I was born, bathed, and expired of hope
in this metal wilderness
a sky, red rain, and
an underworld of gods with no glory.
There is no honour for the dead here,
but blood-stained flags and more
bodies to bless the company of ghosts.
I live in a country with no honour
to its name. My tongue
is layered with dead cells, too heavy
to call my land a home.
What do we name this land?
A country or a graveyard?
This poem is an excerpt from Contraband Bodies, published by Narrative Landscape Press (2025).
Contraband Bodies is a meditation debut to be reckoned with. Jide Salawu shines in this personal record of diaspora and a country lost to precarious politics. Mourning home, Salawu deploys gritty language, razor-edge imagery, decolonial poetics, and granular details to highlight the diverse circumstances of being a Black migrant in Africa and beyond.
Salawu meditates on the agony of Atlantic memories and dispersal, confronting new forms of digital kinship. He creates a unique catalogue of images that map the migratory routes from the village to the city, within continental Africa, and across different diasporic landscapes. He builds on a solid canon of migration and mobility in African poetry and brings forward a powerful, new, diasporic poetic voice.
*Photo by Wolfgang Hasselmann on Unsplash
