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Femi Ojo-Ade's new poetry collection, Gorée's Unwavering Songs comes a few years after his first, the honorably mentioned Exile at Home. The wait, one daresay, is worth it. This collection is poignant and thought provoking. The poems delve into the innermost confines of Africa's soul to address myriad issues stemming from the dual tragedies of slavery and colonialism. At the basis lie the multifarious forms of black experience in Africa and the Diaspora. There is none other more qualified to explore the bittersweet life of the continental and the diasporic than Ojo-Ade whose birth and background, as well as personal and professional existence, are encompassed by both sites, such as Nigeria, The Gambia and Senegal, and the Americas and Brazil.
The titles in the collection are proof enough of the poet's deep knowledge of the spaces explored and the intricate, inescapable linkage between the two homes of Blacks. According to the poet, the black experience is a continuum over generations and eras. Africa is nothing without the Diaspora. African poetry follows its own particular drumbeat; similar to jazz, it emanates from spontaneity. An authenticity dipped in the sweat and blood of those that have seen their midday suddenly or slowly become midnight. The rhythm of Africa's soul reverberates throughout these poems. There is embedded the syncopated percussion of much pain, and pride in a culture maligned but magnificent in its very core.
The titles in the collection are proof enough of the poet's deep knowledge of the spaces explored and the intricate, inescapable linkage between the two homes of Blacks. According to the poet, the black experience is a continuum over generations and eras. Africa is nothing without the Diaspora. African poetry follows its own particular drumbeat; similar to jazz, it emanates from spontaneity. An authenticity dipped in the sweat and blood of those that have seen their midday suddenly or slowly become midnight. The rhythm of Africa's soul reverberates throughout these poems. There is embedded the syncopated percussion of much pain, and pride in a culture maligned but magnificent in its very core.