It is often possible, in reading a poet’s work, to get a complete sense of what occupied their mind and what fueled their creative impulses in creating their art. Emmanuel Eruemulor’s collection of poems, “Unwanted,” easily gives out the poet as one who loses sleep over the sociopolitical issues in Nigeria which has created the structure of corrupt and oppressive practices. A system which has made life almost unbearable and has left citizens who can afford to leave, almost no option but to do so.
As a young Nigerian, “Unwanted,” takes you down memory lane about some of the definitive events in Nigeria, which marked the coming of age of my generation. The fact that the immense police brutality in Nigeria, one of the structural methodologies employed in the subjugation of the youth reached a crescendo in 2020 which resulted in #EndSARs seems to be very alive in the mind of the poet. This collection also explores the consequential psychology imposed on young Nigerians by the reality of their country.
Emmanuel Eruemulor easily comes across as a deep thinker; he renders his poetry in intelligent lines that are thought-provoking, and skillfully dissect at the heart of the matter. He is able to conjure poems at whose centre are symbolic images which put the problem at the forefront of the reader. Take for example his poem about the man in Agbada who comes every four years to the people to solicit for their votes and abandon them afterwards. Or his poems about religion, which explore the paradox of faith and the gamble it takes to partake in it. In his poem, “Sunday Service, Tuesday Grave,” he writes a scene which even if specific is symbolic of some of the attacks that have happened in churches during service in Nigeria and the trauma it has had on some, even in the headstrong belief of others, like the grandmother in the poem who insists that God did not leave the building. In “Vincent, Also Cast Out,” he writes about a preacher who takes his job to heart that he blends so well with the locals, making himself a part of them and making them feel less alone in their poverty; this preacher loses his job because he is accused of desecrating [demoting] the robe [status] of priesthood, by getting too close to the people. In “Toll Gate, Lekki,” he writes, “There is a spot on that road now/ where the tarmac remembers/ things the government insists it doesn’t.” In these lines that brilliantly capture the irony and dishonesty as it cuts across the religious and political fabric of the country, Eremulor provokes thoughts, and through his wide gaze he is able to make the reader see more. More than just a poet, he is a critic, and in how he pokes fingers at the tricky spots, he is able to make us see where the problems lie.
In the part of the collection where he writes about exile, it is apparent that though he is writing about his experiences abroad, nostalgia for the world of his roots is at the heart of his writing. His experience of life there comes in contrast with his experiences at home which formed the basis of his worldview. There is a renegotiation in the world of exile and that from his roots. And also here, there is that inescapable rendition of duality. It is evident in the poem about Cold. Here, Emmanuel Eruemulor writes about a different kind of cold, the kind in the stares of strangers, in the voice of landlords who “have found someone else.” [Wole Soyinka’s Telephone Conversation comes to mind.] What hits most about this poem is when he writes that he bought a coat, but he did not buy a coat for this kind of cold he has newly discovered.
In a new land abroad, the poet captures a new reality of being looked upon through the lens of bias, as opposed to being truly seen through what he’s capable of. He presents the occasions of his accent being questioned, not out of genuine curiosity, but as a spectacle [of mockery perhaps]. Of being asked in the office, casually, “You are our diversity hire, right?” And beneath that question, he agonizes about ten years of experience which includes a law degree and a work experience which really defines who he is.
In the third part of the book, Emmanuel Eruemulor takes his discourse about identity to a new height, to the deeply personal aspects about his Ika roots. He grieves the loss of his mother tongue as a result of excessive external influences. Yet he declares pride in his roots in various ways that are characteristic of defiance. He writes about being from Agbor, sandwiched between the East and the Midwest, bearers of larger ethnic groups, to which his is often regarded as a footnote. The poet through his poems reinstates pride in his roots, as it is, not without explanation through the context of a more popular ethnicity. He also writes about an encounter with migrant relatives with a generation or two ahead in the migration race, and that gap became a ladder they climb by stepping on people who remind them of where their own grandparents started. Here, Eruemulor captures a different quagmire in the immigrant experience, now, not from those of different nationalities, but people from the same roots, for who being ahead in the immigration race has become a source of condescension. Truly, this is a work which draws our attention to the fractures in our humanity from the vantage of being a Nigerian, a Nigerian immigrant, from outside and from within.
The merit of Emmanuel Eruemulor’s “Unwanted,” is in how vividly the lived experiences of the poet is in the poems, and how alive they feel. The poet would benefit from close reading of interesting essays and prose to strengthen his diction. And though the collection could benefit from one more round of editing, the power of the poet and potency of his artistry is very well preserved in the work.
Michael Chiedoziem Chukwudera
Michael Chiedoziem Chukwudera is a writer, community builder, and entrepreneur. His works have appeared in Jalada Africa, The Republic, OkayAfrica, Havik, and elsewhere. He is the director of Umuofia Arts and Books Festival, and the author of the novel Loss Is an Aftertaste of Memories (Mmuta Books, 2024).
