Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe is an award-winning Gambian author, poet, blogger, novelist, and playwright. His books have been translated into 5 different languages. Modou loves traveling and has been to 15 different countries around the world. Author of Don't Judge The Book By The Cover (2006), The Throne of The Ghost (2016), The Memories of Reflection (2014), TWAWEZA (2019), and AfriKa Not AfriCa (2020).
Monday, October 31, 2016
How Culture and Environment Influence One’s Life ( Academic Paper )
Saturday, October 29, 2016
CRITISM ON THE BAN OF PRACTISING FGM IN THE WORLD ( Academic Paper )
Saturday, October 15, 2016
HIDDEN CHARACTER
Vomiting the hidden secret secretly
Privately becoming my public gatherings
My heart palpitated with an ugly sadness.
My imagination started killing me.
Can this truly be a sign of pregnancy?
My eye bulb came out of the socket; it was
Rotating three hundred sixty degrees like a circle
I felt dizzy, and dizziness harassed my body.
Thinking of the shame I will bring to my family
If this child is born,
I embarked on a crying project.
Pregnancy is like a character.
But attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference.
Why didn't I wear my mother's clothes?
This animal on my body disappointed me.
Pleasure betrayed my emotions.
Blindly, I was led to motherhood.
My education is retarded.
Fingers pointing to me, and
My name is the talk of the day.
Tears got frozen in my eyes.
I cried blood.
Blood cried for me, and I cried nothing but tears.
My sweat evaporated into the thin air.
I cross-carpeted the junction of confusion.
'N landed on the bed of regret.
I disagree and agree with my senses about committing abortion.
But what about the life Hereafter?
A concrete concave order covered my conscience.
My best friends turned out to be my worst enemies.
My best clothes turn out to be nothing.
If I had known that destiny would make me like this,
I was going to bargain for a flight to hell.
Before I could catch my breath.
I heard the drumming of my eardrums.
Whispering words of mockery into my semi-circular canal
I roared like a lion.
'N fetched a knife to rest at last from pain.
But the knife became my best friend, knowing that
I don’t intend to kill myself.
Like the melted limbs of a cow, the news spread...
I got married at my house.
The hidden character expanded in size.
'N clarified the uncertain rumors' heard by the people
I peered through my window.
I saw the roughness of the sky.
I am ready to endure the pain of birth.
Thunder and lightning of hate hunted my privacy.
I have nothing to hunt for but to accept it all in good faith.
My eyes advised me to visit my bed for relaxation.
I consented and climbed through the stairs of my bed.
I was greeted by my pillow.
Who activated me to silence?
I forgot what I dreamed, and I slept gracefully.
Friday, October 14, 2016
Relationships and Marriages of Nowadays
As my cadaverous body dissuades me
To manoeuvre to my wench who made me love-sick
My feelings became recalcitrant and love-lorn,
My gaiety gagged me with penury
Jettison by the so-called comrade of my flatulent incomprehensible lass
These psychopathic 'n cabalistic sirrahs
They've made nemesis to catch up with my iambic parentheses
A relationship of regret alarmed in my heart without a rescue,
My pluviosity of effleurage
A friendly pretentious ally she is to my lass,
Smelling the whiff of money
Her looks can only be liken to that of an innocent upright palm tree,
If the glasses of your legs have been broken,
I understand you come from that kind of home,
Where those who live in glass houses throw stones,
Do away from her 'n be not an obstacle to my relationship 'n way to marriage,
You can’t untie a rope you've no knowledge of,
You’ve shown me a clear pair of teeth 'n act not in your deeds
You need an expensive boyfriend with glittering papers,
A man who drives a car 'n not ride a bicycle,
Gambian men without a car nowadays never have a honey,
Not even a honey-bunny,
Marriages of nowadays are broken by the in-laws of the man,
In whose aspiration not seeing what she has expected
Not knowing she will add to the number of unmarried women,
Leaving the ratio of marriage to 1 man is to 30 women,
Women are more than men in our generation,
People of nowadays never married for the sake of God,
We’ve shunned the old practices 'n shattered them into flights,
We dug ourselves graves,
With the existence of religious leaders
May God guide us on the right path.
Saturday, October 8, 2016
I Wish I Can Tell Her ( A Poem)
I held ma belt in my heart,
Grieving for an affection's meditation
This feeling got me arrested in her love station;
Rhyming my imagination;
You merit the tune of ma every heartbeat
Including the sweet-joy, I ran within a defeat
Your adoration strikes in me more than a giga-byte
I keep riding in your dreams like a bike.
I mean what you meant
Better call me a Gambian undiscovered Celt
The feelings you feeding me got me to melt
I don't mean anybody
Literature just got writing what I felt
I walked up to her and knee when I knelt
In writing, I am not a scary picture
Ugly like God made me in ma nature
Calibrating ma caliber
My quietness does not mean I can't speak in public
Gambia's hidden God-ordained proletariat.
Choice or Option
He that gave me milk from wisdom
Snow me to dust when it shines
Smile not I presume my desire
Joy is but a bell
Rung in distress for wealth is but rain
The season is time, and the reason is love
Love me not for wealth
Magistrates of doom and decadence,
My choice is not your option.
Choose me or marry to your him
If love was a human, I shall die a slave
Imprison in your heart and lock with betrayal.
Early Marriage
Money and love,
Choice and option,
Force and conviction;
Encouragement and persuasion,
Father!
Why didn’t you allow me to complete my secondary education?
Why were you carried away by money?
Can money buy Love?
My success is now retarded,
My time wasted, and my age escalated.
Father!
Don’t you have any conscience?
Look at me, it's me, your only daughter
Why should I abandon a slave for a king?
That boy is the land-lord of my heart
And the king of my kingdom.
Father!
Did you forget the bag of rice he bought for you?
Why not you belch his food?
Now that you have emptied his pockets
Stranded his dignity and wealth
Who next to curse?
You can’t separate two corpses in the same grave
He alone I do love.
Father!
Why not you try to reason as usual?
Marriage has many pains
And I am too young to dance with many sorrows
What a suffering and pain
Do I have to undergo all in the nest of an early marriage?
The Message ( A Poem )
Am born an Arab-African-Gambian
But a global citizen by nationality
Chinua Achebe died during my birth
How can the Gambia shine above Senegal?
Ask the Touba mosque why.
We are surrounded on three sides by water
As Serign Bamba Touba
All great men are born great with misfortunes
Mine is the worst because am born a fool
Yes!
Shakespeare used a sword
But ask him who owns the throne
He is Isa and not Jesus
He is not a son of God
Don’t put him in Hell
Let the message be clear
There is only One God;
Zakir Naik preaches justice
But ask him which tongue is just
Islam is a true religion
Embrace it with joy
Lucifer is Satan
Baphomet and lluminatti
But he knows who I am
African integration is rest in the nest of a man
Ignorant and underestimated
But born with wisdom
It takes an extraordinary challenge for an ordinary man to be extraordinary
The trials of the ‘’Dajjaal’’ will soon come to you
Remember the secret; Suratul Khaf is always your refuge
Prophet Muhammad (S.A.W) was the last prophet
Let not Ghulam Ahmad deceive the Ahmadiyyas
Tell all idol worshippers that there is only one God-- Allah.
Tell Egyptians that their pyramid is not a place for idol worshipping
Let my message be heard
Tell Jehovah to convert before he dies
Tell the Diva that God is alone on His Throne
Let the King of Pop tell you what he is currently undergoing
Tell all greedy presidents on earth that power rules power
Tell all your great writers' to write a book like the Holy Qur'an
Tell your so-called scientists to discover a cure for death
With all the resources and the talent;
Why should Africa be underdeveloping?
Let my message be clear
I am nothing but only a poor slave of Allah.
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You Never Loved Me - Poem by Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe
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Gambian author, Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe cooked in Abuja, Nigeria, during the 2020 PenPen Africa Writers Residency organized by the Afri...
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