OF SISAL, AND THE KNOTS OF HISTORY

Shortly before the end of British rule in Tanganyika, the UK Government invested in a huge ground-nut scheme following the collapse of the sisal-growing market due in part to the introduction of synthetic ropework. The groundnut scheme too, was a disaster. Traces of the huge sisal plantations remain, a memory of a bygone, more unhappy age; seeing them sparked this reflection on how the baggage and detritus of history often leave their fibrous prickles to hinder our forward journeys.


Moving cautiously along the dusty road
That runs among the gentle hills that form
The backdrop to the city; letting go the hours
Of flying through the night, its stiffness and
It’s articifial air: now leaving the sweating
Heaving urban sprawl of modern day
Dar es Salaam, we join the welcome tarmac
Leading West to Morogoro and beyond.

Trucks struggle on the gradually rising road
While taxis duck and weave a wild roulette
With death, where human life is cheap, but
Hopes and dreams are high. Fading the sounds
And smells of city life, soon houses and shacks
Give way to green bananas swaying in the
Freshening air, and they in turn yield to the
Scrub and bush of Africa’s beguiling heart.

And later on the butts of sisal poking through
The yellowed grass. Their flowering heads fly
Flags of colony and empire - now long gone.
Sharp-edged and angry, their cactus tendrils shout
A fibrous warning to the world: grand schemes
Will only rise and fall, and leave a legacy of
Pain and hurt when greed and exploitation
Take the place of people and their aspirations.

And so we find a Tanzanian church still wrestling with
Its past, amidst its beauty, joy and faithful inspiration.
Amidst its gentle grasses too, the butts of history flag
Their false allegiances, dividing in their memories the
Future that they share. The legacy of mission, once
Hope and inspiration, now becomes the sisal project
Of the mind, perpetuating all that chokes and kills,
Yet needs to learn from Africa: and see, and grow.

For Africa is rich, her people
Strong, and God is bigger
Than the sisal-spikes and thistles of
A soon-to-be-forgotten past.

After meeting the Tanzanian House of Bishops,
Morogoro, March 2011.

BEFORE I SNEEZED

The scent of frangipani on the sultry air
Amidst the blue and white of
Yesterday, Tomorrow and Today:
A hint of eucalyptus; the pungent stench of
sullied road-side sewer blessed by
Tempting sausage and samoosa
On the bustling street-edged fire;
Thick clouds of diesel smoke surround the thunder-
Rumbling truck upon its homeward hill;
So brother sun greets sister moon
In the fading light of gentle
Madagascar’s afternoon.
Yes! This cacophony of smells
Invades my lungs and,
Ochre-red in memories,
It captivates my heart.


Antananarivo,
Madagascar,
March 2011.