime Epie is a Buea-based Anglophone writer. He writes poems, short stories, articles and jokes. Presently he is a language instructor.

(Poetry) Obasinjom Warrior (For Bate Besong)

by DZEKASHU MACVIBAN

Two-legged brain, transcendental transcriber
Contiguous of earth, monsieur
In the lions’ den — the Tiger
Imposed its revelator-role, soared
And saw what lies beneath. You
Embraced the tiger, yielded substance—
Rooted in your dream,
Taproot in bedrock, fault line and all.
You spun gray webs for tomorrow’s seeds
Now you tread the earth of Okigbo

Riverain, cosmic-built, out of time…
Spiral sights of sage hood, mystery.
Presences unfathomable.

You still wage battle

Lone conqueror, back heaped with destiny
Interrelated cultural odyssey.
His trenchant tongue of fire, precursor.
How shall I sing, O Ebibirman?

You pulled down the curtain
Exposing psycho and sycophancy of useless harlequins
(time and again, they tried to mend
their sand foundations…)

Now, compatriot, uncertainties caress
As I am drawn to the labyrinths of my being,
My haven-home jerked to life.

Dzekashu MacViban is a Poet, bookworm, critic, freelance photo journalist. My poems have appeared in Palapala Magazine and Saraba Magazine. See me more on my blog alernativemuse.blogspot.com.

(Poetry) TO MOUNTAIN VILLAGE!

(For Ambe Hilarious, late Director of the UB theatre Troupe, 2005-2007)

By MESEBE VISAS

To mountain village!

There to eat, drink, dance and be cheerful,

For with father lies our joy.

No time for weeping or gnashing.

It’s festivity time at Mountain Village,

It’s another triumph for father and heirs.

“We’ll meet at Mountain Village to have a drink!”-- Of victory,

We’ll tell the world that we’re for success poised.

The hills and mountains will not stop us.

The rivers will part in candid recognition,

The birds will ferry the gossip far-

The troupe is once again victorious,

Fatherless as they are, impecunious after Hilarious.

Hear the clatter they make from far!

It is the noise of happy children.

To mountain village!

There to eat, drink, dance and be cheerful,

For with father lies our joy.

No time for weeping or gnashing.

It’s festivity time at Mountain Village,

It’s another triumph for father and heirs.

19/05/07/09:02

(Poetry) BARNISHED

By MESEBE VISAS

Listen, to the radio!

It plays songs of sorrow,

It carries messages of horror,

The sun’s beam is frail

The radio echoes calamity

Where do we run to in this monstrosity?

Listen, to the radio!

We danced to that tune at the village,

But that was after another triumph;

This time the tune refreshes scars,

Reminders of good moments vanished.

Listen! Listen to the radio!

The words are hopeless to the sons of men.

It weakens their hopes of survival;

Their future is austere from today’s gossip.

We’ll no longer dance in the cold up those hills

To the listen to the radio tune.

Listen, to the radio!

It reminds of hilarious moments spent

By father and children,

Children born of the womb of arts-

That cheerful family now lies in wreck.

Where is my father?

Gone. Gone with his father and brother-

But not before we dined up those hills in the cold.

Listen, listen to the radio!

It foretells hard moments,

Moments of pain and sorrow,

Of perplexity, frustration and desolation.

It announces the names of dad’s authentic friends;

Those to watch over his offspring.

The melody that once jingled sweet and was hilariously danced

Now brings soreness to the hearts of disciples.

Listen!

Listen, to the radio!

It brings messages of orphan hood,

The mouth that was fed now gapes in void;

The smoke has cleared.

See how constricted the path is- and perilous too!

The song from the radio is not good.

It brings pain and sorrow.

Listen, to the radio!

It plays songs of sorrow,

It carries messages of horror,

The sun’s beam is frail

The radio echoes calamity

Where do we run to in this monstrosity?

12/05/07/00:32

Hubris

Caught a’height Victory Mountain

Two and co-theatre mates slain

Filling disciples’ hearts with Disgrace

Amidst that dreaded journey,

Went icons of picaresque

Novel’s cruelly

Leaving agape mouths without say-

Hearts pausing at the bay;

Letting souls of highest spirits mount stage,

To perform their own wanderlust on heavenly realms.

Crowds jammed twice that arena-

For “last honour” pay day;

To hear werewolves in sheep’s cloth

Howl fowl to their own deeds,

To see hypocrisy manifest with utmost ease.

But children of Shakespeare’s birth do the do-able

To glory thy names on gold- heart tablets;

The world to freeze at Iceland and beats die-

Only pounding martyr’s feet sending waves shocking to their ears,

Echoing “we shall meet again,

But after thou hast murdereth thine own tongue

And thine blood dost drink”.

Seeds sprouted in full blossom

Beautiful fruits transcending human intelligence

In messages of redemption.

The martyr dost liveth at demise

And the planet shaketh at his presence.

Enemies of virtue hide hideous faces in palms

With fear of what is text,

Thus continues their lives, like Ulysses stays open life’s text.

By their fruits they liveth

But thine flowers remain ever the sun.

25/03/07

REMEMBER THE TITANS SPECIAL

2010-03-08T11:26:00.000+01:00

remember the titans- Ambe and Bate Besong

2010-03-07T19:51:00.001+01:00

WATCH-OUT! the special edition for the memory of the great minds- Ambe and mentor of us all Bate Besong, comes up on the 8th of march at noon. on viterature.blogspot.com. stay connected.

ANY REPLACEMENT YET?

2010-03-01T18:26:00.000+01:00

Any Replacements yet?

Symposium in honour of Prof. Tala I. Kashim

Organizers: The Department of African Literature and Civilization in collaboration with both the Department of English, UNIYAO I and the Department of English, University  of Buea.

Venue: University  of Yaoundé I

Date: 3-4 June, 2010

Theme: History, Memory, Identity and Creative Imagination in Language and Literature.

Abstracts are to be directed to: talakashimconfab@yahoo.com on or before the 15th of April, 2010.

 Sub themes:

Language  
Imagination, language acquisition and language learning 
Defining, developing, refining, maintaining the mother tongue 
The interface between language and literature
 Language policy 
Language varieties/ multilingualism 
Language contact and bilingualism 
Ecolinguistics

Literature

Sites of memory

ü      Memory nad communication of models of African culture

ü      Memory and African indigenous knowledge

ü      Memory nad the muse of history

Migration, Diaspora, hybridity, identity and borders

ü      Intercultural/cross- cultural issues in literature and performance

ü      Rereading identities: towards a politics of dislocation and relocation of cultures

ü      The myth that write us: towards an invigoration of identities, communications and imaginations

ü      Betwixt and between tradition and politics: towards an invigoration of identities, communications and imagination

ü      Literary globalization and postcolonial literature

Theory and criticism

ü      Bioethics, ecology, ecocriticism

ü      Approaches to the study of literature

ü      Feminism and dynamics

ü      Rethinking culture: history and theory

Gender, culture and society

ü      Culture, tradition and the nation in postcolonial literature

ü      Women , gender and power

ü      The place of gender in African literature

ü      Literature and culture

ü      Stereotypes and roles

ü      Gender and culture

ü      Women’s bodies as sites for colonial ideas of imprisonment and opposition ideas of freedom

ü      Reading as a woman, writing as a woman

Orality and performance

ü      The dynamics of oral literature

ü      Myth, literature and identity

ü      Heroic traditions

ü      Literature as a transformation of inherited traditions

ü      Critiquing society through storytelling, poetry, popular culture and song

ü      Cultural assertion and identity negotiation

ü      Theater for development (TfD)

Abstracts are to be directed to: talakashimconfab@yahoo.com on or before the 15th of April, 2010. 

Conference governor:

Nol Alembong

Chair, Department of African Literature and Civilizations,

University of Yaoundé I

P.O. Box 8493 Yaoundé, Cameroon

Telephone: (237) 22 00 97 94

                        (237) 22 00 99 23

FAX: (237) 22 31 66 21

Remember the titans

2010-03-01T18:20:00.002+01:00

Hey gus its...3 years already. How time flies! This year's celebration of the life of the Titans- AMBE HILARIUOS, BATE BESONG and Kwaseng Ngwa-ngwa will be done in grand style on viterature.blogspot.com. send poems, articles, songs, images,reviews,etc on any theme relaevant to the occassion to the coordinator at vvisas@gmail.com.latest date for rerception is friday march 5,2010.Publication comes up on the 8th of march. LET ARTS THRIVE TO THE APEX.

that evening at the booze

2010-02-13T19:56:00.000+01:00

That evening at the booze

Ladies and Gentlemen, I got a little story to tell and please I require perfect serenity in this perimeter.

One evening at the booze with my gang of thieves, call them friends, after much shacking, makossaing and coupéing the decale, I went around the corner to give some booze to the grass. To my greatest astonish I saw an angel; you can call her ‘fairy’, if you wish. But all I know is that she was very very beautiful, I mean more beautiful than a flower that has never existed.

She was bouncing and waxing her tail, my eyes could not believe what they saw. And as usual, you know why I say as usual? (No) You don’t know? (No) It is because later that afternoon I had met one other angel, she was also beautiful; but not as beautiful as what I had before me. Then before I had said “excuse me” she had said “hihihihi, I love you.” You know why? (Why) It’s because of my charismatic personality full of pomposity dexterity and diligence; that personality which sends all quacks and ‘cut-pursers’ in the name of chaps, to their knees.

Yes, as usual, (what did you do?) The piss that was about to flow stopped, (and then what?) I put my hands in my pocket in my drunken state and made 1, 2, 3 steps forward, then spun around and said, “Hello angel, the look in your eyes make me manna drink kisses from your holy mouth”. And ladies and gents, you know what she did? (What) Oh, she smiled wryly and then giggled “hihihihi”. That alone was like an opium, for I collapsed in fantasy.

And then I heard a voice “get up boy; don’t forget that you are a lily among spear grass.” So I got up, put my hands again in my pocket and said, “mama, your beauty makes me wanna take ya home. You don’t mind, do you?” And as they always do she said “No, I won’t just 2000 FRS will do.” Oh my God! She… she… she is a prost… I nearly fainted. But the being in front of me was so enveloping in her pantalon trumpet and storied building-like slippers. Her smile made me poise and extend my hand, she took it.

We went pass the other losers who were still shacking. They all stopped their shacking just to take a look at an angel waxing her tail like a duck, to see the beauty which God, god or Satan had created.

But unfortunately for me, after our up-hill ride, I started scratching something. It was worse at ‘pipi’ time; I would scream like a stabbed lion….

Guys, I now know a corpse when I see one- sweet, smart, shinning young chaps.

27/11/04 ed. 11/01/10

LACUNA

2010-01-11T15:49:00.000+01:00

Lacuna

The smile of day met him sitting on his bed,

Staring at the pictures on his wall, listening to the chirps of birds by his window, seeming to decipher the words of their lovely song…

But, lost in deep thought… drowned by pictures of abstractions…of men marrying… of lovers kissing… of parents nursing their kids… of a man living in affluence…

His movie thoughts are halted with a sudden thud at his door “come in! No wait, wait! I’m naked!” he cries out, but too late. His maid was already in.

“I’m sorry… Mr. Thogane…I didn’t mean…I just wanted to call you down for breakfast.” “That’s o.k.… I’m used to it!”

But he does not go down immediately. He puts on his trousers and shirt, sits on his bed again …with maids bumping into the rooms of their masters, meeting them in Adam’s wear, and undressing to meet them in bed....

At table there is none to talk to. He eats wordlessly but instinctively. Consciously, he is thinking…of a big family at breakfast, of women sitted facing a man, of children sitting on both sides… of maids attending on them. He is a happy man driving his kids to school and his wife to work...

“Any problem, patron?”

“No problem sweet heart! Ah it’s you Clara!” He is back to the world, on his dining table. Once more ashamed of himself.

At work, he is a man getting a phone call from a woman, inviting her for lunch… of a couple feeding each other with ice cream over a flower-packed table… (Phone rings) “Hello darling”… “What! What did you just call me?”… “I…I’m so sorry Sir” answers the dreamer. “Bring me the files!”, “yes….” He starts arranging documents in the speed of ‘a’. “Oh my boss will kill me! But who was that beautiful girl I thought I was with?” He is back on honeymoon.

At night he is in his library, working. But seeing a couple in a blue- lit room, playing in each other’s arms… of children watching movies… some playing with toys. “Should I serve coffee, sir?”, “No. I’m going to bed.”

In bed he meets a couple seeking the warmth of each other. He hears dogs barking outside and wolves crying in the mountains, the crickets chirping wildly and bats flying overhead. He feels the cold of the night and the emptiness of his life.

He gets up, puts on the bed lamp and ties a rope to the ceiling fan…. He sees a couple playing in the garden in front of a starry house….

At the funeral there is none to mourn, but his lonely maid who later wipes her tears, “Now I’m rich!”

2005/Ed.11/01/10

ALBEIT

2010-01-11T15:41:00.000+01:00

Albeit

Albeit,

Albeit we strife, we toil, we soil,

We feast in wounds and maggots.

The pits and gullies remain for us mansions

And penury a never- ending glory.

We lift our necks

Above waves of subjugation in desperate clench

To furthering optimism.

Albeit,

Albeit we rank forever second,

To learning-on-the-job masters

And labour tiny to bloating idlers sweating

Greasy chunks of our spirited wealth

We lift our necks high,

Above waves of subjugation in desperate clench

To furthering optimism.

11/02/09/04:54