The Buchi I know - A Trubute

Tribute to Buchi Emecheta

      At the twilight of my undergraduate career at the university, I proposed three topics for my project as an English language – language stress student. The first was ‘Challenges of Men in Nigerian Family System’, citing Buchi Emecheta’s ‘The Joys of Motherhood’ and Chimamanda Adichie’s ‘Purple Hibiscus’. Secondly, I proposed ‘Bad Leadership and Corruption in Post-Independence Africa’ in Ayi Kwei Amah’s ‘The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born’. Lastly, I proposed to look into ‘Women’s Influence in Politics of Nigeria’ using the works of Ola Rotimi’s ‘Our Husband Has Gone Mad Again’ and Emeka Nwabueze’s ‘Parliament of Vultures’. But my supervisor was to rephrase the first topic to ‘Gender Inequality in Emecheta’s ‘Joys of Motherhood’ and Adichie’s ‘Purple Hibiscus’, while approving same.

      I would not know the reason behind this change and subsequent approval. But I was happy the exercise was going to give me ample opportunity to take a critical insight of the work of an author, not only from my hometown but a woman I have come to admire overtime through her works even though we have not met. I think her first work I encountered was ‘The Bride Price’. I could recall in my tender observation when I came across the name of my town in a book for the first time, I had this narcissist feeling at the time. Subsequent years exposed me to the other of her works like ‘Second-Class Citizen’, ‘The Slave Girl’, ‘The Rape of Shavi’, ‘Destination Biafra’ and eventually ‘The Joys of Motherhood’.

     

Reading any of the works of Buchi Emecheta takes the reader into the author’s world. Although, almost all her works are autobiographical accounts of her personal experiences. Her simple diction reflects contemporary work of arts and the realities of our modern and traditional African society. She preaches womanhood and woman emancipation. The bane of total subjugation from the largely patriarchal society is expressed in her works. These, she relived in a most simplistic and free-minded disposition.

      Buchi was a self made woman and epitomized the strength of a woman in no great measures. She is a model to the girl child education owing to a childhood experience that almost denied her basic education in life. Buchi Emecheta was born as Florence Onyebuchi Emecheta on August 14, 1944 in Lagos.  She has Mid-western Ibo parents who hail from Ibusa in the present Delta State.  She grew up in a colonial family where her father was a railway worker in the 1940s and her mother, a full-time housewife. Her early education saw her through Ladilak School and Reagan Memorial Baptist School in Yaba, Lagos. But the death of her father when she was nine threw a cog in her educational wheel. It was only by dint of divine providence that she was given scholarship to continue her secondary education by the missionaries at Methodist Girls School. Quite earlier, her resilience and ability to convince her father on the numerous benefits of education saw her early tutelage.

      In fulfillment of her life desire as a woman, on concluding her secondary school career at age 16, she got married to a man she had been engaged since she was eleven years old. Her husband, Sylvester Onwordi immediately left to London to further his education.  Buchi joined him in 1962 and bore him five children in six years.  But the marriage was ruled by a lot of problems.  Buchi wrote a lot during her spare time in order to keep her sanity; however, her husband was deeply suspicious of her writing, and he ultimately burnt her first manuscript. At the age of twenty-two, both parties parted ways.  Buchi earned a Bachelor of Science degree in Sociology at the University of London, while she also worked alone to keep her five children. This feat came with a lot of challenges, a carking one at that. At a time, the preference for the welfare of her children became uppermost in her mind and she did not care a hoot about her decision. This was when from 1965 to 1969, Emecheta worked as a library officer for the British Museum in London. From 1969 to 1976 she was a youth worker and sociologist for the Inner London Education Authority, and from 1976 to 1978 she was a community worker.

     She blossomed in her writing career with some notable novels like In the Ditch (1972); Second-class Citizen (1974); The Bride Price (1976); The Joys of Motherhood (1979); Destination Biafra (1982); among others.  She has also written TV plays like A Kind of Marriage and Family Bargain, and children novels.  Some of which are Titch the Cat (1979), The Wrestling Match (1980), etc.

      Buchi Emecheta has published articles like “The Black Scholar”, (November-December 1985), New York Times book review, April 29, 1990; World Literature Today, Autumn 1994.  Together with the son, she runs Ogwugwu Afor Publishing Company under which most of her works have been published. She won the Jack Campbell Award in 1979 with her novel, The Slave Girl (1977).  She also has the Arts Council of Great Britain between 1982-3.

      Her themes of child slavery, motherhood, female independence and freedom through education won her considerable critical acclaim and honours, including an Order of the British Empire in 2005. Emecheta once described her stories as "stories of the world where women face the universal problems of poverty and oppression, and the longer they stay, no matter where they have come from originally, the more the problems become identical." She has been characterized as "the first successful black woman novelist living in Britain after 1948".

     Generally, the life and times of a woman who felt the brunt of life under a most convoluted atmosphere, was crowned with a mixture of sorrow and gladness. Towards the twilight of her life, she was taken to the nursing home, yet her lively disposition of a writer held sway. She was ever lively and always relives memories of her humble beginning and cultural background. She was a lover of culture and never failed to relish in the intrigues of her Ibusa tradition anytime she was in the midst of her people. As a community builder, she was staunch and her advocacy towards the development of her town through the umbrella body of Ibusa Women Community Development Union (IWCDU), London chapter was unparalleled.

       Most of these attributes were what made the thematic carriage in her novels unique. Her style and employment of Igbo proverbs and adages in her works are apt. The mark of which makes a tropical writer. Her works reflects feminism but she vehemently opposed being a feminist. The high themes reflected in ‘The Joys of Motherhood’ gave credence to the book’s recommendation in the school certificate curriculum in Nigeria.

      Buchi classes as one of the authors with the highest number of published novels and highest in the women fold in sub-Saharan Africa. She has indeed set a standard that will be hard to fill. As we celebrate this writer who has impacted in the lives of many with her works, the many comments and accolades pouring out are testimony to this fact. She had a way of mirroring the society through her personal experiences.

Emeka Esogbue launches ‘Essentials of Anioma History’

It was a roll call of crème de la crème of the traditional institutions in Anioma area of Delta State as the Ibusa-born historian and social activist, Emeka Esogbue launched his new work, ‘Essentials of Anioma History’. The book was published in the United States of America under the publishing arrangement with SGNT Publishing firm owned by Mr. Chinazor Onianwah. It is part of the publisher’s resolution to publish 650 titles in the different ethnic groupings in Nigeria. Alongside books unveiled to kickstart this arrangement were other titles like ‘It Takes a Village to Name a Child’ by Chinazor Onianwah and ‘Imagine Lagos and Other Stories’ by another Ibusa-born literati, Philip Ngozi Ifechukwude.

Highlights of the event featured a resounding review of the book “Essentials of Anioma History” by Prof. Austin Uwandulu. He did justice to the historical resource material by taking the entire audience on a journey into the heart of the relevance of the book to the Anioma nation. In her remark, Ms. Lauretta Onochie, Special Adviser on Media to the President reminded the audience on the importance of identifying our origin as Anioma people. Obi (Dr.) Martha Dunkwu – the Omu of Okpanam and Anioma who was accompanied by Omu Theresa Uwadia, the Omu of Onicha-uku, reiterated the need for the Anioma people to set up structures to appreciate the Omu institution by catering for their welfare. She lamented that it is quite unfortunate that the government is not recognizing the institution with a bid to initiate salary packages for their upkeep despite their continuous plea.

Other commentators who spoke on the relevance of the book and structure of Anioma geographical setting were the chairman of the occasion, HRM, John Nwafor, the Isama of Ashama kingdom, HRM, Obi Kikachukwu, the Obi of Ubulu-Unor, HRM, Charles Anyasi, Obi of Idumuje-unor and author of the book, “Anioma: Resolving the Identity Crisis”. Others who graced the occasion were Onowu Amaechi Nwaenie, the Uwolo of Ibusa, Chief Celestine Okafor, Ikwelle of Ibusa, Enyi Doris Mokobia, Kpakpando of Akwukwu-Igbo who played a dual representation, Rev. Ifeanyi Okwuobi, Chief Nicholas Onianwah (uncle to the publisher), Onowu Austin Abuah, secretary of Obuzor-in-council, Mr. Luka Igbonoba, legislative aide to Senator Peter Nwaoboshi, Chief Kizito Ijeh, ace broadcaster, Ngozi Odiwe among other prominent Ibusa sons and daughters. The chief launcher was Chief Anthony Chukwukelue Adigwe, a quintessential Ibusa-born gentleman.

The occasion which held at Linkon Event Centre, Ogboli – Ibusa also witnessed cultural performances and exhibition of Anioma priceless Akwa ocha as regaled by delectable Miss kate Igbodo, Dr. Prisca Okeleke and others. The capacity hall was filled to the brim with history and cultural enthusiasts drawn from across Ibusa and anioma towns.

During his vote of thanks, the author, Emeka Esogbue expressed happiness with the turnout and thanked all, especially the royal fathers who sacrificed their busy schedules to grace the well-packaged cultural gathering.

‘GOOD EVENING STREET’

Jabari and Tekena had just risen from a cool spot at Ajegunle where their friend, Pere had given them a good Sunday treat. They were drunk, and by the time Pere excused himself to urinate, it did not occur to them that he had gone home for good. He was heavily dazed to stupor. Madam Tee, the owner of the drinking bar never bothered about her money, knowing that Pere would always pay – having being in control. He had led the way when the three friends entered earlier on. In his usual manner, he hailed Madam Tee as if the person he was talking to was deaf.

‘The unbeatable Madam Tee…! The only Madam Tee in the universe!’ He hollered.

‘Pere-winkle! Pere-whiskey! That’s me. We are not two in this town,’ she boasted while returning with her own coinage of Pere’s name.

‘Madam Tee. Wetin dey? My friends just show from Ebutte-Meta. I want you to give them a good treat.’

‘O why! Everything dey. Isi ewu, nkwobi, fish pepper soup, which one una want?’

‘First give us drinks before you serve us well. You know my usual na. My friends na Star and Harp dem dey take.’

Momentarily, a fair-skinned girl with beautifully braided hair sashayed forward with a tray containing three bottles of beer – Gulder, Star and Harp and three glass cups. She positioned in front of the table where the three friends had comfortably seated at a vantage corner inside the drinking spot. They were busy engrossed in a discussion, but Jabari’s eyes took a sharp squint and focussed on the service girl, Eno. What he saw enticed him and it was obvious he needs to relish this flirtatious opportunity. He cast a leering look on her fully developed breast which jutted out seductively inside a sexy bodice that glued to her succulent skin like araldite and wood. Her luscious lips clamped together displayed a chocolate-coloured lipstick with a minty-flavoured wetlips, running atop it. It was invitingly glittering and tempting. She smelt fresh from a mild flavoured perfume or cream which followed her everywhere she went. Jabari could not control his lust as his eyes almost popped out staring at Eno. His curiosity made it hard to find out if it was mere admiration or she tried to read the inscription on Eno’s bodice. But as he twisted his neck restlessly, the latter was confirmed. He heaved a sigh on finally picking the wordings clearly – ‘I had it rugged on a hilltop.’ He went mad with ecstasy without showing it out. He fantasized it were real, doing it with Eno. He imagined himself on top of her spreading her legs wide apart and announcing to the whole world as he screw the Blue Mountains out of those gazellic eyes. He would then turn her, grab her hips from behind and send her to ‘cloud nine’ on a doggy ride. He was still relishing in his Fantasy Island when Pere vigorously smacked the back of his head after a wave of his fingers across his face severally did not yield any result.

‘J-a-b-a-r-i,’ Pere drawled the word to suit the emphasis he wanted to make. ‘You can never change. Wetin you dey think about this small girl? You no go go marry?’

‘O boy,’ coming back from his catalepsy. ‘I be don go. Imagine wetin dem write for the top of the person wey you dey call small girl. I swear this girl don ripe. See her chest na.’

As Eno turned after emptying her tray, she swayed her waist to send a sensuous signal to her hips which were concealed in tight blue low-waist jeans. She twiddled her waist making her buttocks shook at every step as if she knew what was going on inside the mens’ minds. Jabari head turned as a tinge of fluid dropped underneath his trouser. He felt it and had to suppress it by pressing his already turgid penis with his right palm. Pere noticed Jabari’s dilemma and let out an expression, hitting Tekena’s shoulder and both of them kicked off a raucous laughter.

‘JB, you don finish,’ Tekena teased.

‘TK, you no go understand. You see this girl waist?’

‘Na im make you wan disgrace yourself?’ Pere chipped in. Make we drink comot for here before Ajegunle girls go suck you dry.’

‘Pere, no be this thing wey you dey talk o, if I see opportunity now now, I go chop this babe o. Straff am clean I swear.’

‘E don do, make we drink.’

They settled down on their drinks as Eno came back with three miniature mortars containing isi ewu sausage. They had thin slices of fresh green utazi leafs on top. As she bent to drop them on the table, Jabari took a steady glance at Eno’s breasts pushing the pink bodice out. He went on a solemn soliloquy ‘men, I feel like grabbing those balls in my hands.’ He squeezed his palms and twitched his mouth licking his lower lips with his tongue as he talked to himself. But he shrugged it off like a scale falling out of his eyes.

By the time the three friends realized that they had spent about three hours at Madam Tee’s cool spot, they had emptied nine wooden bowls of isi ewu – three apiece. They had also downed eight bottles each of their varied brands of beer. Their conversations this time had assumed a dimension where other customers in the bar had been co-opted into what was supposed to be private discussions on their private lives and business. Pere, who was very popular in the area, had ordered free beer for the gatecrashers. This also included Madam Tee and her service girls. Jabari particularly made sure that Eno benefited from the free drink bonanza. The atmosphere inside the open bar was now tensed with exhilaration with Pere in charge as the controller-in-chief.

Madam Tee never had fears about her bill at all because she was used to such scenarios in the past. She knew that Pere would always pay when the tension died off. Most times, it was the day after such drinking sprees, except he was broke. Madam Tee would equally understand and grant him that concession. He would pay up whenever he got the money. He worked as a seafarer.

So, when Pere excused himself to urinate and never came back, Madam Tee understood that it was one of his numerous antics of signing off at such gatherings, especially when he had had his full. Otherwise, he would be knocked off, heavily intoxicated. She knew what to do. Sum up the bill and keep for him till his eyes were clear and senses back. His friends, Jabari and Tekena were still downing what was supposed to be their last bottles. Their systems were fully charged and their eyes heavy from drunkenness.

‘Where is Pere? TK, where is Pere?’ Jabari asked unconsciously as if just realizing that Pere has left. ‘Perebowei, P-e-r-e,’ he pronounced the word with such tautness as if the bearer was within ear reach. ‘Okay, Pere has disappeared and left us to drink and die in this jungle. My God pass you,’ he soliloquized. ‘TK, finish up and let’s go away from this zone before we get swallowed in this coup that Pere has plotted.’

Jabari’s manner of language under his drunken state sent all in the drinking spot reeling with laughter. His wit was just sharp, accentuating his tone.

‘This guy is just funny,’ one of the customers who had benefited from Pere’s goodwill of free drink threw in, to no one in particular.

‘TK, e be like wetin I dey talk no dey enter your ears. Pere don go o. if you like sit down and drink more beer. I go soon leave you now if you no ready.’ He tried to stand, but staggered. He got hold of himself but shove the chairs around him to noisy screeches. ‘E be like me I go go piss my own too.’ He held the flap of his trouser as if he were unzipping it. He could not maintain the balance. So, he fell to his chair again and drank up the remaining content in his tumbler, leaving a trace of frothy foams on his well-trimmed moustache. He is a handsome young man with an imposing stature most women could not resist. He sprang up again like someone who had just recovered his strength and motioned to Tekena.

‘TK, movement,’ he led out.

It dawned on Tekena that Jabari was serious now. He hurriedly rushed into his mouth the last content of his beer in his tumbler in one gulp. He was also drunk, but in control of himself more than Jabari. He staggered a little to join Jabari who was already outside, facing the road.

‘Bob, how we go take connect the next bus stop (hics).’ Jabari asked Tekena, fully aware that both of them were novice in the area.

‘Make we dey go first, at least na main road be this. We no go fit loss like that,’ Tekena responded. He was confident that they would never get lost in such an area.

Jabari and Tekena meandered one or two streets and got confused.

‘TK, na loss we dey loss so o. make we ask question before dem go flash two adult like us for TV,’ Jabari posited.

‘Wait first.’

‘No be wait issue be this o. night don dey come o.’

‘Come make we follow that apiam way, e be like say e connect the other side as people dey come out from there.’

‘TK, this no be time to assume. If night meet us, maybe rain come hammer us join, na double wahala o. Make you look sky o.’

‘Make we try am first.’

They took the short cut and confronted a small open gate made of zinc. It led them into a narrow rough footway. Darkness was gradually encroaching along the path that looked like a cul-de-sac. The short avenue actually served a great purpose for passers-by owing to the near pedestrian traffic that kept this mini road busy. People trooped in and out, and seemed to collide with one another due to its narrow and jagged platform. But the moment Jabari and Tekena strolled in and joined the teeming passers-by; something strange struck them about the corner. First, there were only two houses – bungalows built alike and presumably for the same purpose. Both houses faced this thoroughfare that was demarcated by a high wall fencing another compound. Secondly, they countenanced a particular mood hovering within this vicinity; a mood they could not decipher immediately; a mood that spoke that something unusual takes place there. The latter discovery discomfited them. A tradition prevailed there. ‘Oga, good evening’ rented the air as soon as they approached the buildings on this blind alley. Each salutation came with special signs and lip whistling, and they were only made to men. A jostle would follow should any man showed any sign of stopping. They discovered that the figures who masterminded these salutations were concealed in the dark balcony that confronted these buildings – an extension that gave them enough space for their activities. Their full identities were obscured by the condescending night. Some of them stood few gaps from one another, while some were seated, close to the entrance into the buildings. It was a dark verandah; so pitch as night itself. The only glimmer of light there were red heads of burning cigarettes from the lips of the figures behind the darkness. Wreathes of smoke from them, gradually coiled into the air. Its odour mixed with harsh cologne oozing from the dark covers sent a putrid smell around the environment, and almost made them vomit. Jabari almost missed a step as he gave Tekena a light tap.

‘TK, na ashi zone be this o.’ But he did not understand.

‘JB, you say wetin?’

‘Na ashewo house be this o,’ he repeated. This time, a bit audible.

Before Tekena could hush Jabari that such names were forbidden in such places, one of the women had already overheard him. The atmosphere changed as if a sacrilege had just been committed.

‘Who talk that thing? I say who mention that word,’ came a high voice from one of the dark balconies.

‘Wetin be that?’ another voice asked, concerned.

‘Somebody dey call him mama Ashewo for there.’

At the mention of the word, Tekena knew they were referring to them. More conscious than Jabari, he pinched him to keep quiet so that they do not find out they said it. The path was still busy with people passing. Only few men were noticed entering into the brothel.

‘The person no dey talk again. You for talk make we bathe you with business water,’ the second speaker thundered again.

‘Na so dem no go mind their business.’

Jabari and Tekena were now maintaining a quiet pace, almost surreptitious and careful. Even the mention of ‘business water’ sent them on wild imagination. Whatever it meant, they knew that there was something ominous about it. Tekena gave a sign of the cross as he quickly discarded the thought from his mind. His prayer was that he successfully dragged Jabari out of that zone. But barely a minute after an averted saga between Jabari and the sex hawkers, a drama broke out from the second building which they were now approaching. A manly shadow was dragged out of the dark veranda, almost half naked. Though, it was dark, they could still figure out something from the shadows.

‘You dey craze? How you go fuck finish, you no go pay.’

The words fell out so crude from the mouth of a figure that looked like a middle-aged woman of about sixty. Jabari began to laugh, but Tekena urged him to move faster as what seemed to loom ahead was big trouble.

       

‘But I tell you before we start say na N100 I hol.’ A younger voice pleaded, shamefully.  The situation was not the one he would hide anything as far as he would be let off the hook. He was already hanging his shirt on his shoulder and now on his boxers’ short only. His villain gripped him tightly.

‘This boy don mental o. You hold N100 come find toto wey you go fuck. You think say na akara business we dey do here? You no know say we dey pay for rent here?’ A different voice entirely threw in from the side.

‘Abeg leave them, na them know as them negotiate. Make I face my own business.’ A third voice said, insouciantly.

Upon the scene the young man and his accuser were trying to create, no passer-by paused to watch the unfolding drama. All their movement were usual, brisk as ever.

‘Nothing wey person no go see for this Ashewo people. So so fight, quarrel, wahala all the time.’ A passer-by concluded, still going his way. His luck was that there was commotion already; hence his utterance would have incited serious trouble.

‘JB, waka fast make we comot for here before gbege burst for here.’ Tekena dragged Jabari gently as they left the scene on their way home.

ESSENTIALS OF ANIOMA HISTORY

THE BOOK, "ESSENTIALS OF ANIOMA HISTORY" BY Emeka Esogbue is now ONLINE.
You can now buy your book, "Essentials of Anioma History" from Amazon. All you need to do is click on the link I have provided you below and order your copy and you get the book.
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Imagine Lagos and Other Stories

Anioma: The Good Land - a poem

The poem – ANIOMA: The Good Land

Anioma! Ani di nma!
The land of my cradle blues
The beautiful bride
Baked in the oven of peace and love and joy, unmatched
Dressed in unblemished apparel
That mark her people
So unique, they pride themselves.

The land that flows with milk and honey
Her fecundity, her people flaunts.
With fields of barns to feed
And cassava to augment
No wonder her soil
So rich, treads in fear of desecration
With tubers growing like giant poles
And her fishes, a threat to navigating ships.

Bound in the heart of familiar foes
To test her might
Her territory, dared
Springs the Ekumeku warriors
To guard the fort
That once held the ace of the green regency.

Oh! A people
Sired in diverse culture
Aye rich and oiled in uniqueness.

From her glorious fountain of harmony
Visible in luscious glow
That shines in her offsprings, dazzling
Atop empires
That pillars the world.

I love the land of my birth
From Aniocha, Ndokwa, Ika, Oshimili
Where her purity in tenets
Besets a parliament of peace
And watched by the great river.
Anioma, the land of my cradle blues
I crave and love.

Philip Ngozi Ifechukwude © 2016

 Analysis of the poem:

The six stanza poem begins with an opening eulogy describing Anioma as the good land ‘ani di nma’ depicting her richness in topography and further enhances her positioning as a ‘beautiful bride’ to many suitors. Naturally, only a beautiful and well-groomed bride places herself to the enticement of hordes of would-be suitors seeking her hand in marriage. The environment is ‘baked in an oven of peace and joy’ that is unmatched. This tenet stands her out in the present day Delta State as the ethnic grouping is devoid of the incessant militancy attached to other ethnic domain despite her sizeable control of oil in the Aboh axis of the area. There is a showcase of pride and class attached to her unblemished white apparel ‘akwa ocha’ which her people are known with. Indeed, anywhere in the world, an Anioma son and daughter stands out adorning this unique apparel.

In stanza two, a paradigm of fertility is expressed as the imagery of a land flowing with milk and honey holds sway. It depicts the richness of her soil that is ever ready for cultivation. Without mincing words, travellers plying between the eastern and western part of the country always make a stop over at Anioma towns like Umunede, Igbodo, Onicha-Ugbo and Ekwuoma for dependable staple food items like well-fried garri, yam and cassava marsh. Going interior enroute Abuja and other northern axis, fishes – fresh and dried from Ugbolu and Illah makes a travellers’ delight on arrival to his base. An average Anioma farmer floats a rich barn of yam at the end of every farming season because of her rich soil.

Her peoples’ resistance to the British Imperialists with the Ekumeku uprising is expressed in stanza three. Thus, the fearless and warrior status of the Anioma man is not taken for granted. Her territory is ever secured for visitors and her children alike. Her unity of purpose which played in their valiant show of resistance to the powerful weaponry of the British army of soldiers remains a focal point of Anioma unity today.

Upon the uniqueness that lies in the diverse cultural environment and background that sired the comity of towns that make up Anioma nation, love still abounds. This trait is carried in stanza four where the descendants and migrants from Nri, Isu, Ezechime, Igala and Bini have lived and co-habited in love of one another for ages without segregation.

Aniomaland is blessed with illustrious sons and daughters who control different empires in the world today. In stanza five, it is evident through the imagery that their visible exploits all over the world sees them dazzle in the world of sports, shipping and maritime, oil sector, education, freight forwarding, banking and finance, airspace management, insurance, transportation, military, music and technology. Both dead and living Anioma legends remain celebrated till date. Anioma has produced and is still producing giants in their own world and areas of specialization all over the world.

Finally, the poet’s love for his ethnic enclave of Anioma remains unparalleled. This forms a narcissist spirit that flows in his veins as he relishes the growing up in the environment of Aniocha, Ndokwa, Ika, Oshimili under which acronym the name is derived. The inherent beauty attached to the land of his birth is painted in this stanza, while the blues that adorned his growing from cradle to adulthood makes a sumptuous reminiscence.