Saddiq Dzukogi: How I Wrote ‘The Old Ones’

Photo credit: Mitch West/Lied Center | Interview by Zoë Brigley

[This] poem represents the beginning of a willingness to engage in this new awe of the self through the prism of ancestry. It is an act of seeking permission to pursue this new wonder.

The Old Ones

Here in the open compound of myth
where stories grow like fire off the skin 
of woods into a forest of ears,
where water from sea comes to taste 
the sand of a shoreline, where fishermen 
cast their nets to catch sea snails 
leaving out fishes. Here, where 
washing hands in water knots one’s blood 
to the ocean spirit. Children have no kites 
to chase after but, here, two lovers 
squat to harvest tidings. They surrender 
paper boats to the current, cargo-ed 
with their lovers’ vows. The old ones 
say, to take, you must give. By a broken branch, 
still half-attached to its mother tree,
there is a pelican forcing the sea
into its eyes. I dance and stamp my feet 
where water said farewell to land.
Above my head, in its magnificence, 
the sky stretches. In a lousy Grundig Radio, 
Fela, long dead, comes back to life. 
I listen until he goes back to being dead.
On a palm frond my life becomes small. 
I remember my first kiss, nostalgia
washes over me like waves. How 
small joys seem sufficient. How 
my body still tingles at a grandeur moment 
squirming from the past. I bear my eyes 
to the moon waning behind clouds, 
thinking how small I am, a speck, in the midst 
of all things singing, this unending singing.

‘The Old Ones’ is a tremendous poem. Where did the inspiration come from?

Thank you so much Zoë, this poem came from feelings of nostalgia and longing for a familiar place. It emerged from memories of the sights, sounds, and smells of home, as well as the people and places I grew up in. Recently, since coming to America, my relationship with home has taken on a spiritual aspect. I find myself in a constant ritual of smelling flowers and grass as I walk through gardens, streets, and parks, trying to see if they smell like the ones from my childhood. I touch the ground and place my ears to the roars of this new life in this unfamiliar country. These seemingly meaningless gestures often serve as a source of answers for me, about myself, my people, and my world. I have been thinking more and more about my place in the world, particularly in relation to land, ancestry, and the music that ties me to these obsessions. The poem represents the beginning of a willingness to engage in this new awe of the self through the prism of ancestry. It is an act of seeking permission to pursue this new wonder.

The images in the poem are very striking. How do you come up with original writing?

You are very generous. There is no one else with exactly my insights, and experiences. No one else has lived my life but myself. This is not narcissism, I promise. This is true of anyone else. We all have unique experiences and perspectives on things. Ultimately, I see my life and my experiences as an archeological site prime for excavation. This is the kind of discovery I rely on to write poetry. It’s an abundant reservoir of artefacts. Also, as I said earlier, leaving home has given me the blessing of new perspective on the things I once took for granted. The mundane aspects of my Nigerian life, once overlooked, have suddenly become a spectacular wonder that I can only see through the lens of homesickness and longing, and belonging. This has sparked a curiosity for poetic exploration that feels novel and exciting.

There seems to be a whole philosophy threaded through this poem: ‘The old ones / say, to take, you must give.’ Could you tell us more about that?

I once told a close friend that I wasn’t ready to accept kindness unless I could also give it to others. I believe in balance and reciprocity, where I won’t take without also giving back. This philosophy is not just limited to human interactions, but also extends to our relationship with the natural world. Indigenous cultures often hold this belief of respecting and living in harmony with nature. My hope is to remind others that everything in life is interconnected, and that our actions have an impact on the world and those around us. To create a thriving community and world, we must strive for humility and selflessness, and remember that everything we have is inherited from those who came before us and should be passed down to future generations.