In Ghana's Akan tradition, on the eighth day of life a child is named
according to the day of the week on which they were born. This marks
their true birth. In Kweku Abimbola's rhapsodic debut, the intimacy of
this practice yields an intricately layered poetics of time and body
based in Black possibility, ancestry, and joy. While odes and praise
songs celebrate rituals of self- and collective-care--of durags, stank
faces, and dance--Abimbola's elegies imagine alternate lives and
afterlives for those slain by police, returning to naming as a means of
rebirth and reconnection following the lost understanding of time and
space that accompanies Black death.
Saltwater Demands a Psalm creates a cosmology in search of Black
eternity governed by Adinkra symbols--pictographs central to Ghanaian
language and culture in their proverbial meanings--and rooted in units
of time created from the rhythms of Black life.These poems groove,
remix, and recenter African language and spiritual practice to rejoice
in liberation's struggles and triumphs. Abimbola's poetry invokes the
ecstasy and sorrow of saying the names of the departed, of seeing and
being seen, of being called and calling back.