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Mountains and Valleys
Mountains and Valleys
Mountains and Valleys
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Mountains and Valleys

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Tuams artistic talent in Mountains and Valleys confirms that poets are great curers of societies and peacemakers still. His texts convince us that we can work together to build a just and peaceful world. The collection is the authors call for justice, love, freedom, peace and respect to life.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherAuthorHouse
Release dateJun 25, 2012
ISBN9781477216903
Mountains and Valleys
Author

Leon Tuam

Leon Tuam was born in a country that he loves to call one of the African provinces, Cameroon. He has livee in exile since 1993.

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    Book preview

    Mountains and Valleys - Leon Tuam

    Mountains

    and

    Valleys

    Leon Tuam

    US%26UKLogoB%26Wnew.ai

    AuthorHouse™

    1663 Liberty Drive

    Bloomington, IN 47403

    www.authorhouse.com

    Phone: 1-800-839-8640

    © 2012 by Leon Tuam. All rights reserved.

    No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

    Published by AuthorHouse 06/19/2012

    ISBN: 978-1-4772-1691-0 (sc)

    ISBN: 978-1-4772-1690-3 (e)

    Library of Congress Control Number: 2012910341

    Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

    Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

    Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

    Contents

    PREFACE

    Free like the bird

    Invisible wings of eternity

    A Man under the fruit trees

    Too many love letters

    History laughs at you

    Writers

    Two birds of prey

    I slam on the brakes

    Listen to this wind

    We expect the worst for the world

    Behind any child

    Strange river

    If I were asked

    Beauty

    If that’s your choice

    Harvesters

    We all live in exile now

    Because of that

    Knowing all this

    Cry for the lost flower

    My life is a casino

    A house next to the water

    We walk in the opposite direction

    They say

    A dangerous spot

    Children’s teeth

    Become and remain a new soul

    Hands which are apparently clean

    I thought that I knew you

    She does not live alone

    Happiness

    Our world

    They do what they do

    From Boston

    America

    You smile at them

    A young believer and the preacher

    Families today

    In what you do

    When I hold my weapon

    Nothing is useless

    I saw the clouds

    Antelope

    Art

    People, beware of being the impostors’ prey

    When you talk about your story

    My ewe

    The armed rain

    They follow

    Mountains and valleys

    When you are up there

    O day, o night

    What is it?

    You see that timber

    The child’s cry changed me

    Dictators

    Sleepy sea

    In our societies

    The brewer

    You are the wild partridge

    I don’t want too much

    Our catches are but empty nuts

    The trees of hatred

    Talks with the body

    Yesterday in our societies

    Victims without guilty parties

    Glee, bliss, wisdom

    Cameroon, o kidnapped gorgeous girl

    About the power

    Sorrow came

    My country, you are a river

    A rat sadly rings the bell

    Look at the landscape

    Women are like guavas

    We were in the same boat

    Modern governments and gangs

    A constant major worry

    This is a hand

    Question, answer

    Bittersweet dish

    Work of the author

    Always I remember

    We were two, we were two only,

    Hasten, hasten to heal

    Fighting for food

    Back from hunting

    Little things

    We met and talked and laughed

    He said

    You say enough is enough

    The tree in the lady’s property

    You trumpet that you are free

    That young man

    We live with a big lie

    Children and education

    We choose to grow like pumpkins

    The cock and the leech

    I was an earthworm

    Tools of completion

    Today as yesterday

    The happiness’ seeker

    As we, Africans, look at our wealth

    Disasters’ punches

    When we talk of heaven

    DEDICACE

    For Tagnie Tapchie’s family, Ntiéki.

    PREFACE

    I was Leon Tuam’s teacher in the early 1980s. I knew him as an intelligent, alert and promising boy. Then like Jesus for forty days in the desert, he disappeared for nearly thirty years, up to very recently when he surfaced and we met again. He was definitely no longer the same. Indeed People do change as they grow up and mature.

    As he left his peaceful African rural environment for more knowledge and discoveries in cities and universities, he got caught in the whirlwind of injustice, discrimination, imperialism, persecution and silence. Naive as he was, he could not keep silent. How could he, being what he was? He was restless. He had to talk. He had to fight. He did fight. He fought with a few friends for a new order in his native land and the whole Africa. But like Prometheus, that was challenging Zeus, he had to pay for it. He had to be tortured. And he was tortured in all aspects of the concept.

    He had to go underground to escape physical torture. He wandered days and nights, months and years. He wandered from country to country, from continent to continent, from season to season, from culture to culture, from race to race. Yet he came across other forms of tortures, more subtle and more insidious. He felt lonely and abandoned. He got scared. He suffered from insomnia. He felt nostalgia for home, countryside, friends, brothers and sisters. He got lost. He wished he could go back, and escape loneliness and anguish. He looked back and it was all despair; he saw hatred, violence, betrayal, lying, cheating, and exploitation of man by man, nation by nation, race by race, south by north. And he was lost again. Then he calmed down and began to think. Still he got lost. But people and nations too are lost as he points out in this collection; he is stunned by perversion and stubbornness of mankind:

    At the point we are today,

    If wisdom were hanging on small trees

    Smaller than the tomatoes plants,

    The world would completely

    Turn into a sea of fools and sharks,

    The world would simply

    Plunge into the darkest of days.

    He needed and ideal world for his wounds to heal, to make up for lost time and to set up a new world, more human and non violent. He had to create it. In this collection of scramble verses, Leon Tuam sets up to force his dream world into existence. As the fight for Cameroon’s liberation they undertook in the years 90s remains fruitless, he comes out with a new Cameroon already liberated in the poem entitled, Cameroon, o kidnapped gorgeous girl.

    The language as used in this collection reflects his devastated experience. First, it’s an unusual association of concepts that generally don’t go together, of words that might connote different or ambiguous understanding and of a words order that at times deviates from the norms; second, he honestly pours down everything boiling in his mind, leaving fresh air to cool it down and the reader to rearrange it. It flows almost non stop. This is called ‘the stream of consciousness technique’. The best approach is to read from the writer’s state of mind to be able to relate it to the surrounding and visible environment.

    At the background of Tuam’s mind and underlying the whole collection, is a fundamental conception of the world as fallen. But this should not be confused with the fall of Adam and Eve from the grace and paradise. His

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