Gold, Nick Makoha

GOLD

GOLD

Nick Makoha

The British Empire did not exist in the Middle Ages. In the early Middle Ages, England was part of other empires. Also, the continent that we call Africa is the oldest inhabited territory in the world. From Africa, many great civilisations have arrived that have contributed to the development of humankind. There was the Nubian empire of Kush which stood for a thousand years. It was an economic powerhouse. It was both a trading partner and a military rival to Egypt.

Other great African civilizations are The Kingdom of Aksum, The Songhai Empire, the land of Punt, The Carthage Empire (Rome’s rival in the Punic Wars) and The Mali Empire. Often the lens of history only focuses as far back as the colonisation of Africa when seven European countries during the age of New Imperialism (1881-1914) scrambled for its control. Africa went from being 10% controlled by Europe to 90%.

What is often foregrounded is the slave trade but other damages to the continent are the stripping of is assets such as Gold. In my journey to understand my own African history I was led to Musa Keita I or Mansa Musa the ninth Mansa of the Mali Empire. He was the wealthiest person in history and came to power in 1312 C.E. While in Cairo, Mansa Musa met with the Sultan of Egypt, and his caravan spent and gave away so much gold that the overall value of gold decreased in Egypt for the next 12 years. Stories of his fabulous wealth even reached Europe. The Catalan Atlas, created in 1375 C.E. by Spanish cartographers, shows West Africa dominated by a depiction of Mansa Musa sitting on a throne.

My poem Codex 12 speaks in the voice of Mansa Musa and looks at Mansa Musa’s hajj to Mecca in 1324 C.E. On this trip he travelled with an entourage of tens of thousands of people and dozens of camels, each carrying 136 kilograms (300 pounds) of gold. The second poem looks at Balthazar the black King of Macedonia who gave the gift of myrrh to Jesus.

Codex 12

Nick Makoha

To enter a desert is to enter a sea. Reader, when I was king, there was no face of a man I could not carry. As your sovereign, the kingdom was my chorus. I did not fear the night and its terror. I lived as a kite above men. Dressed my subjects in Persian silk and brocade. I adorned their staffs with gold from Bure. Gold was my true advantage binding the serpent of one’s will to the dragon of one’s spirit. When I was king, my beloved followed as if I were another road, a way to heaven. She covered my hands in dust. The whites of her eyes never left me. When I was the wick, she was the flame. When I was the scale, she was the balance. You were my light in this world. Were we not better than Thebes and its valley of kings, where the Nile’s water surrounded us? Where we lived as pilgrims in a town void of walls and solid buildings. When I was king, in the month of Rajab the Amir escorted me on horseback to Cairo. Did we not lavish them with rare confection? Did we not treat them with difference? In the Souks what quarrel did we have with shadows and custom? In the parlours and the street-corners, what did we not purchase from the vendors? Gold had no equal. When it was spent, we continued to Mecca. A flock of birds followed our trail as well as bandits. They left me with nothing but my people. But it was you Creator who brought me to silence at Mount Arafat. Not thirst or hunger. You were the column of smoke. The light on my crooked path. Now that you have found me don't leave me to this earth? I have no need for it. Enough!

Where is Balthazar

Nick Makoha

After - Adoration of the Magi: stained glass panels by the Master of the Holy Kindred, Germany, about 1500. Museum no. C.74 & 75-1919

What is it in stars that puts faith in a man to leave his fattened cows and pregnant wives for the east? Directed by faith and dream, he battles impatient storms and curling winds to watch a horizon vanishing. Wrapped in velvet and gold he knows that we are not our clothes. Where the manifestations of an unborn king in his childhood imagining. What is it that he would deny the halo of rain in a sky, The silhouette of a mountain and its river running by. All gathered wisdom is dumb, so he silences his tongue, loosens his sword form his sheath. His lungs search for new ways to breath. Why does he deny himself sleep and openly weep in the company of two strangers. What makes three kings realise that they are as worthless as a scar? Ask Balthazar

Poems by Year 12 Students at London Academy of Excellence Tottenham

AU

Aadam Hannan

They take our gold Call it colonisation,

They take our pride And change our civilization,

Hardened by our previous ignorance, Burnt into history is our glory,

Mining through brute force, Our ends shine as bright as our gold.

We All Know the Story

Sabita Manipallavarajan

And BANG! Men from afar claiming to bring civilisation, have taken over with brute force. They sweet talk the weak with a gleaming smile, hiding their tyranny Embarking on journeys with their hearts drowned in ignorance.

Forget Golden Silence

Nana Oppong

Break this rock open? My story is golden. Some pay it no mind. To them my history as a joke. Forget golden silence. When I talk I spit diamonds. I’m not about to change even if they think it a crime. ‘We so cool’ and full of greatness. The mirror shows my status. Turn back time? They steal our homes and evangelise disease to my people. Oil wells are meant to be in my backyard but instead it’s full of bones. Now my home’s a shadow of what it could’ve been. Brainwashed by a curse of hypocrisy and tyranny.

Claiming our Gold

Eda Recber

You would have thought they were philanthropic But we were victims of colonisation Their stories of claiming our gold are all hypocrisy They made us believe in civilization just to feed their desire. All achieved by force. Our futures will face the consequences of the oppressors, who didn't even ask. Nothing can be done now.

Gold Vs the World

Kumbeh Sillah

Imperial Colonisation British Civilization Racial Hypocrisy Hateful Adventurer Thieving Pirate Disguised by The Gold Digger The all mighty Asante Colonising White men Gold Battlefields

The Return of Gold

Ayshenaz Yadirgi

Steal our strength, steal our power, steal our gold and call it civilisation Curse our lands prized possession and call it colonisation Take our birthdays, our weddings, and our moments and call it organisation What mother nature had already granted us lit your jealous eyes. Curse our extravagance and wealth. Curse how we worked hard and how we sweated under the sun and its burn. Curse how we sparkle dangerously. Curse how they went against God and stole what belonged to us. We were loyal and humble, his extravagance, why be arrogant in the eyes of God? Gold will always belong to us. It will always be ours and it will always find its way home,

The Asante

Abigail Esalo

The blinding faith and the howls of mothers whose child had been taken away, that ignited a fire under the brave women of the Asante. Glory, Fear, Hate, Faith fought the spread Western disease and Ghana’s colonisation. Or as brits would call it the “introduction of civilization”, that spurred acts of tyranny.

Gift or Greed

Maryam Ahmed

It’s liquid, sweet as honey, yet it’s not transparent to see clearly, not cheap enough to think clearly, not honest enough to answer clearly. Who of those are innocentdepends on what you say is and what it is not. Which businesses are truly a philanthropic enterprise when they have frontiers of ignorance enticing those who may or may not know of their tyranny, enthralled by the golden project. A valuable asset, what could be greater?

The Midas Touch

Asmaa Abby

Who knows if all gold is nothing but a curse? What if all its history contains nothing but hypocrisyYet no one faces the Consequences They keep claiming to just be the Pirate. Oh, they’re just following the leader Apparently no one knows the Owner. Maybe it’s their hungry appetite Maybe it's their Ignorance Maybe it's poisoned with disease- Can you talk about it without Flinching?