By Henry Akubuiro
I Know a Thing or Two About Madness, Stanley Ejiogu, Brain-Box Books, Port Harcourt, 66, 2022
In the middle of reading Stanley Ejiogu’s sophomore poetry volume, I Know a Thing or Two About Madness, for this review, ANA released its 2022 poetry shortlist, with the book earning a place on the list. Ejiogu has been self-effacing as a poet, but the profundity of his poetry hasn’t been in doubt for those who follow his vignettes.
Ejiogu functions as a poet, activist, essayist, philosopher, political commentator and a musicophile sold to eclectic sonic vibes. All these distinctions echo directly or indirectly in this poetry volume. But it’s the activist in him that the reader sees glaringly in poetic layers. In verses, he is a poet without a poker face.
I know a Thing or Two About Madness isn’t a book about mental illness. The esoteric monologues of the insane or the inner darkness orbited by their tribe do not resonate in Ejiogu’s verses. The madness here typifies the righteous indignation of a malcontent throwing stones at the glass house of antipodal forces. It also typifies overbearing dominion and psychotic rattlings that imperil social equilibrium. Where the poet finds a derelict nation, he envisages a monolith to champion a rebirth. A stone casting poet like Ejiogu is impervious to hisses or kisses from autocrats.
I know a Thing or Two About Madness contains 43 poems in a collection the poet elects to push truth from sequestered province into the light. Ejiogu chastises the powers that be in the same way he questions their abetters from the other side of the divide. For him, we have surrendered leadership to a lunatic on the throne whose designs are insidious, in the opening poem, “The Throne Abhors Vacuum”. Thus, the “Madness has come to stay” lamentation (p.2). This line puts the unwary in a mood.
The poet is chagrined by the hate we breed as individuals, which has robbed us of our humanity. Thus, “It has done us in… ,” becomes a refrain to drive home its repercussions in “The Hate We Breed”.
No matter the bleak reality of today, the poet believes a day of reckoning shall come where every oppressor must answer for their misdeeds. This day of reckoning is described as “the day after tomorrow” on page 10. The darkest hour is nearest the dawn: this is a leitmotif that one encounters too often in I Know a Thing or Two About Madness. Another instance is in the poem, “As the Turbulence Gathers Momentum”. Here, we encounter a slumbering captain whose engine is put off as the flight drifts endlessly. There seems an air of helplessness among the crew members on board, who, rather, choose to enjoy themselves. Amid the turbulence, the passengers are coming home to roost, still.
The activist in the poem, “I said I loved You”, hasn’t fled the country like many. He, instead, floats with the wind in calm fury. He floats and rises like a new dawn. Even when the taste of the flute has gone sour, laced with the sounds of Surugede —of the spirits— the voice is aware of its deadly imports, yet there is a burning desire to continue the struggle to save the nation, no matter the implications.
A reward is what comes with hard work. When it doesn’t come your way, you are bound to feel unappreciated. The theme of unappreciation echoes in “They Will Say Nothing About my Poetry”. The voice laments: “They Will Say nothing about my poetry/ Not when the ink is a rebel/And angry hard lines hardly win a prize” (p.31). The poet also alludes to horrible images hanging about the walls of familiar dreams which his verses depict, which also might have robbed it of validation. But the consolation for this social crusader is that the “prize of the activist waits in heaven”/As the bars of the hurdles get unraised” (p. 22). Chances however, are that this air of despondency is about to change for good.
Going back to the past, the poet revisits Biafra. We come across the exuberance of Benjamin Adekunle, aka the Scorpion, during the war, an aggressive soldier, who bit and pricked anything that moved, in the poem, “A Scorpion Named Ben”. In “Uli Airstrip” and “Requiem”, ravages of the Biafra War reverberate, too.
What accounts for the dominant sobriety in this poetry collection is the activist bent of the poet and his vision of a better society. From the sorry past of his nation, he yearns for a better future where love and equity reign. Ejiogu is a poet whose poems are couched in inviting lyricism.